Night Call Page 9

  Even though Tristan knew it was crazy, she felt as if Jett had reached out and touched her. Hell, she definitely needed a date, because she was starting to imagine things. Jett hadn’t shown any indication of interest, and even if she had, she definitely wasn’t Tristan’s type. Nothing about her suggested she did anything casually. Of course, that was exactly what made her so intriguing. Despite the almost overwhelming urge to stop and look back again, Tristan forced herself into the elevator. She had a patient to take care of, and she didn’t need any complications in her life. Everything was going along exactly the way she wanted it to go. Smooth, easy, and no strings attached. Just the way she wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  When Quinn let herself into the house shortly after eight the next morning, she was greeted by silence. She was used to coming home after twenty-four hours on call to find Arly’s grandmother, Phyllis, busy in the kitchen making breakfast or getting Arly ready for school. In the summer when there was no school, Phyllis supervised Arly after Honor left for her shift in the ER until Quinn returned home from night call. And since Quinn would usually have been up all night operating, Phyllis often took Arly out somewhere while Quinn slept. They never left this early, however.

  Quinn checked the kitchen. A full pot of coffee sat on the warming plate of the coffeemaker. There was no sign of breakfast dishes, and the smell of pancakes or muffins was absent. Nothing felt quite right, and a wave of completely irrational panic swept through her. She shook it off quickly, knowing that if anything had happened to Honor or Arly or Jack, someone would have called her. Still, she wanted to see her family. For all of the excitement of the last week and a half, and the amazing joy of bringing Jack home, she hadn’t been able to forget or shake off those few minutes in the delivery room when she’d feared she would lose Honor. Nothing in her life had ever been as terrifying as imagining a future without her.

  Telling herself there was nothing to worry about, Quinn climbed the stairs as quickly as she could while trying to be quiet. The master bedroom was situated diagonally across the hall from Arly’s room, and she passed her partially open door to peek in Arly’s open door. Arly sat cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, a book open in her lap. When she saw Quinn, she touched her finger to her lips and shook her head with a warning look. Instantly, Quinn’s anxiety dissipated and she crossed to the bed.

  “What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Mommy and Jack are sleeping.”

  “Where’s Phyllis?”

  “She went home. She said we could call her when everyone got up and she’d fix breakfast.”

  “Didn’t you want to go with her?” Considering that home for Phyllis was the other half of the duplex and that Honor was just across the hall, there was no reason Arly couldn’t stay on her own in her room. After all, she slept in her room alone every night too. Still, it was a change. Everyone’s routine was disrupted.

  Arly shook her head. “I wanted to stay here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” But she didn’t look at Quinn when she answered.

  Quinn sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Arly curled up against her side. “What are you reading?”

  “The Golden Compass.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Arly nodded. “It’s like Harry Potter for grown-up kids.”

  Quinn smiled. She’d read some of the book. The story of a young girl in an alternate universe was wildly imaginative and beautiful at times, but darker than Harry Potter. The series was supposed to be for young readers, but some of the events were pretty sophisticated, nonetheless. “Not scary or anything?”

  “It’s just make-believe, Quinn.”

  “That’s right.” Quinn kissed the top of Arly’s head. “I forgot that part.”

  Arly giggled. Then she slid her arm around Quinn’s middle and became quiet. After a few seconds, Quinn said, “What are you thinking?”

  “Is Mom really going to be okay?”

  Quinn was careful to stay relaxed because she didn’t want any of her secret fears bleeding over to her child. “Yes, she’s going to be fine. Are you worried?”

  “She looks kind of sick.”

  “She’s not sick, honey.” Quinn pulled Arly close. “She’s pretty tired. Mom explained about the operation that she needed so Jack could come out, right?” Arly nodded. “Well, it takes a while to get back to normal after that.”

  “And then everything will be like before?”

  “Things will be a little different because now instead of you and me and Mom and Phyllis being a family, there will be you and me and Mom and Phyllis and Jack.”

  Arly sat up and regarded Quinn intently. “Is Jack really my brother?”

  “What?” Quinn was so surprised she forgot she was supposed to be the all-knowing, rational adult. “Sure he is. How come you’re asking?”

  “Tommy said that Jack can’t be my brother unless we have a father too. And we don’t have one.”

  “There’s lots of ways to make families, remember, we talked about that? Families are people who live together because they love each other and want to take care of each other. Like we do.”

  Arly nodded.

  Quinn hugged her hard. “So now we have Jack, and your mother and I love you both and we’re all going to live together until you’re grown up. So that makes us your parents and Jack your brother.”

  “So the father part doesn’t count?”

  “Well, he counts if you have one, but you don’t need one.” Quinn wondered if they were going to have the birds and the bees talk now. She glanced through the open door to the bedroom across the hall. The door was ajar an inch or two, but Honor was probably asleep. She wished Honor would come to her rescue, but at least now she didn’t break into a cold sweat every time she had one of these conversations with Arly. She only wished she had more time to prepare for topics like this one. Someday she was probably going to say something wrong and cause permanent psychological damage.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Can I call Grandma now so we can have breakfast?”

