by Radcliffe
Chapter Seven
Marge greeted Reese with a grin when she walked into the gym that afternoon
after work. "I thought you might not make it," she said.
Reese glanced up at the clock behind Marge’s head. It read five-thirty, exactly the same time she arrived for her workout every evening.
"How come?" she asked in surprise. "I said I’d be here."
Marge shrugged elaborately. "Silly me! I should have known that was as good as a guarantee!!"
Reese just shrugged at the gentle chiding and set about her routine. She finished three sets of leg and back exercises in ninety minutes, then went to the locker room to shower. She put on pressed tan chinos, a navy blue denim shirt, and a light beige blazer that covered the holster she secured under her left arm in a shoulder rig. She checked the mirror - the gun didn’t show - and went out to meet Marge.
They walked down Commercial Street toward town and turned in at the Cactus Flower. It was still too early in the season to worry about reservations, but that would change within the next few days. They got a good table at the front windows overlooking the street, so they could watch the slow stroll of passersby as they dined. They both ordered margaritas while they looked over the menu.
"This isn’t a date, you know," Marge announced after they had given their orders to the waitress.
Reese sipped her drink - it was strong and tart, and gazed at the woman across from her calmly. "It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be."
Marge laughed. "This is Provincetown, Sheriff! When one woman asks another woman out to dinner, it’s usually a date."
Reese nodded solemnly. "Then why isn’t this a date?"
Marge stared back, totally nonplussed. The startling handsome woman across from her was impossible to figure out. She gave nothing away in her expression, or her voice. Nothing seemed to surprise her, or throw her off stride. Marge wondered what, if anything, could shake her calm control. She also wondered what price that kind of control exacted.
Reese seemed completely without pretense, and Marge answered in kind. "It’s not a date for two reasons - my expectations, and my intentions."
"How so?" Reese inquired. She voiced no challenge, only honest interest.
"I’d be a fool to think you’d be interested in me. For one thing, I’m twenty years older than you-"
Reese smiled at that, shaking her head. "Hardly," she said, studying Marge’s tanned, well-developed form.
"Close enough," Marge grunted.
Reese waited while the silence grew. "And the other reason?" she asked quietly.
Marge blushed as she said, "You’re too damn butch to go for an old jock like me. I figure your tastes run more to the femme type."
Reese leaned back while the waitress slid their plates in front of them, contemplating Marge’s words. Marge was the second person in as many weeks to say that to her. She had never thought of herself as butch, and tried to imagine how she appeared to others. It was something with which she had no experience. Up until this point in her life, her rank had determined how others related to her, and how she related to them. The rules of conduct, including who you could "fraternize" with, were clear. They were frequently circumvented, but not by Reese. It wasn’t that she agreed with the rules so much as she had no reason to challenge them. She had spent her life either preparing to be, or being, an officer. Her professional and personal life was one and the same.
"I’m not so sure about the butch thing, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have any particular "type" of anything," she said after a moment.
Marge snorted as she busied herself with her food. "Trust me on this, Sheriff - if you go in for the politically incorrect terminology, you are as butch as it gets. Don’t let it bother you."
Reese smiled. "Well, whatever you call it, it comes naturally to me. So - this is just a friendly dinner then?"
"Yes."
"Fair enough."
"Since we’re being all revealing here," Marge continued, "how’d you end up in our little town?"
"I needed a job, and this was the right one for me," Reese remarked.
"So you didn’t come here looking for love?" Marge asked half-seriously.
Reese smiled a little ruefully. "Not precisely."
"And you didn’t leave anybody behind? No attachments?"
"No," Reese replied. "I don’t have any attachments."
Marge shook her head. "You are definitely something of an oddity around here. Most people come here to find someone, or to escape something."
"I’m not all that different. It’s just not what you’re thinking."
"And I don’t suppose you’re going to fill me in?" Marge prodded gently.
Just as gently, Reese replied. "Not tonight."
They finished their dinner in easy conversation. When Marge saw Reese glance at her watch for the second time, she asked, "You have to be somewhere?"
"The clinic," Reese replied. "I’m supposed to stop by there and have some stitches removed. The doctor said she’d be there until ten."
"Don’t rush. She’s always there late. I live just down the road. She doesn’t seem to do much except work!
"It must get pretty busy, especially when you’re the only doctor in town," Reese commented, remembering Victoria King’s resolute determination to make that dangerous journey over the rocks to aid the injured man. Her dedication was clear, and admirable.
"Sure it’s tough, especially if you use it as an excuse to avoid a social life! Don’t you think there are plenty of doctors who would just love to live up here during the season and work for her?"
Reese regarded her silently. She felt a strong desire to come to Victoria’s defense, and a strange surge of anger at Marge’s criticism. Both responses confused her.
Marge didn’t miss Reese’s sudden withdrawal. "Hey, I like her," she said seriously. "I always have. She’s a great friend to the people of this town, and there are more than a few who would like to know her better, if she’d let them." She shrugged as she reached for their check. "She doesn’t seem to trust anyone to get too close, and that’s a damn shame."
"I’m sure she has her reasons," was all Reese said.
**********
Randy was on his way out the front door when Reese walked up.
"All through?" she asked the receptionist.
"I am," he said petulantly. "The last patients are in rooms, but at the rate she’s going it could take her another hour. She can barely walk, and it serves her right - traipsing out on that jetty like some macho superhero! I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t on crutches tomorrow! And it wouldn’t be the first time either!!"
