"Morning Chief," Reese said when she entered the station an hour later.

"What are you doing here?" Parker asked abruptly.

"Sir?" Reese questioned in surprise, halting halfway to her desk.

"Didn’t you just finish the night shift two hours ago?"

"Yes, sir, but I’m scheduled to work today -"

"Conlon," the Sheriff said with a sigh, "you’re a civilian now. I know I told you that you needed to be available twenty-four hours a day if I needed you, but I didn’t mean that you actually had to work twenty-four hours a day!"

"I know that, Chief—but I offered to take Smith’s shift without asking you, and I fully expected to work today. I’m fine—I slept last night between shifts. I’m used to sleeping at odd hours."

He looked at her in exasperation, but he wasn’t angry. She didn’t have any idea how unusual she was—any other officer, no matter how good they might be, would have jumped at the chance to be relieved of a shift. She seemed to actually want to take hers. He knew she didn’t have a family, and probably hadn’t had much of an opportunity to make friends, but at the rate she was going, she never would. That she seemed perfectly content with her solitary life, and her work, perplexed him. It would have been odd, even in a man, but in a young woman like her—he was at a loss to figure it.

"Okay, okay—but no more doubles unless I approve it." He caught the flicker of unease in her usually impenetrable gaze. "What?"

She faced him, squaring her shoulders, unconsciously coming to attention. "I told Smith I would take the last half of the night shift until his baby is born. It shouldn’t be more than a few days. I didn’t clear it with you because you told me that as Deputy Sheriff I had clearance to reorganize the shifts as needed."

"I was thinking more along the lines of an emergency when I told you that, Conlon —although having a baby certainly feels like an emergency at the time. With any luck his won’t be two weeks late like mine was."

He shrugged in defeat, leaning back in his swivel chair to gaze up at his tall second-in-command. "Go ahead, Reese—but take time off during the day if you need it. I’m depending on you to keep things organized around here this summer. We’ve got a small force, compared to the crowds we’ll have to deal with, and Smith probably won’t be worth a fart in a wind storm once his kid is born."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Reese replied.

"Speaking of kids—did mine show up at your place for her class this morning?"

"Yes, she did."

"On time?"

"She was early."

"Good. I thought she must either have been up and out early, or that she slept through it. She didn’t answer when I knocked on her door this morning."

Reese was pretty sure that Brianna hadn’t been home at all the night before, and she was uncomfortable keeping that from her boss, a man she was coming to like. On the other hand, Brianna wasn’t exactly a child, and Reese felt she owed her the chance to work things out with her father in her own way. At least for the time being she had given her word to keep silent. Besides, she was fairly certain she could keep an eye on Brianna’s nighttime excursions, now that she was aware of them. She said nothing.

"She do okay?" he asked gruffly. He felt like he knew less and less about his daughter with each passing day. They didn’t talk as they used to when she was small, when he seemed to have all the answers to her endless questions. Now he didn’t have a clue as to what motivated his only child, or what might make her happy. He couldn’t help but think that if his wife were still alive, she would know what to do with his headstrong offspring.

"She did very well."

"Yeah?" he said with a smile of pride. "Good."

"Who’s out on traffic?" Reese asked, not wanting to linger on the topic of Brianna. "Jeff?"

"Yeah. Things won’t get busy until eleven or so when the tour buses start arriving."

"I’m going to catch up on some paper work then, and go out around noon. That okay?"

"Sure. I have to be at the town meeting at ten. There’s likely to be some heat over the move to build that condo unit out at the end of six. The mayor wants me to talk about the manpower shortage, and more tourist influx. Same old story."

"Gladys coming in for the phones?"

"Eleven till five."

"Right," Reese said, pulling a stack of evaluation forms, payroll vouchers, and other employee paperwork in front of her. "I’ll catch up with you at town hall then."

Nelson Parker nodded and tossed a wave as he headed out the door.

