Fated Love (20 page)

Quinn had a feeling that Honor and Terry were very much alike, but she kept her own counsel.

"One day..." Honor's throat suddenly tightened, and she struggled for the words. "Ah God, I'm sorry."

"Honor," Quinn said quietly.

"I'm okay. Really."

It was killing Quinn to hear the pain in her voice and to be helpless to assuage it. "My house is right up the street, What do you say we go sit on the porch for a few minutes?"

"Yes. Okay." Honor gave Pooch's lead a tug and fell into step beside Quinn. A moment later, she followed Quinn down the narrow alley between Quinn's building and the neighboring one to the rear of the house.

"You'd better take my hand," Quinn said when they reached the stairs that led up to the deck off her kitchen. "It's dark back here. Will Pooch be okay?"

"He'll be fine. He'd climb trees if I'd let him." Honor slid her hand into Quinn's as they made their way up to the second-floor landing.

Once there, she released Quinn's hand and sat shoulder to shoulder with her on the top step, while Pooch stretched out behind them, pressing close. It was fully dark now, and the sky overhead was clear. The moon was out, the stars were bright, and the night was as gorgeous as any summer night could be.

Honor took a breath and tried to see past the memories of that morning when they had brought Terry into the emergency room. "She was in the basement of the house her crew was rehabbing, inspecting the joists. Something happened, no one knows what for sure, but a supporting beam came down while she was under it."

Quinn felt the fine tremors that coursed through Honor where their shoulders touched, and she gently placed just the tips of her fingers against Honor's knee.

"It was a freak accident." When she continued, Honor's voice was firm, but hollow, completely devoid of emotion. "The beam hit her in the back of the neck. Just like that. From one second to the next—she was here, and then—she wasn't."

"I'm so sorry."

"They brought her to the ER, but there was nothing I could do."

The ache in Quinn's chest intensified, and without realizing it, she reached for Honor's hand. Honor's fingers when they closed around Quinn's were cold, and Quinn drew Honor's hand against her middle and held it there, as if warming her hand would somehow ease her pain. She couldn't bear to think about Honor having suffered Terry's loss, let alone feeling responsible in some way.

Honor shuddered as if shaking off a dream and gave a small tremulous laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you all of that. I never have before."

"That's okay," Quinn said gently. "Are you all right?"

"A little embarrassed."

"God, why?"

"You certainly didn't ask for my life story." Carefully, Honor withdrew her fingers from Quinn's grip, instantly feeling the chill return, even though the air was warm.

"You said we were friends, right?"

"Yes. I did." Honor shook her head, feeling slightly disoriented. "And what I started out
wanting
to say was that I value your friendship, but that's all I want. All I can offer."

"I understand." Quinn kept her voice steady and even, imagining that Honor must be vulnerable, emotionally raw, after revisiting Terry's death. She didn't want to do or say anything to add to her discomfort. "I'm so sorry about Terry, Honor. I feel privileged that you would trust me enough to tell me about her."

"You made it easy." Honor turned in the small space until she could face Quinn. Their knees touched, and although she wanted to reach out and take Quinn's hand again, she did not. "You're a remarkable woman, Quinn Maguire."

"I'm not so sure of that, but thank you."

Honor did touch her then, just a brush of fingers against Quinn's cheek. "I'm sorry, sorrier than I can say, about the situation at work. I'll do my best to clear it up quickly, I promise."

"I know you will." Quinn stood, because she needed the distance to say goodbye. "Will you call me as soon as you know anything?"

Standing as well, Honor nodded. "Of course. It might take a day or two until I can meet with the appropriate people."

"I'll be here." Quinn tipped her head toward the house.

"Good night then." Honor started down the stairs, Pooch scrambling after her. Several steps down, she turned and looked back up to where Quinn stood silhouetted against the night. "It helped, telling you about Terry. Thank you for that, Quinn."

"You're welcome. Be careful going home."

Then Quinn turned and disappeared into the house.

* * * * *

Honor let herself in the back door, hung up Pooch's leash, and walked through the house into the living room. Phyllis sat on the couch watching one of the pseudoforensic cop dramas with the volume turned down low. Honor leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then sat down with her. "Everything quiet?"