  “Yes. Go call her. I’m starving.” As Arly climbed over her, Quinn swatted her on the butt. “I’m going to go check on your mother. If she’s still sleeping, we need to still be quiet.”

  “Okay.”

  Arly disappeared on her way downstairs to use the phone, and Quinn stood and stretched. Her lower back ached from standing most of the night repairing a torn pulmonary artery in the boy with the gunshot wound. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and she felt just a little bit fuzzy. Still, all that mattered was that she was home. She walked to her bedroom, cautiously opened the door wide, and paused inside the door to take in the scene.

  Honor lay sleeping, Jack cradled in the curve of her arm. She appeared very pale, but incredibly peaceful. Even in her sleep, she looked happy. Quinn drank her in, still amazed that this was her life. This woman, these children, this home. More than she had ever dreamed.

  Honor shifted and opened her eyes. Used to waking completely in a heartbeat, she focused on Quinn instantly. “You’re home. I thought I heard you talking a few minutes ago. Did I dream that?”

  “No.” Quinn stretched out on the bed and kissed Honor’s cheek. “I was talking to Arly.”

  “Mmm.” Honor looped an arm around Quinn’s neck and pulled her closer until she could kiss her on the mouth. “Missed you.”

  “Missed you too.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Not so much.” Quinn reached across Honor’s body and stroked the baby’s head. His hair was so soft, like nothing she’d ever felt before. He scrunched up his face and made a tiny mewling sound. “Uh-oh. Sorry.”

  Honor laughed. “It’s okay if he wakes up. He’s going to soon anyhow. It’s about time for another feeding.”

  “Should I do anything with him?”

  “He’s good for a little while. Phyllis changed him earlier, right after he ate.�
�� Honor caught Quinn’s hand and held their joined hands between her breasts. “Did you eat yet?”

  “I was just about to go downstairs. Arly’s calling Phyllis for breakfast.”

  “Phyllis isn’t here?” Honor frowned. “What was Arly doing here by herself?”

  “She was reading in her room. I think she’s a little bit worried about you.”

  Honor passed the baby to Quinn. “Here, take him. I need to get up so she can see that I’m all right.”

  “I thought we agreed on bed rest until you get another transfusion tomorrow.” Quinn tucked the baby against her shoulder.

  “I feel fine. I’m not an invalid.”

  Quinn wrapped her arm around Honor’s shoulders as Honor threw back the covers and sat up. “It will only scare her if you overdo too soon and she sees you not looking good. I’ve got a better idea. Give me one minute, okay?”

  “I just don’t want her—”

  “One minute.” Quinn put Jack back in his bassinet by the bed, pleased when he didn’t wake up. Then she ducked out into the hallway and called softly, “Arly? Come on upstairs.”

  A few seconds later Arly appeared at the foot of the stairs. “Grandma is on her way over.”

  “Perfect timing.” When Arly reached the top of the stairs, Quinn took her hand. “Let’s go see Mom for a minute.”

  Quinn led Arly to the bed and patted a spot next to Honor’s hip. “Climb up here.” Then she sat down on the far side of Arly and rested her chin on the top of Arly’s head. “So what do you think,” she whispered to Arly, “about you and me fixing Mom breakfast and bringing it up here. Then she can eat and we’ll watch Jack.”

  “Yeah,” Arly said with enthusiasm. “We can make pancakes.”

  Laughing, Honor extended her arms. “Come here and give me a hug first.” When Arly hesitated, she said, “It’s okay, honey. I’m a little sore but I’ll be much better in a day or two. Especially if you and Quinn are going to spoil me.”

  “We can spoil you plenty.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Honor met Quinn’s gaze over the top of Arly’s head as she held her. I love you, she mouthed silently.

  Quinn caressed Honor’s calf beneath the sheets and whispered, “Me too.”

  She drew a breath of contentment and felt her fatigue drop away. For most of the last twenty-four hours she’d been too busy to think about anything except the work she had to do. But in the brief respite between surgeries, after checking the postoperative patients, or while stealing a moment for a bite to eat, she thought about her family. She knew that however hard the night might be, when morning came, she’d be going home to those who gave her strength and healed her. Life was good.

  *

  Tristan headed to the locker room, finally finished making post-op rounds in the recovery room, checking on the patients in the surgical intensive care unit she’d taken care of during the night, and writing follow-up notes. She was done for the day. In fact, she was off for two days, until Sunday. Considering she’d been busy covering extra shifts with people away, first at the meeting and then on vacation, she was ready for a break. She was ready for more than that.

  Anesthesia, as she and her colleagues liked to say, was a specialty marked by long periods of boredom interspersed with moments of sheer panic. Most cases were fairly routine once the patient was anesthetized and the procedure was underway. During surgery she spent her time monitoring vital signs and ensuring that the various drugs were at the appropriate levels to keep the patient unaware but not so high as to become dangerous. Induction—putting the patient to sleep—and emergence—waking them up—were the tense times for her and could be pretty challenging when complications arose. And of course, there were the heart-pounding, gut-clenching moments during a trauma resuscitation when she had to make snap judgments and perform difficult technical procedures with only seconds to spare.

