Fated Love (9 page)

"Classic presentation." Honor shrugged. "It's right there in the ER manual."

"Sure, and so are about a thousand other things."

"I'm lucky. I have a memory for esoteric facts."

"Uh-huh." Linda knew that there was a reason that Honor was the ER chief at such a young age. Honor had been a star, even as a med student. She just had that uncanny sixth sense that made some people true physicians. Honor had the art as well as the skill for healing. "But we both know it takes more than memorizing what's in the book to recognize it when you see it."

Embarrassed by the praise, Honor kept her eyes down, busying herself with peeling potatoes for the salad. "Besides, Quinn was the one to pick up that something was off. I was just the cleanup batter."

"Right." Linda snorted, separating chicken pieces into separate bowls. "I agree with you about Quinn, though. She not only has good hands, she's got good instincts."

Honor thought about Quinn's hands, about how they were a microcosm of the woman herself. Certain and sure in the midst of a crisis, moving with a surgeon's self-assured touch. Then, surprisingly, so gentle and tender when she had cared for Arly. A heady mixture, especially in a woman so confident and attractive and—

"Honor? Hello?"

"Huh?" Honor jumped, startled. "Sorry. I was. ..wandering."

"I noticed." Linda cocked her head and gave Honor a long stare. "What's up?"

Honor shook her head and reached for the onions. "Absolutely nothing."

* * * * *

Quinn stood in the middle of her living room and turned slowly, surveying her progress. "Not bad."

She'd jockeyed the two bookcases against the wall opposite the windows and unpacked most of her books. The sofa and the television were situated so she could sit on one and see the other. She needed a coffee table, she realized. She had nowhere to put her feet
or
her dinner while watching the news. She hadn't acquired much furniture while in Manhattan, because she had subleased a furnished apartment during her year of trauma training. She had planned to buy a place once she had settled into her new position as an attending at St. Michael's. Now, she wasn't sure what she would be doing in another year.

No point going there. Time to start on the bedroom.
She tried to remember where she had seen the box marked Sheets and, on her way down the hall, glanced at the plain, round clock she had hung from a hook in the kitchen.
Almost noon.
She skittered to a stop.

"Hell. I still have to shower, get dressed, and figure out where to buy wine." A surge of happiness caused her to smile. "Guess I can't do any more unpacking,"

Thirty minutes later, she was clean and dressed in faded jeans, Nike running shoes, and a navy blue polo shirt. She spread out the plastic city street map on the kitchen counter and opened the neighborhood guide next to it. She found an ad for a wine and liquor store in her zip code and traced the street names on the map until she knew how to get there. She slid her wallet into her rear pocket, her keys into her right front one, and set out for the barbecue.

Once in the liquor store, she took a few minutes to choose both a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine. Then it occurred to her that she should bring something for the hostess.

"Where's Jude when I
really
need advice?" she muttered to herself. Saxon Sinclair had been more than just Quinn's former boss. The chief of trauma at St. Michael's, and her partner, Jude Castle, a documentary filmmaker, had been good friends. The year of her trauma fellowship had been an intense time when she had spent nearly seventy-five percent of her waking hours in Sinclair's company. In addition to their constant physical proximity and similar professional goals, they had discovered a number of other interests in common. Now Quinn owed her present job to Sax and a great deal of her sanity to Jude.

Giving herself a shake, Quinn took the wine to the counter and paid. Then she stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked around for some kind of shop where she could pick up a small thank-you gift for Linda.

* * * * *

"Honor, could you get that?" Linda, up to her wrists in potato salad, asked when the doorbell rang.

"Sure." Honor reached for the dish towel and dried her hands on the way through the house to the front door. She pushed the screen door open and regarded the woman who stood on the other side with her arms laden with packages. She took in the dark blue shirt that matched the gorgeous eyes and the long, clean lines of her, liking the way she looked with that half-shy, half-cocky grin on her handsome face. "Hi, Quinn."