His obvious distress belied the criticism in his voice. He was clearly worried about Tory, and Reese immediately liked him. He continued to fuss while he unlocked the door for Reese.
"Do you think she’d let me cancel patients just because she needs to be in bed? Of course not!" He held the door open as he spoke. "You might as well go back to her office and wait. It’s more comfortable there, and she’ll find you when she’s finished. She insisted that I go home on time! Could do without me, she said. Ha! Wait until she sees that appointment book - good luck! Then we’ll see who doesn’t need me!"
Reese had to smile at the slender, attractive young man’s tirade, but her thoughts were of the woman who had made a selfless gesture despite the cost. She was suddenly very anxious to see her.
"I’ll go on back. Thank you."
Reese settled into the chair before Victoria’s desk, rested her hat on her knee, and let her eyes wander over the photos of the previous Olympian. Eventually she heard the approach of slow footsteps, and turned to greet the doctor. Victoria looked pale and drawn, but her eyes held a smile.
"Have you been waiting long?" Tory inquired as she eased herself into the leather chair behind her desk. She tried to hide a grimace as another spasm clamped onto her calf, forcing her to gasp.
"Not very," Reese said quietly. "Is there anything I can do?" Victoria’s pain was obvious, and watching her struggle with it made Reese feel helpless and uneasy.
Tory looked at her in surprise. "God, you get to the point, don’t you? Why is it that my "handicap" doesn’t seem to put you off the way that it does most people?" She was too tired and in too much pain to hide her bitterness.
"You have an injury, Doctor. "Handicapped" is not a word I would use to describe you," Reese remarked as she moved boldly around the side of Victoria’s desk. "Now, what needs to be done here?" she finished softly.
"I need to get this damn brace off," Tory said through gritted teeth, "but if I do I’m not going to be able to get to my car."
"We’ll worry about that later," Reese said as she knelt down. She pushed up the leg of Tory’s jeans and studied the hinged metal device that extended from just below her knee to the arch of her foot. Her face was expressionless as she took in the criss-crossing of surgical scars and skin grafts over the damaged atrophied muscles. "Doesn’t look too complicated," she said evenly. "May I?"
Reese’s actions had taken Tory completely by surprise. She stared into the deep blue eyes that searched her face, suddenly terrified that she might cry. She was so used to fighting the endless discomfort and awkwardness alone, that the straightforward offer of help almost overwhelmed her.
"Please," she whispered, her throat tight.
Reese released the velcro bindings and gently eased the brace off. Victoria’s leg was swollen from the calf down, and her ankle was beginning to discolor. Tory gasped with pain as Reese softly massaged the injured tissues, bringing a sudden rush of blood to the area.
"I’m sorry," Reese murmured. "We need to do something about this swelling. Ice?"
"There’s a cold pack above the sink in the treatment room," Tory managed, struggling with the physical pain and the unexpected emotional turmoil Reese had unwittingly provoked.
Reese retrieved the pack, snapped it open, and wrapped it around Victoria’s ankle with an ace bandage she had found. "I think that’s the best I can do," she said apologetically.
"It’s more than enough," Tory replied gratefully once she caught her breath. "Were you a medic in the Marines?"
Reese laughed as she leaned against the edge of Tory’s desk. "Military police - before law school. We had our share of minor injury calls."
"Just give me a minute, then I’ll see if I can get the damn thing back on again."
"Why?"
Tory regarded Reese solemnly. Reese was so damn easy to talk to, and the scary part was that she wanted to. She wanted to admit just once that she couldn’t take it any more, that she was just too damned tired. Realizing just how much she wanted to trust those blue eyes holding her own so steadily made her wary. Something this compelling could get out of hand.
"I can’t walk that far without it," Tory replied, trying to laugh.
"How much do you weigh?" Reese asked.
Tory did laugh at that. "My god! Have you no sense at all? Don’t you know that’s a dangerous question to ask of a woman who’s not entirely in control of her faculties?"
Reese buried her hands in her pockets, and answered with a straight face, "I must have missed that in basic training."
Tory could tell by the determined glint in Reese’s eyes that this would be an up-hill battle. Graciously she acquiesced. "A hundred and thirty pounds."
Reese nodded. "Not a problem. Grab your brace." As she spoke she slipped one arm behind Tory’s shoulders and the other under her knees. "Hold on," Reese said as she straightened, cradling Tory securely against her chest. Tory’s arms came around her neck.
"Okay?" Reese asked.
For the first time all day, Tory wasn’t aware of the pain in her leg. What she was aware of was even more disconcerting. A cascade of sensations assaulted her - hard muscles, a slow steady heartbeat, the light sweet smell of perspiration. Reese was an intoxicating combination of tenderness and strength, and Tory’s response was automatic. She flushed at the surge of arousal, and drew a shaky breath, hoping that the woman who held her could not feel her tremble.
"Yes, I’m fine," she murmured, allowing herself the luxury of resting her head against Reese’s shoulder.
Reese made her way easily to her patrol car and settled Tory into the front seat. "Where to?" she asked as she started the engine.
"Straight out six A toward Truro. I’m just a mile outside town."
Within minutes Reese pulled into the drive of a single family home that overlooked the expanse of Provincetown harbor. As she stepped from the car a dark shape came hurtling through the night toward her.
"Whoa!" she cried as a huge dog planted its front feet on her chest.
"Jed! Get down!" Tory yelled as she tried to extricate herself from the car. At the sound of her voice the dog immediately dropped to the ground and raced to her.