  She’d spent the last few hours giving anesthesia to an otherwise healthy twenty-year-old woman who’d had a few drinks too many, fallen asleep at the wheel, and driven her car into the Schuylkill River. In addition to almost drowning, she’d broken her neck and the orthopedic surgeons decided to do immediate bone grafts to stabilize her cervical spine. Once Tristan positioned her face down on the table, secured her airway, and anesthetized her, she didn’t have all that much to do. So between recording vital signs and checking on the progress of surgery, her mind drifted.

  She wondered how the governor’s daughter-in-law was doing. She wanted to stop by and check her status but had resisted, fearing it would seem inappropriate. No one had actually said she couldn’t review the chart, but she didn’t think it was a good idea. Not knowing what was going on with the patient or the medical inquiry only made her more agitated, and she wasn’t sure what to do with her uneasiness. She didn’t want to talk about it with her colleagues. She was mildly embarrassed and figured everyone had a similar story, so what was the point. Still, she’d told Jett, and it felt good. Good to tell her. Good to hear the sympathy in her voice and see the trusting certainty in her eyes.

  She’d thought a lot about Jett during the long hours of the night, snippets of conversation coming back to her along with the flash of her eyes or the lightning-quick grin that rarely lingered. Now that she was done for the day, she was still thinking about Jett, and that probably wasn’t the best idea. Jett reminded her of a skittish thoroughbred. Not the kind of animal to take out for a casual ride, and too fine to risk breaking with a heavy hand. No, Jett was most definitely not her usual fare. But thinking about her wound her up just the same. A heavy pulse in the pit of her stomach demanded attention.

  What she needed was a diversion. Something to help her relax and take her mind off work and the accusation that she was incompetent, and to help her ignore the stirring in her depths whenever she thought about Jett’s low, calm voice and intense eyes. While she waited for the elevator to the parking garage, she scrolled through the familiar numbers on her cell phone until she found one that she thought would work. She hit speed dial and waited.

  “Darla? It’s Tristan.” The elevator doors opened, she stepped on and pushed the button for her floor. “Any chance you can be late for work? I was thinking you might like some breakfast in bed. Where are you?” She got off at her floor and strode rapidly toward her car, shedding the skin of one life for another with every step away from the hospital. “I’ll pick you up right outside, then. Be there in a minute.”

  She closed her phone and jumped in her car. She’d been seeing Darla, a statuesque redhead who worked in the accounting department at the medical school, fairly regularly. Darla had been in a long-term relationship that had ended messily, and she wasn’t in the mood for another commitment anytime soon. She was, however, usually in the mood for a few laughs and demanding sex. Tristan had soon discovered that Darla especially got off on sex in public places. Since it amused her to amuse Darla, she usually went along with it.

  Gunning the engine, she sped down the ramp toward the exit. A little dose of Darla in the morning was just what she needed to diffuse the cloud of disquiet that hung heavy in her mind.

  *

  Jett slammed the hood of her Jeep and rocked back on her heels, resigned. After fiddling with her battery, the ignition, and the engine for an hour, Jett finally admitted she wasn’t going to get the damn thing to start. It had finally died. Since she wasn’t in the mood to hang around waiting for a tow, she’d call when she got home and make arrangements to meet someone before her shift later that night. Besides, walking two miles home would be a good way to unwind. Maybe when she got there, she’d be tired in a good way. Tired enough to sleep without dreaming.

  She hustled down the stairwell to the street, blinking when she emerged from semidarkness into the bright sunlight. Hospital staffers hurried toward the main entrance and food vendors jostled for position along the curb. As she waited to cross at the corner, a familiar car slowed for the light. Tristan’s car. Jett felt a surge of unfamiliar pleasure. Maybe she coul
d repay her for breakfast.

  She leaned down to the open passenger window, about to call out a greeting and an invitation, when she realized Tristan wasn’t alone. A very attractive redhead crowded close to Tristan, her hand in Tristan’s lap as she nuzzled her neck. Tristan stared straight ahead, her hands clenched on the wheel.

  Jett straightened and hurriedly stepped away. Tristan obviously already had plans for the day.

  Chapter Ten

  “Are you avoiding me?” Gail slid onto the bench in the mess tent next to Jett.

  “No, why would I?” Jett sipped her coffee and hoped she sounded normal. In fact, she’d been all twisted around since the night she ended up in Gail’s tent. When her mind wasn’t totally consumed with staying alive, and keeping her fellow soldiers the same way, she thought about that night. About how good it felt to have someone else take charge, to have someone else take responsibility, to have someone else blot out the horrors that she could never quite erase from her mind. None of those feelings were normal for her, but then nothing here was normal and the longer she stayed, the more lost she felt. Even flying, her one true pleasure, was slowly becoming associated with tragedy and loss. And because she wasn’t really herself, and because she’d almost let Gail do all those things she ordinarily wouldn’t want, she’d gotten as far away from her as fast as she could.

  But when she closed her eyes, she thought about her.

  Gail moved closer and lowered her voice. “You were upset when you left the other night. I was having such a good time, just relaxing with you, I didn’t realize you weren’t enjoying yourself.”