"Not a peep."

"She could sleep through anything."

"That she could." The final credits rolled and Phyllis clicked the remote to shut off the television, then turned to regard Honor. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"Yes, it's a beautiful night."

Phyllis waited, wondering at the brooding expression on Honor's face. The explanation wasn't long in coming.

"I told Quinn about Terry. About what happened to her."

"Did she ask?" Phyllis kept her surprise to herself. Honor rarely discussed Terry's death with anyone.

"No, she didn't. I just...wanted to tell her."

"How do you feel?" Phyllis asked gently, sliding closer until she could thread her arm around Honor.

"Sad." Honor rested her cheek against Phyllis's shoulder and sighed. "I miss her."

"Me, too." Phyllis gave a little squeeze. "You okay?"

"Yes, I am." Surprisingly, Honor realized that she was. Terry's loss hurt to the depths of her soul, and probably always would. But the sharp edges of her pain, the ones that made her bleed, were tempered now in a way they never had been before. She wasn't certain when that had happened, but it had taken telling Quinn to make her.realize it was so.

"How was Quinn with it all?"

"She was wonderful."

* * * * *

Quinn tried to get comfortable, but it was impossible. She'd taken off the shoulder immobilizer in an attempt to find a position in which she could hope to fail asleep. After three Tylenols, her shoulder still throbbed insistently, but that wasn't what kept her awake. She couldn't stop thinking about Honor, Honor and Terry. Childhood sweethearts—fairy-tale lovers. It made sense, now, that Honor still wore Terry's ring.

The love in Honor's voice had been unmistakable, and the pain that rippled beneath every memory obviously unmitigated by time. Quinn reminded herself of her own words the very first time she had seen Honor Blake.
Never get involved with a married woman.

Now, when her career was in the balance and she already felt more than she should for the woman who controlled her future, it was definitely time to heed her own advice.

Chapter Sixteen

L inda, would you give the guy in seven a tetanus shot and I'll call the lab for the results of the chem panel and coag profile?"

"Sure." Linda leaned both forearms on the counter and studied Honor, who sat writing notes in a chart. Honor had been oddly quiet all morning and almost seemed as if she was avoiding everyone, particularly Linda. "Something wrong?"

"Brown recluse bite."

Linda bit back a retort.
"Besides
the fact that you've got someone with a spider bite."

"Nope," Honor said shortly, keeping her attention focused on the discharge summary for the college student who had decided it would be fun to sleep out in the park with his buddies the night before. Now all he had to show for his adventure was a hangover and an area of inflammation the size of a palm print on his thigh. With any luck, the spider bite would heal without permanent tissue damage.

"Where's Quinn today?" Linda persisted. "Isn't she slated to work this shift?"

Honor looked up, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "Is there some reason you think I should know where she is?"

"Uh...maybe because you're the ER chief, and you make up the schedules?"

"She'll be off for a few days." Honor snapped the metal bifold chart closed and dropped it into a nearby rack marked Completed. "Who's next?"

Linda raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

"What?" Honor said in exasperation, unable to ignore her friend's appraising gaze.

Silence.

"In case you haven't noticed," Honor pointed out in an exaggerated tone of false patience, "we're up to our asses in patients around here. So maybe we could just concentrate on business for a while, okay?"

"Oh, absolutely. And if we had a surgeon to help us, we could probably get the boy in ten with the chin laceration taken care of and maybe even the little old lady in twelve who fell and most likely broke her hip."

Honor gritted her teeth and mentally counted to ten. "I'll see the possible hip fracture right now. Have the senior resident take care of the laceration."

"Yes, Dr. Blake," Linda said sweetly.

"Thank you." Honor slid the chart for twelve out of the rack and walked away.

She'd slept poorly, awoken tired, and now was agitated and out of sorts. As soon as she'd been able to get someone to answer the phone in the administrative offices, she'd set up an appointment to see the hospital malpractice attorney. Of course, the earliest opening she could get was the next morning. Which meant that the earliest she could even hope to have an answer for Quinn would be the next afternoon.