"Is it safe to come around?" Reese called as she eased toward the passenger side of her vehicle.
"He’s perfectly safe," Tory called as she thumped the dog’s massive chest in greeting. "He’s just excitable."
"What is it?" Reese asked as she leaned down and lifted Tory from the seat.
"Mastiff. That’s Jedi - Jed for short."
"That must make you Princess Leia then," Reese remarked as she walked up the sidewalk toward the wide deck that encompassed the rear of the house.
"What makes you think I’m not Luke Skywalker?"
"Just a hunch."
Tory laughed and settled herself more comfortably within the circle of Reese’s arms. Reese held her while Tory slipped her key into the door, suddenly conscious of the soft swell of Tory’s breasts pressed against her chest, and the subtle fragrance of her perfume. In the dim light of the moon, Tory’s face in profile was timelessly beautiful. From out of nowhere, Reese began to tremble, and an unfamiliar warmth suffused her.
"Let me down," Tory said firmly, "you’re shaking."
Reese lowered her gently, keeping one arm around her waist for support.
"I guess I’m not in as good shape as I thought," Reese said a little uncertainly. She couldn’t remember feeling this light-headed after a twenty mile forced march in full packs. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but she was acutely embarrassed.
"Nonsense," Tory replied as she pushed the door open. "You’re in superb shape, but enough is enough." She reached for the light switch by the door, illuminating a large living room facing the water.
"Just steer me over there," she said, indicating a large sectional sofa fronting the wall of windows and sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. "Half the time I fall asleep down here anyway. One more night on the couch won’t kill me."
"More ice?" Reese asked as Tory propped her leg up on several pillows.
"Not just yet. But I’d love a drink, and you’ve certainly earned one. If you wouldn’t mind pouring me a scotch, I’d be grateful forever."
Reese brought her the drink, and a light beer for herself. "Gratitude is not necessary. You more than deserve this after the day you’ve had."
Reese sat on the sofa, stretching her legs out to accommodate Jed, who had pushed himself against the entire length of the front of the couch. When he raised his massive head and rested it on her thigh, she began to stroke him absently. She still felt oddly agitated.
"Brianna Parker came by the clinic today," Tory remarked. "She said that you insisted I clear her before she could start training with you."
"Is she okay?" Reese asked, grateful for something to take her mind off her own sense of disquiet.
"She’s fine. It’s a good thing you’re doing for that girl," Tory added, watching Reese closely. The sheriff seemed distracted, and even more remote than usual.
Reese turned to her in surprise. "How so?"
Tory sighed. "I guess you probably know that Brianna’s mother died three years ago. That’s awful enough at any age, but it’s especially hard for a teenager. I gather from what Nelson’s said that Bri has been getting a little wild. It sounds like working with you may be just what she needs."
"I hope it helps," Reese said at length. "I know what it’s like when your whole world seems to change overnight. It can be a dangerous time."
"Was it for you?" Tory asked softly, wanting a glimpse of what lay beneath this formidable woman’s steely exterior.
Reese gazed out over the moonlit water, thinking of herself at that age. She remembered how she felt when her mother left - the uncertainty and the anger. Her father loved her, and he taught her the things he knew - he taught her about responsibility, and discipline, and honor. He taught her the way he had been taught, the Marine way. He expected the best from her, and he got it. In return he provided her with a life that was orderly, dependable, and predictable.
"It might have turned out differently for me," she mused half to herself. "My parents divorced when I was fourteen. My father is career Marine, and he raised me to follow in his footsteps. I’ve spent my entire life in the Marines, one way or the other. It’s true what they say- it’s made me what I am, but those first few years until I was old enough for ROTC and college were hard."
"I imagine all of it was hard," Tory ventured, beginning to understand why Reese seemed so controlled. The Marine Corp undoubtedly produced fine soldiers, but at what cost?
"Don’t misunderstand. I loved the Marines, I still do. I’m still in the reserves. But when I was Bri’s age it wasn’t easy. Sometimes it got pretty lonely -" Reese stopped, suddenly self-conscious. She never talked about herself, and she had no idea why she was now.
"What about your mother?" Tory probed gently.
Reese unconsciously squared her shoulders in that military gesture that was becoming familiar to Tory as she replied flatly, "She wasn’t in the picture."
"I’m sorry," Tory said, "I’m prying."
Reese smiled, that fleeting breathtaking smile. "I didn’t notice."
Tory laughed. "I doubt there’s anything that escapes your notice!" Suddenly serious, Tory added, "You’ve been more help than I can say today, Reese. I’m not sure how I would have managed without you - this morning on the jetty, or tonight." Even though she meant every word, she didn’t want to think too hard about why she was admitting her need now, when she had refused to for so long. She didn’t want to think too hard about how different Reese seemed than anyone she had ever met, or about how easy it had been to accept her help. She didn’t want to think about how deeply she had been touched by Reese’s calm, unwavering presence. "I - I just wanted to thank you -"
Reese shook her head, halting Tory’s words. "Doctor King-"
"Please! It’s Tory!"
"All right," Reese amended almost shyly, "Tory- it was an honor, and my pleasure. So please don’t thank me for something I was glad to do."
Tory looked into Reese’s intense, penetrating eyes and something visceral stirred in her. She caught her breath, moved by the simple honesty of Reese’s words. Her voice was thick with emotion as she replied, "It’s more than a job to you, isn’t it?"
Reese flushed, but she held Tory’s gaze. "You may not believe this, but I took an oath to serve and protect, and every day I’m glad I did."