"Hi." Quinn's initial surprise at seeing Honor at the door was quickly eclipsed by the sight of Honor in casual clothes. She wore cargo shorts and a cotton T-shirt that displayed her smoothly toned arms and legs. Her hair was pulled back with some kind of tie at the back and she looked about twenty. For some reason, Quinn always had difficulty not looking at Honor's breasts, and today was no exception. The T-shirt clung to her curves in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination to make Quinn's throat go dry and her pulse race.

Both women jumped at the sound of Linda's voice behind them.

"I thought maybe you got lost out here, Honor. Hi, Quinn." Linda looked from her friend to Quinn and back again, noting the simultaneous blushes and shuffling feet. Smiling to herself, she reached out her arms. "I take it those are for me?"

"Yeah," Quinn mumbled as she shifted bags around, handing over the wine. "I got red and white, because I couldn't figure out what else to do."

Both Honor and Linda laughed. Honor finally stepped aside so Quinn could enter.

"And this is for you and your family." Quinn held out a rectangular package about the size of a shoe box.

"Oh, a present!" Linda shamelessly clutched the box to her chest while simultaneously pushing the wine into Honor's arms. "I
love
presents. Let's go into the kitchen so I can open this."

Not waiting for a reply, Linda turned and hurried away, leaving Honor and Quinn to follow.

"How did you know?" Honor asked, laughing gently.

"Know what?"

"That she adores surprises."

"Just lucky."

Honor glanced up at Quinn, aware that Quinn had been watching her intently as they walked through the house. "That was very nice of you."

"It was kind of her to invite me."

Yes, and I didn 't want her to.
At the moment, Honor couldn't remember why that was. She was inexplicably happy to see her new colleague.

"Will you two hurry up," Linda called from the kitchen.

"Go ahead, open the darn thing," Honor said affectionately as she and Quinn crowded around Linda at the kitchen table.

Linda lifted the lid from the box and carefully folded back the tissue paper, giving a small cry of pleasure. Carefully, she lifted out a small crystal wind chime. The delicate glass rods, suspended from a polished silver disk by clear nylon strands, varied in length from four to ten inches and sparkled with a rainbow of colors. When she gently brushed them with her fingers, the tinkling sounds were high and pure.

"It's beautiful," Linda breathed. She glanced at Quinn in delight. "Thank you so much. That was so kind of you."

Quinn blushed. "My pleasure."

"I think we should put it in the tree in the backyard, don't you, Honor?"

"Sure. You'll be able to hear it inside when the windows are open."

"Could you put it up now?" Linda gave Honor a hopeful glance. "Pleeaase?"

Honor smiled, shaking her head. "Can
anyone
ever say no to you?"

"Not that I can ever recall," Robin said fondly as she came through the back door. She nodded at Quinn and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Robin, Linda's spouse."

"Quinn Maguire." Quinn took the sturdy hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you."

"Look, honey." Linda held up the wind chime, causing the rods to ring melodiously once again. "Quinn brought it for us. Isn't it great?"

"Beautiful." Robin slid her arm around Linda's waist and kissed her cheek.
"I'd
put it up for you myself, but I just fired up the grill. Aren't I supposed to be cooking something?"

"You go tend to the barbecue," Honor said, reaching for the wind chimes. "I'll put this up. Where's the ladder?"

"In the garage," Robin said. "If you give me a minute, I'll get it for you."

Honor shook her head. "Never mind. I can find it. The tools are in there, too, aren't they?"

"Wait until Robin can help," Linda cautioned. "I don't want you climbing up in that tree by yourself. All we need is for you to fall and break your ne..."

Linda's face paled as her words trailed off. She looked stricken.

Honor blinked, then gave her friend a kind smile. Her voice was gentle when she spoke. "Not to worry."

"I'll give her a hand," Quinn volunteered into the silence that ensued. She glanced at Honor, trying to decipher the expression on her face. Not unhappiness exactly—more like a poignant sadness. Hesitantly, she added, "If that's okay."

"Perfect," Linda said, squeezing Honor's hand and then making shooing motions with her own. "Everybody out so I can get the rest of this organized. Robin, who has kid duty?"

"Phyllis is playing Trivial Pursuit Junior with the older ones, and Bill and Sue are taking a lifeguard shift by the pool."