Reese left several hours later, leaving her patrol car at Town Hall and walking west along Commercial to get lunch at the deli. She carried her sandwich to a small sitting area behind the Galleria, a collection of shops catering to the tastes of quick stop tourists who wanted a piece of "authentic" Cape Cod memorabilia. The deck in the rear was equipped with picnic tables and a great view of the harbor. Reese sat on the bench with her back to the table so she could watch the tide on its way out. The site and smell of the water settled her in some deep way that she had no words for. She only knew she would never live far from the ocean again.

She glanced east along the shore, trying to pick out her mother's studio. An image of her mother and father and her on one of their rare family outings to the beach came to her. It hadn't been too long before her mother left. She had never asked him about her mother, had never tried to find her—before now. She wondered why that had been. Her father and she were as close as a stern, reserved man and a solitary, private daughter could be. She respected him, even if she did not always agree with him, and he was proud of her accomplishments. He was deeply disappointed when she left active duty, even though she remained in the reserves, and they had not spoken since her move to Provincetown. He did not know she had contacted her mother; she wasn’t even sure he knew that his ex-wife lived here. Reese knew she needed to call him soon, but she wasn’t sure quite what to say.

That thought brought Brianna Parker to mind, and the rift that seemed to be growing between her and Nelson. Maybe part of it was the inherent differences between fathers and daughters, like men and women, but Reese knew that for Brianna it was much more than that—there was the complication of her sexuality to be dealt with. If she were to help Brianna in any real way, she needed to know more about that.

She stood, adjusted her cap against the sun’s glare, and moved quickly through the crowded aisle back to the street. A few minutes later she was at the gym.

Marge greeted her with a grin. "Hey you—anything new?"

"Nope," Reese replied, grinning back. "But I would like to talk to you. Can you get away sometime this afternoon?"

"How about now? Annie’s here—she can watch the place. Is this business or pleasure?"

"Let’s say it’s personal," Reese responded.

"Damn! You’re a tough woman to get information out of!"

Reese nodded toward the door. "Come on. Let’s take a walk."

They joined the crowds, and started toward the far west end of Commercial Street. There the narrow one-way road joined the confluence of six A and Route six at the jetty that led to Long Point. They didn’t say much until they had settled on the same bench where Reese and Victoria King had sat the previous day. Reese scanned the narrow, treacherous walkway, amazed once again that Tory had braved it.

"So, what’s up?" Marge asked, startling Reese for a second.

Reese pushed the image of Victoria King’s face from her mind.

"Did you know that you were a lesbian when you were a teenager?"

"I had a pretty good idea," Marge answered.

"How did you handle it?"

"I tried to kill myself," Marge said after a moment.

Reese stared at her intently, her chest tight, sorrow for Marge’s pain mixed with rage at a world that would drive a young person to such desperation. Her jaw clenched while she searched for words. "Can you tell me about it?" she asked at last.

Marge gazed out to the ocean, lost in memory.

"It wasn’t quite as dramatic as you might imagine. I grew up in a little town in the middle of nowhere. My parents were good, hardworking people without much imagination. I was a surprise, you might say. From the time I was small I preferred boys’ clothes, boys’ games, boys’ toys. All I wanted for my birthday was a six-shooter and a pair of jeans. My parents thought if they bought me dolls, I would forget about the guns. It didn’t work. By the time I was ten, I was in love with the rec director at the playground down the street. She was tough and taught the girls to play baseball, and if I got there before everyone else, she would play catch with me. I got there early every day for an entire summer. By twelve I had a special girlfriend I would gladly have died for. We went everywhere together, spent every night in one another’s houses, and slept over with each other frequently. We never touched—not in a sexual way, but there was no doubt that I loved her in the way boys and girls do. Our friendship lasted into highschool. One day, when we were sixteen, she told me she had been to bed with her boyfriend. Up until then, we had both dated, but no one had ever come between us. At that moment, my life changed forever. I knew then that she didn’t feel what I felt, and never would. She was no longer mine, in the deepest part of herself, the way she had been. It broke my heart, and there was no one to tell."