"I do believe you. I’ve seen you in action," she said quietly. She thought that Reese had to be the most straightforward person she had ever met, and at the same time the most complicated.
"Good," Reese said as she stood. "Then you won’t object to me coming by to take you to the clinic tomorrow. Remember, you don’t have a car."
"You don’t leave much room for argument, do you?" Tory remarked ruefully, realizing that Reese had once again made help impossible to refuse.
"That is a skill I learned in officer’s training school!" Reese rejoined, her eyes laughing.
"Then I accept, Sheriff," Tory teased lightly.
Tory watched her as she strode gracefully to
the door, smiling at the quick salute Reese tossed her as she left. She settled
back against the couch, blaming the effects of the scotch for the sudden rush
of heat that stole through her.
Chapter Eight
"It’s open," Tory called, glancing at the clock. She smiled when she
saw it was exactly six a.m.
Reese entered, carrying two paper cups of espresso.
"Thought you might need this," she said, sliding onto one of the black and chrome stools in front of the kitchen bar counter. "It’s a double."
"It’s a start," Tory groaned, leaning on her cane as she reached with her free hand for the coffee.
"I could make some more," Reese suggested, pointing to an elaborate espresso machine nearby.
"Sit," Tory commanded. "I’m up already, and I’ll be functional in just a minute." She sipped the rich brew, noting that Reese looked fresh in her crisply pressed uniform shirt and pants. "I suppose you’ve already run ten miles or something else equally obnoxious."
"Haven’t you noticed it’s raining outside?" Reese asked mildly. "I only ran five."
Tory stared at her, beginning to smile when she caught the barest flicker of a grin on Reese’s handsome face. "I could learn to hate you," she replied.
Reese laughed. "God, I hope not!" She paused, then asked, "How’s the leg?"
Tory looked away for a second, then met Reese’s questioning gaze. "Hurt’s like hell, but it’s been worse."
"I guess staying home is not an option?"
"You do like to live dangerously, don’t you?" Tory asked softly, amazed that Reese’s concern did not rankle her the way it did coming from others. For some reason Reese’s attention did not make her feel less than whole.
"It wouldn’t do for you to be out of commission," Reese said seriously. "The town needs you too much. So if it’s a question of one day off to prevent a bigger problem, I’ll risk suggesting it."
"Thanks," Tory said. "But I’m used to these episodes, and I can tell if there’s a real problem."
"Good enough," Reese said.
"It’s really just my ankle. The nerve is severed, so I can’t flex it. It’s either the brace or an ankle fusion."
"Wouldn’t the fusion be less painful?" Reese ventured carefully, appreciating that this was a sensitive issue for the independent physician.
"Probably," Tory admitted. "But I’d also be less mobile. I’m still good in the water without the brace, and I can work out with an air cast if I’m careful. Besides, I’ve always hoped-" Her voice trailed off as she looked away.
"Hoped what?" Reese urged gently.
"That I’d row again. I’d never be able to get into the cleats if my ankle were fused."
"How long has it been since you’ve rowed?" Reese asked quietly.
"Since the day of the accident - almost ten years. I guess it’s pretty ridiculous to keep hoping, isn’t it?"
Reese shrugged. "If it’s something you want that much, it makes sense not to close any doors. You know how much pain you can take - and if it’s worth it."
Tory looked at her gratefully. "Thanks. My friends and family might not agree with you. They think I should have let them do it when I was in the hospital the first time."
"The first time?"
Again Tory dropped her gaze. "There were problems - infection, some muscle necrosis. It took the surgeons a few tries to get it cleared up."
Reese regarded her steadily, revealing none of her churning disquiet. Her training had taught her not to personalize pain, nor to be distracted by another soldiers’ injury, because even a split seconds’ loss of focus could mean the loss of more lives. But the knowledge of Tory’s suffering penetrated that shield and Reese had to consciously dispel the vision of Tory in a hospital bed, fighting to keep her leg. Tory would not have wanted her pity then, or her sympathy now.
"Does the kayaking help?"
"Some - I’m on the water, the rhythm is good. The damn shell is so heavy, and of course, my body is restrained. It’s nothing like the feeling of being alone in a scull," she cried, her frustration evident.
Reese remembered the needle thin sculls from the pictures in Tory’s office, no more than a sliver between the rowers and the water. She also remembered the long, clean line of Tory’s legs as she pulled through her stroke. "I’m sorry," she said softly.
Tory laid her hand on Reese’s forearm, squeezing gently. "Hey, it’s okay - really. I only get morose when the damn thing’s acting up. Believe me, most days I’m just glad it’s there. But thanks for not saying I’m being a fool."
"You said you still work out?" Reese asked.
"Yes, Hapkido, remember?"
"I don’t usually forget when someone humiliates me!"
"I can’t imagine anyone getting the best of you!" Tory laughed. "As you saw, I do mostly weapons work, with the cane - which fortunately for me is a traditional Asian weapon."
At Reese’s nod of understanding, she continued, "With a light air cast I can stand long enough for self-defense drills, and mat work is not a problem. The only things I really can’t do anymore are forms. The katas are too much of a strain."
"So, would you be willing to teach me the cane?" Reese asked.
"If you’d be willing to work on the mat with me," Tory countered immediately.
Reese smiled happily. "Absolutely. I haven’t had a training partner in a long time. Just let me know when your leg is better."
"Give me a week," Tory replied just as enthusiastically. "Now we’d better get out of here before we’re both late for work!"