"Okay, then. All bases are covered. Go. Go."

Obediently, the three trooped out. Quinn and Honor headed for the garage behind the house while Robin returned to the center of activity in the backyard.

"Looks like quite a crowd," Quinn observed, taking in the gathering of men, women, and children of all ages. She had a moment of feeling completely out of place, but when she glanced at Honor, she didn't care. She just liked being around her.

"Linda and Robin's parties are legend. Plus, once they invite all their kids' friends, then they have to invite all the parents. Most everybody knows everybody else because of soccer, anyhow."

"Soccer is big here, I take it," Quinn remarked, standing aside as Honor rolled up the garage door.

"You could say that." Honor laughed. "From the middle of the summer until the snow falls, our lives revolve around soccer. Afternoon practices, Saturday morning games—which, by the way, start next weekend—and all of the events surrounding that. It's a social phenomenon."

"Sounds like fun." Quinn realized that she meant it. She hadn't done much of anything except study and work for over a decade. She had participated in organized sports in college, but once involved in the clinical portion of her medical training, followed quickly by residency, she hadn't done anything except work. It occurred to her as she watched Honor sorting through a toolbox that she'd never had anything approaching a normal life. She wasn't sure she wanted one. Or that she'd know what to do, even if she had one.
That hardly matters, since it's not likely to happen.

Honor turned abruptly, a hammer in her hand, and caught the contemplative look on Quinn's face. Those piercing blue eyes were fixed on her, but Honor didn't think the other woman was actually seeing her. She appeared lost in thought, and there was a hint of both melancholy and resignation in her expression. It surprised Honor and just as quickly touched a chord in her. For one wild moment, she had the irrational urge to reach out and stroke Quinn's cheek.

"Found it," Honor said softly.

Quinn gave a small start, then smiled sheepishly. "How about the ladder?"

"Over there,'' Honor indicated with an index finger. "Can you handle it? I'm going to hunt for a hook of some kind."

"No problem." Quinn took the ladder down from the double hooks that held it to the wall and rested it over one shoulder. She carefully maneuvered it out of the garage, taking care not to pivot abruptly and endanger Honor's head. "Ready when you are."

Honor, carrying the tools and the wind chime, led the way around the periphery of the crowd toward a large maple that loomed high above the rear corner of the house. A horizontal limb stretched out above the back deck below and arched over the slanted roof toward the rear bedroom windows. Honor pointed upward. "That's Linda and Robin's bedroom. If we get this up on that branch, they'll be able to hear it in the house."

Quinn craned her neck and estimated the distance. "It's probably twenty feet up to that limb. How are you on heights?"

"Piece of cake." Honor studied Quinn speculatively. "Why?"

"I...uh...I hate being more than two feet above sea level. I have to take Valium to get into an airplane,"

"Why, Dr. Maguire," Honor laughed, charmed by the genuine blush that suffused Quinn's face. "I never would have imagined that a stunning butch like you would be afraid of anything."

Quinn's mouth dropped open at precisely the same instant that Honor's eyes grew wide with shock. '

Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that.

Did she just say that I was stunning?

"I mean...that is..."

"Ah...I..."

Honor finally recovered her voice, if not her composure. She pointed over her head with the hammer. "Shall we?"

Quinn nodded, then realized that she still held the ladder balanced on her shoulder and quickly moved forward. She found level ground for the foot supports and braced the top against the tree limb. Just looking up made her queasy. As Honor stepped onto the first rung, she murmured, "I'm quite happy to be out-butched in this particular instance, Dr. Blake. As unusual as that may be."

A flush rose up the back of Honor's neck. "Just hold steady."

"Don't worry," Quinn said firmly. "I'm not letting go."

Honor turned and looked down into Quinn's eyes. She found the calm strength in them comforting. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

As Honor made her way nimbly up the ladder, Arly appeared by Quinn's side. "Hi, Quinn."

"Hi Arly." Quinn spared Arly a glance before looking back up to where Honor now leaned out to one side, screwing a small hook into the horizontal portion of the tree limb. "How you doing?"

"My stitches itch."