Marge paused, and Reese could see the pain of memory etched in the lines around her mouth.

"I’m sorry," Reese began, knowing there were no words to heal this particular sorrow.

Marge shook her head. "It was a long time ago, but it was probably the greatest pain of my life. I had no idea what was to become of me. It felt like everything beautiful in my life disappeared. My innocence certainly died. I couldn’t stand the pain, and I knew I felt the way I did because I was somehow very different from my girlfriends. I had no name for it, except "Queer," and I knew that was not a good thing to be. So, I started to drink, and managed to stay drunk through my last year in highschool. That’s what I meant when I said I tried to kill myself. It wasn’t pretty, but it was very nearly effective."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking off the vestiges of the past. Turning questioning eyes to Reese, she asked, "What made you ask?"

"A girl," Reese said. "A girl who can’t tell her father she’s in love with another girl. She acts pretty tough, but I get the feeling she’s scared. Mostly scared that someone will keep them apart, I think. I’m trying to understand what that’s like."

"Why?" Marge asked, not with censure, but with true curiosity. "What makes you care?"

Reese shrugged. "I have a feeling she’s not the only kid in town in this situation, Provincetown being what it is. She says she has no where to go to be with her girlfriend. I need to understand what life is like for these kids if I’m going to interact with them fairly."

"They’re not like other kids, Reese. They have to fight hard to survive. Most of the time the whole world tells them they shouldn’t be the way they are. They shouldn’t dress the way they do, they shouldn’t enjoy the things they do, and God knows, they shouldn’t love the way they do. The boys get beat up, or they act out sexually all over the place in unsafe ways, and more often than not, the girls who admit to themselves what they feel end up leaving school or underachieving. If they’re not being self-destructive with drugs or alcohol, they’re getting into trouble some other way. You’ll do them more harm than good if you try to prevent them from being who they are. That’s about all they have."

"I can’t let them have sex in dark alleys or under the pier!"

"Why not?"

"Because it’s not safe! If I can’t see them, I can’t protect them! If a group of redneck toughs stumbles across two boys, or two girls for that matter, making out in some dark corner, they could do them real damage!"

Marge nodded in reluctant agreement. "You’ve got a point, but there isn’t much you can do about it. They have to be together somewhere, and most likely it won’t be at parties, or dances, or at each other’s homes the way it is for straight kids. These kids feel like outcasts, and just about everything they see and hear reinforces that. They don’t have much alternative to the dunes or the piers if they want privacy."

"A coffee house?"

"Good idea, but you have to remember that although Provincetown looks like the center of the gay world, most of these lesbians and gay boys don’t live here. After the season ends, this town is about as prejudiced as any other. And the few gay kids aren’t going to want to make any public announcements, I wouldn’t imagine."

"But at least for the four or five months of the season they can blend in a little," Reese observed, beginning to see the dilemma Brianna and her girlfriend faced. "Isn’t there some place these kids can go?"

Marge nodded. "There’s a little hole in the wall out on Shank Painter Road that caters to the kids. The music is god-awful, and the food’s even worse, but at least they’re welcome there. A couple of old queens own the place. They don’t sell alcohol until ten o’clock at night, which is how they get around having under age kids in the bar."

"That’s just up the road from the station," Reese remarked, wondering if Nelson Parker gave the place any thought. He certainly hadn’t mentioned it to her as place she ought to keep an eye on.

"Yeah. I think they’re calling it The Lavender Lounge this year."

"Thanks, Marge. The information helps. I didn’t know about this place. I’ll have to drop by."

"Reese," Marge warned, "if you go in there looking like a cop, you’re going to scare some kids away. They don’t have much as it is."

"Point taken," Reese remarked. "I’ll go in disguise."