Reese looked at the clock over the stove, amazed to find it was close to seven. She couldn’t remember the last time she had lost track of the time.
Randy was just unlocking the front door when Reese pulled into the lot. He watched with raised eyebrows as Reese walked Tory to the door.
"Well! Good morning," he crowed with exaggerated emphasis, looking pointedly from Tory to Reese.
"Sheriff Conlon needs her stitches out, Randy, if you could manage to let us in?" Tory said, frowning at his innuendo.
"Oh, of course, Doctor! Right away Doctor!" he continued with a grin, his tone lightly mocking.
"Cut it out, Randy," Tory muttered as she passed him.
He managed to follow them down the hall on the pretense of opening the exam room doors. He leaned against the door of the treatment room while Tory removed the sutures from Reese’s brow.
"Just keep it clean. It should be fine," she said as Reese stood to leave.
"Sure thing. Thanks, Doctor," Reese said. She nodded to Randy as she brushed past him into the hall.
Randy craned his neck to follow her progress toward the door.
"Oh my, what a butch thing she is!" he announced once she had gone.
"Randy!" Tory said in exasperation.
"Oh, come on now, Doctor King, what would you call her?"
Tory grinned at him. "An incredibly stunning butch thing!"
Randy’s eyes widened in surprise. He couldn’t ever remember his solitary employer commenting on a woman before. He had given up nagging her to get a date when he saw the pain in her eyes whenever he teased her about it.
"And just what was Sheriff Heartthrob doing driving you to work?" he persisted, curious and hopeful that someone had finally managed to capture Tory’s attention.
Tory looked suddenly serious. "She drove me home last night - I couldn’t."
"Damn it Tory! I would have stayed! Why didn’t you ask?"
She sighed. "I know. I’m just not used to asking."
"Then how come you asked her?"
"I didn’t. She didn’t give me any choice."
Good for her! Randy thought, but had the good sense not to say. It was about time someone refused to be intimidated by Victoria King’s staunch reserve. Then again, remembering the commanding air of the woman who just left, he didn’t imagine anyone intimidated her.
"So-o-o..?" he questioned suggestively.
"So nothing!" she replied curtly. "She would have done the same for anyone. That’s just the way she is."
Right, Randy muttered as he watched Tory move stiffly away down the hall.
**********
Reese entered the office whistling, much to Nelson Parker’s amazement.
"Do you mind telling me what’s so wonderful about the first day of Memorial Day weekend?" he asked grumpily.
"Excuse me?" Reese asked, perplexed.
"Never mind!" he snapped. "You’re on seven to seven today, okay?"
"Sure," Reese responded. "No problem."
"And you’ve got traffic detail at the pier from one to five."
"Yep."
He looked at her closely—she was relaxed, smiling faintly, and, if he didn’t know better, not totally present. In the two months he had known her, he had never seen her the slightest bit distracted. His curiosity was more than piqued.
"So what gives, Conlon?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused. "Not a thing." She glanced at him as if he were acting strangely.
"Never mind," he muttered. "Anything new on the clinic break-in?"
Reese shook her head. "No. The things that were missing are impossible to trace. Unless we’re lucky, we’ll never know. There’s too much traffic in and out of there to making finger printing valuable. Not much to do but keep an eye on the place."
"Well, you’d better swing by there a couple of times a shift for the next few weeks. I hope that will discourage any repeat break-ins By the way, nice job out on the jetty yesterday. I heard the guy was a mess."
"I didn’t do much. If Tory hadn’t been there, I think the guy would have bled to death before the EMTs got him out. She deserves the credit."
"Chances are you’ll have plenty of work for the doc before this summer’s over. We spend half our time dealing with accidents, overdoses, and minor brawls - and all of them end up at her place."
"That’s a heavy load for one doctor," Reese commented, remembering how exhausted Tory had seemed the night before.
"Don’t remember her ever taking a vacation in the three years she’s been here," Parker noted.
Something about discussing Victoria made Reese uncomfortable-she had no idea why. She shook off the sudden urge to drive by the clinic. Impatiently, she grabbed her keys.
"I’m going out for a tour before I start the traffic detail," she announced. Maybe that would dispel the odd anxiety.
"Sure," the Sheriff called to her departing back.
Reese traveled out Route six to Truro, then circled back to town along 6A, purposefully avoiding the turn onto Bradford that would take her past the clinic. She stopped instead across the street from her mother’s gallery. She sat with the engine idling for a few moments, wondering why she had come. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel entirely sure of herself. Impulses were not something she had ever been prey to, and yet here she was. She cut the engine and climbed from the car before she had any more time to think.
"Reese!" her mother exclaimed when she opened the door.
"Bad time?" Reese asked uncertainly.
"Not at all. It’s wonderful to see you. Come on back and have some coffee."
"Sure," Reese replied, following the other woman through the house to the kitchen.
"How are you?" her mother inquired.
"I’m fine. I was just passing by, and-" Reese faltered, not able to explain.
"Reese," Kate said softly, "you don’t need a reason to come by. Being able to see you is a miracle."
Reese looked away, then faced her mother directly. "It was part of the agreement, wasn’t it? That you not see me?"
Her mother’s distress was palpable. "Yes. I wouldn’t have agreed, but twenty years ago, a lesbian mother had no rights at all. And I couldn’t fight it. Your father had pictures."
Reese grew very still. "He had you followed?"