Two days. Two days isn 't very long. Hardly any time at all.

Despite the fact that Quinn had only been working in the ER a short time, Honor couldn't help feeling as if something vital was missing after only a few hours without her. That sense of absence was a low-level ache that kept Honor edgy and distracted—and annoyed.

Stop making more out of it than it is. It's just a typical crazy Monday morning. No one wants to spend time in the ER on the weekend, but
now
all of a sudden every little ache and pain is an emergency. It has nothing to do with the fact that Quinn isn't here. I certainly don't miss her. I mean, I miss her
expertise.
But I don't miss
her.

Satisfied that nothing was truly amiss, Honor pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the small cubicle with a smile. She glanced at the chart and then at the elderly woman in the bed. "Ms. Richards? I'm Dr. Blake. Can you tell me what happened this morning?"

An hour later, Fiona Richards had been x-rayed, medicated with analgesics, and transferred to a bed on the orthopedic floor for treatment of her broken hip. Fortunately, the fracture was nondisplaced, and it was possible that she might be able to avoid surgery. Honor completed the paperwork and glanced at the clock. She was dismayed to see that it was only noon. The day was dragging and, at this rate, promised to be endless,

"Hey, Dr. Blake," Tom Finley called. "Is Dr. Maguire coming in? There's a fellow in three with a cold foot. I think he might have an arterial occlusion, and I thought if she—"

"No, she won't be in today, Tom. What's the history?" Honor stepped out of the path of the refrigerator-sized portable x-ray machine that an x-ray tech maneuvered through the hall with reckless abandon. Honor put her back against the wall to avoid being crushed, and Tom sidestepped as well and joined her.

"The usual. Heavy smoker, long history of calf pain with ambulation. And now he says he woke up this morning and couldn't feel his foot."

"Sounds like you're right about an acute arterial blockage," Honor muttered. "I'll take a quick look, and if he's got no pulses, we'll have to get him down for a flow study. Just give me a minute."

"Sure."

On her way back to the nurses' station to check the labs on the patient with the possible vascular occlusion, the second-year ER resident hailed her.

"Oh, Dr. Blake! I've got a fifteen-year-old with a metacarpal fracture. Is Dr. Maguire—"

"No," Honor snapped. "Page whoever's on hand call."

All of a sudden, the ER can 't run without her?
Honor forged on, leaving the resident staring after her, a perplexed expression on his face.

And the next few hours only brought more of the same—-a steady flow of patients that kept Honor busy and her mind occupied. But during every lull, no matter how brief, she thought about Quinn. She thought of how easy it had been to talk to her, even about something as painful and private as Terry's death. Honor had only ever allowed herself to rely on a very few people, and
those
people she would have trusted with her life. Terry, Phyllis, and in recent years, Linda. And yet, with a few words and the gentlest of touches, Quinn had made her feel safe and comforted.

It's hard to believe that just a few days ago, I told Phyllis I didn 't trust her. How could I have been so wrong?

Honor was startled from her reverie when Linda asked, "How about taking a break for lunch?"

"Thanks," Honor said, smiling briefly. "I'm not really hungry."

"I could be persuaded to get street dogs from one of the vendors out front," Linda said in a voice that suggested the chili-slathered hot dogs were the next best thing to caviar.

Honor laughed. "Thanks anyway. Listen, I'm sorry I was a bear earli—"

"Hey, Linda!" the ward clerk called. "Dr. Maguire is on the phone for you."

Linda raised a surprised brow. "Me?"

"Uh-huh. Line three."

Casting a questioning look at Honor, Linda picked up a nearby phone and punched in the extension. "Quinn? Hey, it's Linda."

Honor crowded close. "Everything okay?"

"What's that?" Linda asked, waving Honor away. "Oh, sure."

"Linda, is she all right?"

When Linda stepped back a pace, it was all Honor could do not to follow her in an attempt to hear the conversation. With a start, she realized that she desperately wanted to hear Quinn's voice. She wanted to ask her how her shoulder was, and how she'd slept, and if she was having a problem with her heart rhythm. She wanted to tell her how much it had meant to her that they'd talked the night before.