"Yeah, right. With that build, and that walk, she just about screams "cop." Marge chuckled. "Try to blend in. Better yet, take a date."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Hell no. Then you’d just be more obvious," she laughed. She grew thoughtful, then suggested, "Why don’t you ask the doc! She can interpret for you."

"I hardly think I need a guide," Reese said, uncomfortable with the conversation suddenly.

"I just meant, she’s a lesbian, and she’s good with the kids," Marge said, not missing her friend’s discomfort. "Hey, Reese! Did you ever have a crush on one of your girlfriends?"

Reese stood abruptly, her face expressionless. "I didn’t have any girlfriends. All my friends were Marines."

As Marge joined her for the walk back to town, she wondered about the strange life her new friend had lived.
 
 

"Reese—you there?"

Reese fingered the button on the microphone clipped to her shirt.

"I copy, Gladys."

"See the couple at the Lobster Pot—there’s a child missing."

"Ten-four," Reese said curtly as she began to hurry the few blocks to the restaurant. It was not unusual for children to wander away from their parents, but it was always cause for concern. Traffic was heavy and unpredictable, and with the miles of beachfront, the water posed a very real danger as well. She found anxious parents and a boy who looked to be about ten waiting for her.

"I’m Deputy Sheriff Conlon," she said. "What happened?"

"Our daughter," the father began, "she’s lost. We were just walking, looking in the windows. When we stopped for ice cream for the kids, Sandy was gone. We thought—"

"Bill - " his wife interrupted in a cautionary tone.

"It’s my fault," the young boy said tremulously. "I was supposed to be holding her hand, but then a couple of guys on rollerblades came between us and we got separated. She was still right beside me—" he choked back sobs and hung his head.

His mother pulled him close. "It’s all right, Greg, we’ll find her. It’s not your fault."

"How long ago did you last see her?" Reese asked gently, trying to keep them calm.

The husband and wife looked at each other in confusion. "Maybe a half hour?" he said uncertainly.

"And her full name?"

"Sandra Lynn James. She’s six."

"What is she wearing?" Reese continued, jotting notes on her small pad.

"Blue jeans, a yellow tee shirt and red sneakers," her mother informed Reese.

"Sheriff," the father said softly, "our daughter is handicapped."

Reese looked up quickly. "How?"

"She can’t communicate very well. She’s not very verbal; she’s easily distracted. She won’t react the way a child usually does if they’re lost."

"What will she do?"

He shrugged. "It’s hard to say. She might sit for hours watching something that catches her attention, or she may just wander."

"Can she swim?"

The mother stifled a cry and grasped her husband’s hand.

"No," he said desperately.

"Tell me what she likes—what does she like to do?"

For a moment both parents appeared confused.

"She likes the color red," her brother said into the silence, "and she loves birds, any kind of birds." He took a step toward Reese, his face determined "I want to go with you—to look for her."

Reese knelt down until her face was level with his. "Your parents are pretty upset. I need you to stay with them, to make sure they’re okay. And I need you to think of anything else about your sister that will help us find her. I’m going to give you a special number that you can call to reach me anytime. Okay?"

He searched her face, then nodded. "All right."

"Good," she said as she straightened. "Gladys," she signaled into her mike.

"Go ahead, Reese," a staticy voice replied.

"Wake up Smith, and have both him and Jeff Lyons call me. Inform the Chief, and the doctor, of what we have. If someone finds a little girl, they may take her to the clinic."

"Right away."

Reese turned to the family. "I want you to wait at the police station. I’ll have an officer take you there in a minute. I want to start a store-by-store search back along the way you came. Do you have a picture I can take?"

"Yes," the child’s mother replied, fumbling through her handbag for her wallet. "Here’s her school picture." She smoothed the picture tenderly with the tips of her fingers before handing it to Reese.

"Please find her, Sheriff."

Reese tucked the photo into her front shirt pocket. "Yes, ma’am, I will."