"Yes. We weren’t very discreet. Jean and I were young and terribly innocent. It didn’t occur to either of us that loving each other could be wrong. I’m so sorry, Reese! I was selfish, I know, but I was so unhappy for so long! Not with you! You were the best part of my life! And then I met Jean, and I felt alive for the first time!" Her eyes were wet with tears as she looked at the woman her daughter had become. "I am so terribly sorry!"
Reese shook her head. "You chose life. If you had stayed, I can only imagine it would have been worse for all of us eventually. I don’t blame you—if I ever felt what you felt for Jean, I’d do the same."
Kate studied the tightly controlled, perfectly contained features of her daughter’s face and asked boldly, "And have you ever? Felt that way for someone?"
"No." Reese looked past her mother to the smooth water of the harbor, looking inward to a life she never examined. "I’m like him, you know. I was happy in the military, and I’m happy now. I love the order, and the duty, and the responsibility. I don’t need anything else."
"You have your father’s best qualities, Reese. I can see that. You remind me of why I married him - seeing you in that uniform - not a wrinkle, not a fold out of place. It reminds me that he represented something decent and honest and admirable. Or so I thought. Your father never made room in his life for love, Reese. I hope that won’t be true for you. If it finds you, don’t turn your back."
Reese smiled ruefully. "I’m not sure I would recognize it."
Her mother laughed, squeezing Reese’s hand gently. "Trust me - you’ll know."
**********
Reese spent the next four hours directing slowly moving cars and hordes of weekend arrivals through the congested, narrow streets in the center of town. Tour buses crowded the pier, disgorging packs of mostly elderly people who milled about uncertainly, seemingly oblivious to the cars passing within inches of them. Lesbian and gay couples of all ages and description poured into town for the first gathering of the summer season. Commercial Street was wall to wall pedestrians, interspersed with vehicles attempting to navigate around them. Reese greeted Paul Smith, her relief, with a grin.
"Welcome to bedlam, but I guess you expected it!"
Paul looked up and down the street, shaking his head. "Yep, looks about like I thought. Once the sun goes down, most of the out-of-towners will leave. Then all we’ll have are the gays - until two or so."
He looked harried, and Reese remembered that his young wife was pregnant. "When’s your baby due?"
"Any second. Cheryl’s so big now she can hardly sleep, and she’s getting really spooked about being home alone at night," he said worriedly.
Reese looked at her watch, then said, "Listen - how about I relieve you at midnight? I can duck home now and sleep for a while."
He looked at her hopefully. "You’d do that?"
"Sure - it’s only for a few days. Just let the Sheriff know, okay? I’ll be home if you need me."
She waved away his attempts to thank her, walking off to retrieve her cruiser. The enthusiasm and holiday spirit of the people surrounding her was contagious, and she doubted that she’d be able to sleep much. She might as well work. Besides, she was anxious to see the Provincetown that only came to life at night.
At ten minutes to midnight, Reese pulled her squad car into the small lot behind city hall, across the street from the Pilgrim’s Monument, and one short block from the center of town. She found Paul and sent him home. Standing with her back to the pier, she looked up and down Commercial Street. It was nearly as crowded as it had been at noon, but the entire atmosphere had changed. There was a Mardi Gras energy in the air, as same sex couples of all ages, styles, and garb strolled the sidewalks and spilled out into the street. Men in impossibly revealing shorts, leathers, and spandex passed singly or in groups, openly appraising each other. Women, mostly in couples, and occasional knots of youths were very much a presence as well. They held hands or draped their arms about each other, delighting in their visibility. Reese had never seen so many gay people in one place before. It was clear that Provincetown was every inch the mecca it claimed to be.
She started west along Commercial, toward the Coast Guard station that marked the end of the most populated walk in Provincetown. For the most part, the crowds were congenial and controlled, parting like the sea for the bicyclists and rollerbladers who dared navigate the packed one way street. Reese took her time, glancing in the shops she passed, most of which were still open and would remain open eighteen hours a day until after Labor Day. The merchants of Provincetown had a very short season, and worked nonstop during the three months of summer. The restaurants and many bed-and-breakfasts were also dependent on a heavy tourist trade during the summer migration of gays and lesbians in order to survive the near desolation of the empty winter months.
Reese walked down to the entrance to the Provincetown Gym and stuck her head inside. Marge was behind the counter, piling tee shirts and sweats onto the shelves behind her. Marge smiled a greeting. "Hey, handsome! I thought this was Paulie’s shift!"
"It is, but he’s home with his wife, waiting on the baby. I’m filling in for a few days."
"Ain’t it beautiful out there?" Marge remarked with a grin.
"Everything I’ve been told is true. It’s changed overnight," Reese agreed.
"And it isn’t even busy yet!"
It was hard not to catch the enthusiasm that pervaded the small fishing village. Reese nodded, knowing that the hardest three months of her year were in front of her, and not minding a bit. This was the reason she was here - to make sure that the town and its people were safe and prosperous through another cycle.
"I’ve got to get going. I just wanted to say ‘Hi.’"
Marge waved her on, saying, "How about dinner again soon?"
"Sure," Reese agreed. "How does September sound?"
"Oh, come now, Sheriff," Marge teased, "you’ve got to find some time to enjoy the goings on around here. I’ll take you to the tea dance!"
"Deal," Reese acquiesced, "as soon as I get a day off."
"It’s a date!"
Reese raised one eyebrow. "Oh really?"
Marge laughed, "Get out of here. Go make our streets safe for the young’uns!"
