Radclyffe - Turn Back Time

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Did you have a good walk?" Mina asked when Wynter joined her in the living room. She'd changed into a loose denim jumper and tie-dyed T-shirt but still wore her fuzzy pink slippers and was ensconced in a rocker surrounded by the Sunday papers.

"It was nice," Wynter said, leaving the door to the adjoining family room open so she could keep an eye on the children, all of whom were sprawled on the rug with their toys and games. "Do you want your ice cream?"

"In a little while." Mina nodded toward the overstuffed chair next to her. "Sit down and enjoy the fire."

Wynter settled back with a sigh and propped her feet on a footstool.

"Is Ken home?"

"Taking a nap. He said he was up all night."

Wynter made a sympathetic sound. "I'm not so sure it's a good thing I have two days off in a row. It makes me realize how abnormal my life is."

"Looked pretty normal this morning," Mina said. "Family breakfast, friendly company, nice quiet walk."

Wynter smiled, thinking just how right that had felt. Spending time with Ronnie. Being with Pearce. Pearce. She had no idea how Pearce had become part of her life outside of the hospital, but she was glad. The last month had brought so many changes, sometimes she felt as if she couldn't keep up. "I just wish there were more mornings like this."

"It won't be forever. You're more than halfway done."

"I know," Wynter said, staring at the ceiling. "It was just so nice to take Ronnie out and spend an hour just having fun."

"You were gone for a while. I was starting to worry."

"Sorry. Pearce took us by her garage where she restores old cars.

Ronnie loved the place."

"If it had anything to do with cars, she would."

Wynter laughed. "I think I'm raising an auto mechanic."

"Well, maybe it's hereditary. That's a lot like surgery."

"If I had the energy, I'd throw a pillow at you."

Mina reached for the cup of tea resting on the reading table beside her. "Pearce was good with her."

"She was great."

"So you all had fun."

"Yes." Wynter felt a ripple of apprehension for which she had no explanation. Almost every minute they'd spent together had been effortless and enjoyable. They'd conversed easily about Pearce's cars and Wynter's family. She'd told Pearce about growing up on a farm, and how shocked her parents had been when she'd said she wanted to be a doctor. Neither was a college graduate, and in their small community, many of the young people still married and settled down within walking distance of their parents. Even the ones who went away to college frequently returned, preferring the quieter life they had grown up with.

Ronnie seemed taken with Pearce. Although Ronnie rarely stopped babbling, she and Pearce seemed able to communicate even without words. Everything had been perfect, and yet the closer they had drawn to Pearce's apartment on the return trip, the less they'd talked and the more heavy the silence had become.

They'd climbed the front porch and stood facing one another, Ronnie between them, one of her small mittened hands on each of their thighs. Their breath hung like mist, an uninvited guest. Wynter had the urge to brush it away, as if it prevented her from seeing Pearce clearly.

"Let me check your hand," she said.

Pearce glanced up at the porch ceiling, as if she could see through the structure. "I'd ask you up, but..."

"No problem." Wynter tried to sound nonchalant, but she knew her words had come out harshly. She smiled to take the sting away. "Let me see your hand. Please."

Without another word, Pearce pulled her ungloved hand from her jacket pocket and held it out, fingers splayed. She slowly made a fist and opened it again. Wynter pulled off her own gloves and stuffed them into her pockets. She kept Ronnie trapped between her knees so she could use both hands to examine Pearce's. She repeated the procedure from the day before, gently probing, flexing and extending each finger, and studying the scrapes and bruises. Finally she was satisfied. "It's still very swollen, but better."

"It'll be okay." Pearce withdrew her hand from Wynter's grip.

"You should get going. It's freezing out here. Have a good one--I'll see you tomorrow."

As Pearce turned toward her front door, keys in hand, Wynter blurted, "What about you? What are you going to do today?"

Pearce gave her an inscrutable look over her shoulder. "I'm going in to make rounds, see what's going on. If I'm lucky, a good case will come in." Pearce glanced down at Ronnie and smiled. "Bye, kiddo."

Ronnie waved her new car and giggled. "Bye, kiddo."

Replaying the scene in her head, Wynter continued to stare at the ceiling. She still couldn't figure out what bothered her. She knew that someone waited for Pearce upstairs, but that didn't have anything to do with her.

"You look kind of lost, honey," Mina said. "Something wrong?"

"No, not really." Wynter frowned. "I guess I just don't know what to do with myself. Too much time on my hands. If you don't mind watching Ronnie, I'll go next door and do some unpacking."

"Want some company? I'll be over as soon as Ken wakes up. He can watch the kids."

"Sure," Wynter said, wondering what Pearce was doing and wondering why she couldn't get her out of her mind. "Company would be great."

v "Where did you go?" Tammy asked petulantly the minute Pearce walked into her apartment.

"Just for a walk. How are you doing?"

Tammy sat up, the blanket falling to her waist. She was nude. "I'm still a little wasted. What time is it?"

"Just after eleven. Are you working today?"

"I'm the night float. I don't have to be in until eight."

Pearce hung her jacket over the back of her desk chair. "You want something to eat?"

"Are you on the menu?"

"Not at the moment." Pearce went into the kitchen to investigate the food situation. Knowing what Tammy was like under these circumstances, eggs would probably do. She opened the cabinet above the sink and was in the process of taking down a bowl when Tammy's arms came around her from behind. Carefully, she set the dish on the counter, ignoring the play of Tammy's fingers over her abdomen.

Without turning around, she said, "Why don't you take a shower? I'll leave some of my sweats for you in the bathroom and by the time you're done, I'll have breakfast ready."

Tammy adroitly opened the button on Pearce's fly with one hand and pulled her shirt loose with the other. "You know I'd rather fuck first and eat later."

Pearce caught both wrists and stopped Tammy's errant explorations. "Cut it out, Tam. You need something to eat, and I'm not in the mood."

Tammy stepped back as Pearce turned around. She stared, mouth agape. "You're not kidding, are you?"

Pearce shook her head.

"Since when aren't you interested in sex?"

"Since right now." Pearce leaned against the counter, wincing when she tried to curl the fingers of her left hand around the edge of the counter.

"What the hell did you do?" Tammy reached for Pearce's hand.

"Jesus. You really did a number on this."

"I jammed it up yesterday."

"How?"

"Just helping someone move." The last thing Pearce wanted to do was discuss Wynter with anyone, but definitely not anyone from the hospital. And not one of the women she used to sleep with. She wasn't exactly sure why, because Wynter was just a friend. A fellow resident.

That's all. But she just didn't want to talk about her.

"Helping someone move." Tammy enunciated each word as if it were a foreign language. "Let me see if I get this right. Pearce Rifkin, the senior surgery resident who never does anything except work and screw, spent her day off helping someone move."

"Come on," Pearce said, grinning despite herself. "I do more than that. I read a book sometimes. I've even been known to watch a movie."