Reese radiod headquarters as she walked to the nearest shop. "Gladys—have Smith pick up this family and transport them to the station, and have Lyons start a car check at the town line."

"You don’t think someone took her?" Gladys gasped in alarm.

"It’s routine, Gladys," Reese replied grimly. "And call me with any information you get, okay?"

"Absolutely."

Reese spent the next two hours personally talking to every shopkeeper west of the place where the Joneses could last be sure their daughter had been with them. She scanned the crowds constantly, checking the benches and doorways along the route where the child might have stopped. There was no sign of the child. Finally, she phoned the station to speak with Nelson Parker.

"It’s no good, Chief—we need help. It’s going to be dark in an hour and a half, and it will be twice as hard to sort through the crowds. She’s either injured somewhere, someone has her, or she’s hiding somehow. Can you get volunteers, with a copy of her picture, to start a street-by-street search?"

"There’s a women’s health group that’s pretty organized. They can pull people together faster than I can at random. Where do you want them?"

"Have them meet me at the Town Hall in half an hour."

On her way there, she stopped to have photocopies of Sandy’s picture made. She was gratified to find fifteen people waiting for instructions when she arrived. As she handed out the child’s picture and organized the volunteers into pairs with specific assignments, she saw Victoria King and her office staff arrive. She motioned for the doctor to join her.

"Is there anything special I should tell them about the child?" Reese asked. "You spoke with her parents?"

"I did, and aside from what sounds like some form of autism, she’s perfectly healthy. My biggest concern is that it’s getting colder, and if she’s out all night, hypothermia is a real danger."

"I know. I want her found before dark." Reese turned back to the volunteers, directing them off to their search. "I’ve called the Coast Guard to begin scanning the shore, and the water. Where will you be if I need you?"

"Randy and Sally are both out searching, so I closed the office. I might as well wait there. You can page me. I’ve got the Jeep, so I’m mobile. Here’s my card—" she answered, scribbling her beeper number on the back. "Will you call me when you have something?" She searched Reese’s face, knowing that she must be feeling the stress. Her dark blue eyes were more intense than usual, if that was possible, and her voice a little brusque, but her face betrayed nothing of her emotions. God, was she always this controlled? Tory couldn’t help but wonder at what cost the stoic sheriff maintained her calm. As a physician she knew how high that price could be. "Reese?"

Reese was staring out over the harbor, her concentration barely penetrated by Tory’s voice. "Do you see that?" Reese asked softly.

Tory followed her line of sight, perplexed. "What? The kites?"

Reese nodded, her gaze captured by a particularly decorative red wide-winged kite. "She likes birds, her brother said—and the color red."

Tory stared at her, and then up at the sky. "Where would she go to get closer to them?"

"Toward the water—out onto one of the piers," Reese said grimly. "Will you call the sheriff and have him send one of the men out to check the piers at the west end? I’ll start closer to where she was last seen."

"Yes, of course."

Reese looked down at her, fixing her eyes on Victoria’s as she gently took her hand. She pressed Tory's fingers lightly. "Thanks."

Tory felt the brief touch to the bone. The sounds of the crowd receded as her gaze locked with Reese’s. She was riveted in place, scarcely drawing a breath. In that moment, she realized that Reese Conlon was the most intriguing woman she had ever met. And she was beautiful. "And I’m in big trouble," Tory thought. She swallowed, wondering if she would ever be able to look away. Thankfully, someone demanded Reese’s attention at that moment, and Reese released her hand, turning aside.

Tory took a shaky breath. Right, find a phone, Tory girl, you can do that. Just walk away from her. She has no idea what she’s doing—she hasn’t a clue to the effect she has on any lesbian with a heartbeat.

And Tory realized with a shock that that was probably true—Reese didn’t know. And if she didn’t know, what did that say about her? Tory considered what little she knew of Reese’s past. Some part of her had always assumed that Reese was a lesbian, because she seemed like one, and because Tory found her attractive. But perhaps she wasn’t—or perhaps she didn’t know that she was! Tory shook her head—either way, it lets me out. There’s no way I’m getting involved with someone who’s just coming out, or God forbid, straight!