Reese smiled to herself as she rejoined the throngs in front of Spiritus Pizza, the central gathering place for the dozens of men and women who sat on the curb, occupied the benches, or leaned against the light poles to watch the spectacle of life passing by. There wasn’t much in the way of public drunkenness, or obvious drug use. Generally someone in the gathering managed to keep the heavy partyers under control or off the streets. Reese was glad of that. She didn’t want to spend her shift hassling people over fairly harmless substance use, but she’d have to if it became too publicly blatant. She was paid to enforce the law, and she would, but she reserved the right to use her own judgement as to what constituted a real violation.
She glanced down the alley next to Spiritus and noticed movement in the shadows at the far end. It was dark enough that she pulled out her flashlight, playing over the ground ahead. Two people, wrapped in an embrace, pulled apart as she approached. Her light flickered over the face of a pretty blond teenager. The girl looked like any of the leather-clad youth who crowded the streets. She had the requisite multiple piercings along the edge of her ears, a small silver ring through the rim of her left nostril, and a tattoo showing along the inner aspect of her left breast. The lace up vest she wore with nothing under it was still open to the waist from what no doubt had been an interrupted caress. A typical teenage rendezvous, except this girl was holding tight to Brianna Parker’s hand, trying to look defiant. Brianna stepped forward, her shoulders braced, obscuring the girl from Reese’s view.
Reese spoke before Brianna could. "It’s not safe down these alleys. You two head on back to the street."
Neither of them said a word as they sidled past
her, hurrying toward the end of the alley. Reese took her time, giving them the
opportunity to disappear into the crowd. She glanced at her watch. It was
one-twenty in the morning. She was willing to bet that Nelson Parker did not
know that his seventeen -year-old daughter was out on the streets, or what she
was doing there. She was glad it wasn’t her daughter. She was positive she
would make a mess of handling what didn’t have to be a problem. As she walked
east back to city hall, she thought about herself at seventeen. She had never
had the desire to sneak out to be with anyone, male or female, and for the
first time in her life, she wondered why not.
Chapter Nine
Reese pulled up the short driveway to the rear of her house at six-fifteen a.m.
The night had passed uneventfully. By two-thirty the streets of Provincetown
had been deserted. The bars had closed at one, and for the next hour the street
in front of Spiritus Pizza was a mob scene. Predominantly men, the crowd
swelled as those who had yet to find partners for the night cruised each other.
There were also a fair number of men and women who just wanted to partake
vicariously of the sexual energy that literally filled the air. The party-like
atmosphere would be sustained for the next twelve weeks, as new vacationers and
week-end visitors flooded into town, carrying the excitement of being openly
gay and unafraid, perhaps for the only time all year, with them. Periodically
Reese walked down one of the narrow alleys between the crowded establishments
to the harbor beach, checking that no one decided to sleep off too much alcohol
on the sand. High tide was at five-forty, and by then the waves, still vigorous
even in the secluded harbor, would be up to the pilings of many of the
buildings. Already the decks behind the Pied and the Boatslip, two of the most
popular lesbian and gay bars, were surrounded by water. Reese didn’t intend to
have any drownings on her watch. She knew that the shadowed areas under the
piers were favorite spots for quick sexual encounters, but she wasn’t
interested in busting two adults for a fast grope in the dark. She was on the
lookout, however, for groups of teenagers hanging out on the beach. Nelson
Parker had warned her that drug use, and distribution, was becoming more of a
problem with the youth of the small community, and that many of the suppliers
seemed to be teenagers from neighboring townships on the Cape.
Reese hated drugs, and especially those who provided it. Too often, the kids who tried it were simply acting out of the normal rebellious, unfocused discontent that seemed inherent in the nebulous world between childhood and adulthood. Unfortunately, they became trapped by the very real physical and psychological seductiveness of the drugs, and the drug culture, without meaning to. That they were victims, she had no doubt, and the perpetrators of the crime were the suppliers, not the addicts. She was determined that Provincetown would become a very unpopular place to commit that particular crime.
Reese pulled to a stop, cut the engine, and sat for a moment looking at the person huddled on her back steps. Brianna Parker stared back at her, her gaze steady and defiant.
"You’re early," Reese commented as she approached. "Class doesn’t start for forty-five minutes." Reese could tell by the look of surprise on Brianna’s face, a flicker of expression quickly masked, that Brianna had not been thinking of their seven o’clock appointment for her first jujitsu class. "Come in the kitchen and wait while I shower and change," Reese said as she passed the teenager, fitting her key into the back door as she spoke.
"If you haven’t eaten, there’s bread for toast and juice in the fridge," Reese said as she tossed her keys on the table. She continued through to her bedroom, leaving the youth to sort things out for herself. When she returned in a clean white tee shirt and crisply ironed gi pants, she was pleased to smell coffee brewing. There was a plate of toast sitting in the middle of the breakfast bar. Reese gabbed a piece to munch on as she poured a cup of the welcome coffee.
"Thanks," she said as she leaned against the counter facing Brianna, who was perched on one of the high stools that flanked the counter dividing the cooking area from an eating area large enough to accommodate eight at the glass and chrome table.
Bri stared at the woman facing her, impressed by the taut muscles outlined under the tight tee shirt as well as her piercingly direct gaze. Reese presented an awesome figure. Bri took a deep breath.
"I came to talk to you about last night," she managed to say without a hint of the unsteadiness she felt.
"I thought you came to train," Reese responded.
"Maybe you won’t want me to now," Bri said, a slight quiver in her voice.
