Radclyffe - Crossroads

Shrugging off the irksome sensation, she found an unoccupied wooden bench in the center of the park halfway around the tiny pond—no bigger than a backyard swimming pool, but big enough for the kids to throw bread to the ducks and launch a boat or two. She opened the newspaper and scanned the headlines, one eye on Callie as she ran to join several children on a nearby swing set. She drank her coffee, read, and people-watched while Callie played. Usually these lazy hours were the most relaxing of her week, but today she couldn’t settle. Her body hummed with restless energy and her mind kept jumping back to the disrupted meeting with Hollis and the unexpected lunch that followed. When Callie climbed up next to her on the bench, Annie welcomed the diversion from her own aimless thoughts. She offered Callie half the doughnut. “You ready for this?”

“Yes, please.”

Callie leaned against her and Annie slid an arm around her slim shoulders. She folded the paper and set it aside and went back to people-gazing. Her gaze settled on one person and the others faded away. Hollis Monroe occupied a bench across the pond, her arms spread out along the back of the bench, her head thrown back and canted at a distinctly uncomfortable-looking angle. She had to be asleep because no one would voluntarily assume that position. She was wearing scrubs and must have just come from the hospital. On impulse, Annie stood and held out her hand. “Come on, Cal, let’s walk a little bit.”

“Okay.” Callie jumped down beside her and took her hand, the remnant of the doughnut in her other one.

Annie led the way along the rough stone path that circled the pond until she reached the bench where Hollis slept. She was pale, dark smudges beneath her eyes and fatigue creasing her cheeks. Now that she was there, Annie wasn’t certain why she’d come or what she ought to do. She should leave Hollis to whatever rest she might be able to get, but Hollis looked so tired and uncomfortable, Annie just couldn’t walk away. She gently shook Hollis’s shoulder. “Hey. Hollis?”

Hollis jerked and opened her eyes, peering blearily in Annie’s direction.

“Hey,” Hollis whispered, her voice rusty. She looked around, her confused expression rapidly clearing. She snapped to attention and sat upright. “Annie, hey.” She rubbed her face. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Annie said, laughing softly. “How’s your neck?”

Hollis winced and rubbed her neck. “Broken, I think. Thanks for waking me up before I was permanently damaged.”

“I hated to do it, but I was a little worried about you.”

Annie’s words sent an unexpected surge of pleasure through Hollis’s chest. She spent her life caring for others and rarely needed and never sought the comfort of others. Her work kept her busy enough to banish the occasional ache of loneliness, but it was nice that Annie was worried about her. She smiled at the gorgeous child by Annie’s side, the green eyes that matched her mother’s large and curious behind the lenses of her glasses. “Hi. I’m Hollis.”

“I’m Callie,” the child announced. “You have scrubs like my mommy’s. Are you a midwife like her?”

Hollis laughed, the mantle of fatigue falling from her shoulders. She caught Annie’s expression of horror and grinned even more. “Well, sort of. I do take care of women who are going to have babies, like your mom.”

“Did you have baby call last night?”

“I did.” Hollis glanced at Annie.

“Sorry,” Annie muttered.

“No problem.” Hollis gestured to the bench beside her. “You want to sit?”

“What do you think, Cal? You want to play some more?”

“Can I go back to the swings?”

“I don’t think so, honey, it’s too far and I won’t be able to see you over there.”

Callie looked around and her face lit up. “There’s Mike. Can I play with Mike?”

“Yes, as long as you stay with Mike and his mother. All right?”

“All right.” Callie dashed away and Annie watched her go until she reached Mike and Robin. Robin looked in her direction and waved. Annie waved back, calling, “Thank you.”

“She’s adorable,” Hollis said.

Annie sat and stretched her legs into a patch of sunlight. The heat on her legs trailed up, settling in her middle, and the restless feeling slipped away. “I’m prejudiced, of course, but she is.”

“She looks like you.”

Annie laughed. “You know the way to a mother’s heart.”

“I’m being serious.”

“She’s the best thing in my life.”

Hollis nodded. “I can certainly understand that.”

“She was so small when she was—well, you know that, don’t you.”

“I remember. A little over four pounds.”

“God,” Annie said, “you really do have an amazing memory.” Her gaze found Callie, followed her as she ran with Mike.

Annie’s pensive expression bordered on sadness and Hollis wondered what memory she’d triggered. “What is it?”

“The first time I saw her, she was in an incubator in the NICU. She had a funny little hat to help keep her warm, a pulse ox taped to her tiny chest, and an IV in her leg. I had to ask one of the nurses if I could hold her.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance to see her right after she was born,” Hollis said. “It took her just a second to take her first breath. As soon as I suctioned her, she opened her eyes and took a great big breath. She was beautiful then too.”

Annie turned from Callie to meet Hollis’s gaze. “I’m glad you remember.” She looked away again. “She had some neonatal jaundice and her lungs were a little immature. They think the prolonged oxygen may have contributed to her visual problems. A small price to pay.”

Hollis’s stomach tightened but she kept her voice even. Preemies often had side effects from the delivery or the supportive therapy. Not her fault, but she felt the responsibility weigh heavily on her all the same. “She’s okay with the glasses, though?”

“Yes, she’s nearsighted, but the eye docs don’t think there’ll be any long-term problems other than that.”

“I’m glad.”

“She never complains. Nothing stops her, and that’s all that matters.” Annie straightened. “Did you work all night?”

Hollis was coming to recognize the tough set to Annie’s shoulders as a sign Annie was putting aside whatever bothered her. Her admiration for Annie grew—she hadn’t folded when many faced with even lesser obstacles would have. She didn’t imagine Annie needed her to say so, but she wanted to. Instead she said, “I was up most of the night. One of my mothers developed a postpartum infection. Rare, but we still see it. The baby’s fine.”

“And mom?”

“Much better this morning. I didn’t want to leave until the infectious disease people had seen her and we’d gotten her squared away on an antibiotic regimen.”

“That’s going the extra mile.”

Hollis shrugged. “Something like that, you can’t take it lightly.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Too much coffee to contemplate.” Hollis rubbed her stomach, the acid burn reminding her she hadn’t slept in almost two days.

“Can I tempt you with a cranberry scone?”

“You could tempt me with the paper bag at this point.”

Laughing, Annie extracted the scone along with a napkin and handed it to Hollis. “Here. You need this more than I do.”

“Thanks, want to share?”

Annie’s lips parted, her quick smile soft and sensuous. “Just a little piece.”

Hollis paused, the scone cradled in her palm. Annie’s eyes had a faint ring of golden brown around the deep green irises. Sunlight flickered through the trees behind her head and her golden hair glowed. The sounds of children’s laughter filtered into her awareness, and she was carried back to a time when the world was fresh and new and filled with possibility. She ached with the memory of long-ago innocence. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”