“Mature,” she said. “Repeat after me: ma-ture.”
“I thought I was callow.”
“Mature and callow. Secret of your charm.”
“Top of all that, the crime problems out on the street are leaking in more and more. Nurses beaten and robbed... A couple of nights ago there was a murder in one of the parking lots. A doctor.”
“I know. I heard it on the radio. Didn’t know you were back working there or I would have freaked.”
“I was there the night it happened.”
Her fingers dug into my hand, then loosened. “Well, that’s reassuring... Just be careful, okay? As if my saying it makes a difference.”
“It does. I promise.”
She sighed and put her head on my shoulder. We sat there without talking.
“I’ll be careful,” I said. “I mean it. Old guys can’t afford to be reckless.”
“Okay,” she said. A moment later: “So that’s why you’re down. I thought it might be me.”
“You? Why?”
She shrugged. “The changes — everything that’s happened.”
“No way,” I said. “You’re the bright spot in my life.”
She moved closer and rested a hand on my chest. “What you said before — the hospital being gloomy? I’ve always thought of hospitals that way.”
“Western Peds was different, Rob. It used to be... vital. Everything meshing together like this wonderful organic machine.”
“I’m sure it was, Alex,” she said softly. “But when you get down to it, no matter how vital or caring a hospital is, it’s always going to be a place of death, isn’t it? Mention the word hospital to me and what comes to my mind is my dad. Lying there, all tubed and punctured and helpless. Mom screaming for the nurse every time he moaned, no one really caring... The fact that your place treats kids only makes it worse, as far as I’m concerned. ’Cause what’s worse than suffering kids? I never understood how you stayed there as long as you did.”
“You build up a shell,” I said. “Do your job, let in just enough emotion so you can be useful to your patients. It’s like that old toothpaste commercial. The invisible shield.”
“Maybe that’s what’s really bothering you, coming back after all these years, and your shield’s gone.”
“You’re probably right.” I sounded glum.
“Some shrink I am,” she said.
“No, no. It’s good talking about it.”
She snuggled up against me. “You’re sweet to say so, whether it’s true or not. And I’m glad you told me what’s on your mind. You never used to talk much about your work. The few times I tried, you changed the subject, so I could tell you weren’t comfortable with it and I never pushed. I know part of it was confidentiality, but I really wasn’t after gory details, Alex. I just wanted to know what you were going through so I could support you. I guess you were protecting me.”
“Maybe I was,” I said. “But to tell the truth, I never really knew you wanted to hear any of it.”
“Why’s that?”
“You always seemed more interested in — how can I say this — angles and planes.”
She gave a small laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. I never was much for touchy-feely. In fact, when we first met, the one thing that I wasn’t sure I liked about you was that you were a psychologist. Not that it stopped me from chasing you shamelessly, but it did surprise me — being attracted to a shrink. I didn’t know a thing about psychology, never even took a course in college. Probably because of Dad. He was always making comments about crazy psychiatrists, crooked doctors. Going on about how anyone who didn’t work with his hands couldn’t be trusted. But as I got to know you and saw how serious you were about what you did, I loosened up. Tried to learn — I even read some of your psych books. Did you know that?”
I shook my head.
She smiled. “At night, in the library. I used to sneak in when you were sleeping and I couldn’t. Schedules of Reinforcement. Cognitive Theory. Pretty strange stuff for a woodchopper like me.”
“I never knew,” I said, amazed.
She shrugged. “I was... embarrassed. I don’t really know why. Not that I was trying to be an expert or anything. Just wanted to be closer to you. I’m sure I didn’t send out a clear message... not sympathetic enough. I guess what I’m saying is, I hope we can continue this way. Letting each other in a little more.”
“Sure we can,” I said. “I never found you unsympathetic, just—”
“Preoccupied? Self-obsessed?”
She looked up at me with another chest-tightening smile. Big white upper incisors. The ones I liked to lick.
“Strongly focused,” I said. “You’re one a them artsy-fartsy creative types. Need intense concentration.”
“Strongly focused, huh?”
“Definitely.”
She laughed. “We’ve definitely got a thing for each other, Dr. Delaware. Probably chemical — pheromones or whatever.”
“That we do, that we do.”
She put her head on my chest. I stroked her hair and thought of her going into the library, reading my books.
“Can we try again?” I said. “Will you come back?”
She tensed hard as bone.
“Yes,” she said. “God, yes.”
She sat up, took my face in her hands and kissed it. Scrambled on me, straddling me, her arms down over my shoulders, gripping.
I ran my hands over her back, held her hips, raised myself to her. We fused once more, rocked and rolled together, silent and intent.
Afterward she lay back, panting. I was breathing hard, too, and it took a long time to wind down.
I rolled on my side and wrapped my arms around her. She pressed her belly up against mine, glued herself to me.
We stayed together for a long while. When she started to get restless, the way she always did, and began to pull away, I didn’t let her go.
16
She stayed the night and, as usual, was up early.
What wasn’t usual was her sticking around for another hour to drink coffee and read the paper. She sat next to me at the table, one hand on my knee, finishing the arts section as I skimmed the sports scores. Afterward, we went down to the pond and threw pellets to the fish. The heat had come on early for spring, overpowering the ocean currents, and the air smelled like summer vacation.
Saturday, but I felt like working.
She remained at my side. We touched a lot but the signs of her restlessness were beginning: flexing muscles, random glances, minuscule lags in the conversation that only a lover or a paranoiac would have noticed.
I said, “Got a busy one planned?”
“Just a few things to catch up on. How about you?”
“The same. I’m planning to hit the hospital sometime today.”
She nodded, put both arms around my waist, and we walked back up to the house, entwined. After she got her purse we descended to the carport.
A new truck was parked next to the Seville. Royal-blue Chevy pickup with a white racing stripe along the side. New car registration sticker on the windshield.
“Nice,” I said. “When’d you get it?”
“Yesterday. The Toyota developed serious engine problems and the estimates I got ranged from one to two thousand, so I thought I’d treat myself.”
I walked her to the truck.
She said, “Dad would’ve liked it. He was always a Chevy man — didn’t have much use for anything else. When I drove the other one I sometimes felt he was looking over my shoulder, scowling and telling me Iwo Jima stories.”
She got in, put her bag on the passenger seat, and stuck her face out the window for a kiss.