Reese raised an eyebrow, her eyes never leaving the troubled teen’s face. "How so?"
Bri shrugged. "I…I came to ask you not to tell my dad."
"I wasn’t planning to. But you should."
"Yeah, right," Bri snorted. "Like he wouldn’t kill me."
"He’s got to know sometime. Maybe you should give him a chance," Reese suggested mildly as she refilled her coffee cup. "I don’t know him real well, but he seems to be okay about the gay thing."
"Oh, sure - it’s okay with him, maybe, for some other kids - but not for me!"
Reese looked at Brianna, then nodded. "You’re right. There’s no way to tell how he’s going to react. But he for sure is going to be a lot better about it if he hears it first from you."
"I will tell him! Just not now!" Her fear broke through and her eyes filled with tears. "I’m only seventeen, he can keep me from seeing Caroline if he wants to. And if her father finds out, he’ll kill her!"
The girl’s anguish was palpable, and Reese suddenly realized how many additional terrors being gay added to the already tumultuous world of adolescence. It was something she didn’t know much about, and in a town like Provincetown, she needed to. She decided that, for the moment at least, she didn’t know enough to make a good decision, or to offer meaningful advice.
"I’m not going to say anything to your father, and if I decide it’s necessary at some point, I’ll tell you first. You can decide then whom he hears it from. In the meantime, I want your word that you and your girlfriend will stop meeting in dark alleys, or under the pier."
Bri tried to cover her surprise. How did she know about the pier?
"It’s dangerous, Brianna, especially for two women." Reese raised her hand against Brianna’s protest. "There’s no point in pretending that you and Caroline could stand up to a bunch of guys. That’s not sexist - that’s reality. One way a woman defeats a man is to use her brains - first to avoid the fight, and then if she must fight, to win the fight. Don’t stack the odds against yourself."
"There’s no where for us to go," Bri muttered, knowing the truth of Reese’s words. "That’s why I need to learn to fight."
Reese crossed the kitchen into the hallway beyond and returned with a folded bundle which she handed to Brianna.
"This is your uniform, your gi. It is only to be worn in the dojo, when we train. I leave for work at seven. If you are here at five forty-five, any morning, we will train for an hour. It will take time, and patience, and work, but I will teach you to defend yourself. Is that still what you want?"
Bri reached for the uniform. For her it represented her first steps toward self-determination. "Yes."
"Then let’s get started."
After Bri changed into the uniform Reese had provided her, she followed Reese through the breezeway to the garage. She copied Reese’s actions, bowing at the threshold before entering the thirty by forty-foot space, then removing her shoes and placing them beside the expanse of mat covered floor. She waited uncertainly as Reese crossed to the center of the mat and knelt, her hands resting gently on her thighs.
"Kneel and face me," Reese said. When Bri complied, Reese continued, "It is customary for the student to bow to the teacher, or sensei, at the beginning and end of each class. This is not to show obeisance, but to convey respect and to offer thanks for the opportunity to train. I will also bow to you, to honor your commitment to learn."
After the initial ceremony was completed, Reese stood and motioned Bri to her feet. "Basics first. You need to learn how to fall before I can teach you to throw; you need to learn how to block before I can teach you to punch and kick; you need to learn to move out of the line of attack before I can teach you how to counter an attack. These are the foundation for all that you will learn in the months, and hopefully the years, to come."
Bri nodded her understanding, eager to begin, and anxious to prove her serious desire to learn. In the hour that followed, Reese introduced her to the fundamentals of jujitsu, demonstrating forward and backward rolls, proper fighting stances, blocking drills, and the first joint locking technique. Bri was young, supple, and athletic. She made good progress. She concentrated on Reese’s every move, trying to imitate the way her teacher stood, turned, and rolled. It seemed impossible to her that she would ever be able to attain the grace and power that Reese manifest with every move, but she was determined to try.
"Grab my lapel," Reese instructed. As Bri complied, Reese said, "Kata dori," indicating the Japanese term for the attack. Reaching up, she trapped Bri’s hand against her shoulder, turned her wrist, and with both hands applied a wristlock. Bri gasped slightly at the pain in her stretched wrist, but held on wordlessly. As Reese leaned slowly toward her, the pressure in her wrist forced Brianna to her knees.
"Kata dori—nikkyo," Reese named the defensive maneuver.
When Bri stood, Reese grasped her jacket. "Now you."
Bri repeated the movements exactly as she remembered Reese had done, and was awestruck as Reese went to her knees before her.
"Very nice," Reese commented. Bri flushed with pride. "These techniques are powerful, and potentially devastating. They are only to be used here, in the dojo, or on the street when you have no other choice but to use them."
"Yes, sensei," Bri answered quietly.
Reese turned away with a smile. She sensed that Brianna would be a good student, and she had enjoyed the chance to teach her.
After they had bowed to each other, and Reese had knelt to carefully fold her hakama, the black skirt-like garment worn by experienced practitioners, Bri lingered uncertainly at the door. Reese looked over to her, a question in her eyes.
"Can I come tomorrow?" Bri asked softly.
"I am here every morning at quarter to six. If you come, we will train."
Bri smiled and bowed slightly, naturally. "Thank you."
Reese smiled and bowed back, watching as Bri walked away down the drive. She remembered how she had felt, when she first began nearly twenty years before, and how her life had been enriched by her training. She hoped she could provide that, in some small way, to this young woman. At the moment, however, there were more pressing things to consider. And more that she herself needed to learn.