She watched Reese stride down the sidewalk toward the center of town and willed her heart to stop pounding. It didn’t work, but she tried to tell herself it was only her worry over the little girl.

**********

It was close to eight o’clock when Tory tossed the last chart onto the cart beside her desk. It had been dark for two hours. She couldn’t imagine how the parents must feel, or how frightened the child must be. She hated it when children were sick. It was often impossible to explain to them what was happening, or why she had to do things that hurt them. Too often, she simply had to do what needed to be done, accepting that sometimes she caused pain in the name of healing. But it never got easier. She thought about Katherine, the woman she had loved for ten years—through med school and K.T’s surgical residency, until it had ended four years ago. Katherine had the surgeon’s wonderful, and irritating, ability to detach herself at will from emotions that threatened her equilibrium. A necessary skill for the operating room, but a deadly one for a relationship. Katherine had been so damn hard to resist, though, that Tory had forgiven her for every hurt but the last. Even her disarming grin and her pledge of undying love could not sway Tory then. That was part of the reason Tory needed to avoid any fantasies about the enigmatic Deputy Sheriff—she had that same irresistible quality of bravado and rakish appeal that Katherine had had. Once was enough! Reese Conlon might be charming, and gallant, and brave—but she was dangerous, too.

Tory jerked in her seat when the phone rang. "Yes?" she said abruptly.

"I have her, Doctor. We’ll be there in five minutes. The parents are on their way," Reese stated over her car phone.

"What’s her status?" Tory asked as she rose from behind her desk.

"She’s not talking. She’s not even crying. But I don’t see any obvious injuries. We’re just up the street—"

"Bring her back to the procedure room."

"Roger that."

**********

Tory looked up a moment later to find Reese standing in the door of her examining room with a bundle in her arms. A tousled blond head poked out of a green flak jacket emblazoned with the Marine Corp insignia.

"Put her up on the table," Tory indicated brusquely as she reached for a stethoscope. Reese settled the child carefully on the paper-covered surface as Tory turned to the little girl with a smile on her face.

"Hi, sweetie," she said. "I’m Dr. King. Can you tell me your name?" She laid her hand gently on the child’s knee as she spoke. The little girl's skin was cool to her touch.

"Reese, there’s a blanket in the warmer behind you. Get it for me, will you?"

Reese wrapped the soft flannel around the young patient’s shoulders as Tory placed a plastic thermometer sleeve against the child’s earlobe. The little girl watched her in silence, but she didn’t seem to be afraid.

"Her temperature is a little low, but not dangerously so," Tory commented as she placed the bell of her stethoscope against the small chest. She noted the strong steady beat with satisfaction. Looking down, she realized the girl’s shoes and socks were missing.

"What happened to her shoes?" she asked as she slipped the stethoscope into her pocket.

"I took them off," Reese replied. "They were wet."

Now that she was satisfied that the child was in no danger, Tory really looked at Reese for the first time.

"You’re soaked, Reese! What happened?"

Reese shrugged. "She climbed out to the edge of a tide pool, following the kites, I think. The tide had come in quite a ways before I found her."

Tory shuddered inwardly at the image of a small child trapped by the swirling waters, unable to climb out and unlikely to be able to swim. She knew that rescue had come barely in time, and only then because of the intelligence and tireless dedication of the woman beside her. A woman, she noted now, who was shivering slightly while she waited to help further.

"You need to get out of those clothes, Reese," she said gently.

"I’ll stay if you need me," Reese responded quietly.

Tory shook her head. "She’s fine. Her parents should be here soon. Go on."

