Radclyffe - Crossroads

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it all up.”

“You didn’t, I did.”

“Well, none of that was your doing.”

“I just wished I’d known.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. You still would have made the same choices.”

“Yes, I would. But maybe I would have been a little more sensitive.”

“The past can’t be changed,” Annie said abruptly. “No matter how much we wish we could do it over.”

Hollis felt the doors close and the walls go up between them. The warmth in the room fell away. She was aware of being tired for the first time all day. Annie was not going to so easily forgive her, and that saddened her. “All right. We should talk about the clinic.”

“Let’s reschedule,” Annie said. “You’ve been up all night and I need to pick Callie up from school in another hour or so. Tuesday?”

“I have office hours in the morning. One o’clock?”

“That sounds—”

Hollis’s cell rang and she fished it out of her pocket. “I better get that.”

“Of course.”

“Monroe.”

“Hi, Hollis, it’s Patty. Mary Anderson is running a temp of a hundred and four and her blood pressure’s a little on the low side. I’m kind of worried about her.”

“Is she bleeding?”

“Not much more than I would expect.”

“Go ahead and culture her up. Better let the neonatologist know to check the baby for signs of trans-uterine infection. Move Mary into an isolation room. I’ll be in to take a look.”

“Jerry Moorehouse is on call. I can have him—”

“No, don’t bother him. I’ll be right over.”

“Thanks Hollis, I’m sorry—”

“No problem. I’ll be right there.” She ended the call and pushed the phone into her pocket. “I’m sorry. I have to go. My patient from this morning is febrile.”

“Of course.” Annie followed Hollis through the house and out the front door. Hollis’s intense expression was distant. She was focused on her patient and barely aware of anything else. “Thanks again for lunch.”

Hollis frowned. “Sorry, I—”

“Go, Hollis, go. It’s fine.”

Hollis took off at a jog. Annie followed more slowly and carefully closed the gate, making sure the latch caught. She had to go back to the hospital too, to get her car, but Hollis was gone by the time she crossed the street into the park. What a strange day she’d had. She’d started out caught up in the fear and uncertainty of that long-ago day when everything in her life exploded. She was still angry, still hurt, at having been forced to start anew, alone. First she’d lashed out at Hollis and then had somehow ended up telling her things she hadn’t even told her friends. Hollis was the last person she would ever have dreamed of confiding in, but she had. And she had no idea why.

Chapter Seven

“Cal? Are you ready?” Annie rinsed the cereal bowl and stacked it with her coffee cup and plate in the sink to wash later. Yesterday she’d done the same thing with Hollis—something she hadn’t done with anyone since she’d left home. Such a simple activity. Clearing away the remains of a meal. Working together, talking easily, sharing a few moments of daily life.

She’d never had times like those with anyone except her family, and then the activities had been regimented, planned, and ordered. Chores—cleaning, milking, harvesting, cooking, mending, and all the other “girl work” assigned to her—were something to be gotten out of the way because there was always more work to do. She’d wanted to ride the tractor with her brothers when she was eight, but she’d been told that was for the boys. She had other work to do with her sisters and her mother. She’d wanted to be outside, working in the hot sun, surrounded by the smell of animals and growing things and life. Instead, she’d spent much of her time inside, venturing out as far as the back porch to hang up the wash or to the kitchen garden to fill a basket with tomatoes and cucumbers and corn for dinner. She’d only escaped living the same life that her mother and her younger sisters led because she had excelled in school. The community valued one of their own learning a necessary skill and had expected her to come home to practice it.

Everything had changed when she’d come to the city and discovered what other women had known for decades—that she wasn’t limited to women’s work. The world expanded before her very eyes, filled with endless possibility and excitement. She’d been exhilarated and terrified at the same time, a little lost but still determined to see and do everything. Jeff had become her guide, her teacher both literally and figuratively, and she’d never questioned that he might not be what he claimed to be, or what she wanted. Who she wanted. He’d offered her an anchor in a rapidly changing universe, and she’d grasped it only to be cut free when she’d needed him most. Her poor judgment.

“Mommy,” Callie said from behind her, “I can’t find my sneakers.”

Annie put a smile on, quickly dried her hands, and bent down until she was eye to eye with her daughter. “Hmm. I don’t think you can go out without your sneakers. That’s a long way to walk barefoot.”

Callie giggled. “I can’t walk anywhere except the backyard with no shoes on. The streets are dirty.”

“Well, some of them are. What do you think we should do?”

“Find my sneakers.”

“Good idea. When was the last time you remember having them?”

Callie frowned in concentration, the small crease between her reddish gold brows transforming her perfectly angelic face into a fleeting glimpse of what she would look like as she grew older—a gorgeous teenager and a beautiful woman. Annie resisted the urge to scoop her up and squeeze. She couldn’t stop time any more than she could turn it back.

“I wore them to school,” Callie said with a note of pride.

“You did. I remember that. And what did you do when you got home from school?”

“I sat on the sofa and I watched television and I took off my sneakers.”

“Then I think that’s where we should start our search.”

Five minutes later, Callie was dressed in one of her favorite T-shirts, faded Oshkosh overalls, and her missing sneakers. “I’m ready.”

“All right then. Let’s take a walk.”

The park, Annie had quickly learned, was a meeting ground for the neighborhood, and on Saturday mornings parents gathered there to read the newspapers and drink coffee while the kids played under the safe watch of many communal eyes. Callie already knew most of the children her age from school, and Annie was slowly getting to know everyone by sight. She looked forward to it as a chance to unwind while doing something with Callie. They stopped at a corner grocer at the midpoint of their four-block walk to the park, and Annie purchased a takeout cup of coffee, a newspaper, and a juice for Callie. She hesitated, studying the pastries in a glass cabinet on the counter next to the register. “Are those cranberry scones?”

“They certainly are,” the middle-aged proprietor said, her eyes lighting up. “I get them delivered from Principato’s bakery, two streets over, fresh every day. You won’t find better in the whole city.”

“I’ll take one—and one of those powdered sugar doughnuts.”

“Is that one for me?” Callie asked.

“I don’t know. Do you want one?”

Callie laughed. “Sugar are my favorite.”

“Then I guess that one will be for you.” Smiling, Annie paid the owner, tucked her newspaper under her arm, and handed Callie the bag to carry while she opened the lid of her coffee. Memorial Day weekend had dawned bright and sunny, and the weather report promised temperatures in the low eighties for the next three days with no rain in sight. Perfect weather and she was off call. What could be better. She couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted, and yet a trickle of unease shimmered between her shoulder blades, as if she’d forgotten something very important.