"I’ve got clothes in the squad car. I’ll just be a minute," Reese said, reluctant to leave. She had known instinctively that the little girl was in no danger, but she was captivated by watching Tory King work. Tory took charge with a degree of command that Reese was used to, but with a gentleness and empathy that had been absent in the world of men Reese had inhabited. Reese was moved in a way she didn’t understand, stirred by the interplay of fierce concentration and compassionate warmth that suffused Tory’s elegant features.

Tory gave her a stern but fond look. "Go!"

Reese smiled, snapping a crisp salute. "Yes, ma’am!"

She slipped out as Sheriff Parker entered with the little girl’s parents rushing before him. The satisfying sounds of relieved cries and a happy reunion followed her retreat.

It took a few moments for Tory to convince the child’s parents that she was absolutely fine, but finally they began to relax after the hours of frantic worry. At length she glanced toward the hall, stunned to silence by what she saw. Reese stood quietly at the door, watching. She had pulled on a pair of faded grey sweat pants and a tee shirt, well-worn clothes that accentuated the shear physicality of her form, stretching tight across her broad shoulders, exposing the highly defined muscles in her arms, clinging to her narrow hips and strong thighs. Tory’s throat tightened as her heart began to race. She wanted to look away; she wanted to deny the unmistakable wave of desire; she wanted not to find this unusual woman more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Mercifully, the parents spied Reese standing there and descended upon her, releasing Tory from the gaze that unwittingly held her captive.

Reese was clearly uncomfortable with the attention as Mr. James gripped her hand, shaking it furiously as he exclaimed, "Thank you so much, Sheriff. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate what you’ve done!"

"You’re welcome - really," Reese responded, while trying to extricate her hand from his vice-like grasp. At last he stepped aside, only to be replaced in an instant by his wife. She gazed up at Reese for a moment, her tear-reddened eyes fixed on Reese’s. Then, unexpectedly, she laid her palm against Reese’s cheek in a gentle caress.

"I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found her," she whispered softly.

Tory watched, transfixed, as Reese tenderly placed her hand over the woman’s trembling fingers and clasped them softly.

"I would never let you lose your daughter," Reese murmured.

Reese’s blue eyes lifted above the woman’s head and found Tory’s gaze. The depth of Reese’s compassion lay open before her, and Tory was amazed that she ever could have questioned Reese’s feelings. Reese’s caring, exposed for an instant, had the intensity of a mortal wound. Tory comprehended in that moment that what Reese hid so well with her strict professionalism and rigid discipline was a degree of empathy that clearly verged on painful. That she hid it unconsciously, probably even from herself, came from years of habit. Tory had no doubt of that. She wondered what hurt had necessitated those barricades, and found herself even more intrigued by the impossibly handsome, impossibly compelling sheriff. Reese blushed under Tory’s intense scrutiny, finally looking away. The parents continued their thanks as they gathered their children and followed Sheriff Parker out, leaving Tory and Reese alone in the sudden silence.

"Well, I -" Reese began.

"Have you -" Tory said simultaneously.

They laughed, each relaxing as the hours of tension finally dissipated. Reese leaned against the doorjamb and regarded Tory with a smile.

"You were saying?"

"I’m starving. How about you?"

"I didn’t have dinner, and I don’t remember lunch." Reesse glanced at her watch, frowning. "Unfortunately, it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night. We’ll never get in anywhere."

Tory held up one finger, motioning her to silence as she lifted the phone from the wall behind her. She dialed a number from memory. "Claire? Tory King. Can you fit me in? Yes, right away would be great." She paused for a second, glancing up at Reese. "No - for two."

She laughed, coloring slightly. "Don’t jump to conclusions. We’ll be right over."

"The Flagstaff," she said as she replaced the receiver, "let’s go."

"Wait a second," Reese protested, gesturing to her attire. "Look at me. I can’t go like this!"

Any further looking at Reese Conlon was exactly what Tory did not want to do. "You look great," she said, meaning it. "Besides, this is Provincetown. There is no dress code. No arguing!"

For once, Reese accepted the order, sensing there was no room for negotiation. In truth, the crowd was casual as the hostess led them to a corner table with a beautiful view of the harbor. When chilled champagne in a bucket appeared at their side, she raised an eyebrow in question.

Tory shrugged, embarrassed. "Old friends. I knew both the owners in Boston years ago." And now they’re trying to match-make!

She busied herself pouring the champagne, disconcerted by Reese’s silence. She looked across the table into Reese’s searching eyes. "What?" she asked.

"Tell me about Boston," Reese replied. The look on Tory’s face when she mentioned it told Reese whatever happened there haunted Tory still. She wanted to know what caused that fleeting glimmer of pain.

Tory could pretend she didn’t understand, but decided in an unguarded moment not to. She rarely spoke of her personal life, but she wanted to now. Reese was looking at her as if her next words were the only things that mattered, and Tory wanted her to know. She wasn’t ready to ask herself why.

"I lived there for ten years, during my residency, and a few years after. My lover trained there also, and we both went into practice at Boston General when we finished. Claire and Sheila, the women who own this place, were good friends of ours. They moved here to follow their dream of owning a restaurant, and when Katherine left me, they convinced me to move here. At first I thought it would just be temporary, until I got my life in order. But now I know that this is my life."

"Had you been together long, you and Katherine?" Reese asked, her eyes never leaving Tory’s face.

"Since medical school - almost twelve years." Without being asked, she continued. "I was an ER attending. She was a trauma surgeon, and dashing as hell. All the women were after her, and finally she strayed. I found her with one of the nurses in an on call room in the middle of the day. She said it was the first time, but I’ll never know, will I? She left me a short time after that." She couldn’t keep the pain from her voice, and she was shocked to find tears in her eyes. Tears that she knew were not so much for Katherine, but for her own disappointment in love.

"I’m sorry," Reese murmured, hearing the tremulousness in Tory’s voice. "That was stupid of me. I didn’t mean to stir up old wounds."

Tory smiled grimly. "Don’t be sorry. I thought what we had was forever. I was mistaken. I won’t make that mistake again."

Reese understood the subject was closed. "My dojo is about finished. Still interested in training?" she asked, searching for safer ground.

"Absolutely," Tory responded enthusiastically, grateful to turn the conversation away from herself, and genuinely eager to discuss their mutual attraction to the martial arts. "When?"

Reese laughed. "You remind me of Brianna. Always ready to go."

"Thanks, I think. How’s she doing?"

"Really well. She’s got natural ability, and if she stays with it, she’ll be good."

"I’m glad to hear it. She’s needed some direction."

Reese debated discussing her concerns about Brianna with Tory, but decided she shouldn’t betray the girl’s confidence. She sensed Tory would know what to do if things got out of hand, and resolved to talk to her if and when the need arose.

"So how about tomorrow morning? Six thirty?" Reese asked.

Tory laughed ruefully, realizing that for Reese, Sunday was no different than any other day of the week. She obviously had no concept of sleeping in.

"I’ll be there. Now let’s order. I have to go home and go to bed."

Reese looked at her in surprise before Tory’s gentle laughter informed her of the joke.

The meal passed quickly as they spoke of the tourist season and exchanged light gossip about the small town inhabitants. The food was excellent and the effect of the shared champagne relaxing. They had just ordered coffee when Tory realized that Reese’s eyes were riveted on someone across the room.

"Excuse me a moment," Reese said, as she stood and moved resolutely away.

Tory glanced after her as she approached two women seated across the room. The loneliness she felt at Reese’s sudden absence surprised her. For a time, she had forgotten where she was, or what she needed to do the next day. She had been totally immersed in the moment, and enjoying Reese’s company tremendously. Reese was unexpectedly insightful, humorous, and entirely focused on Tory. It was a heady mixture, considering how physically attractive she was as well. In that way she reminded Tory of Katherine, and for the briefest of instants, Tory panicked. Then she took a breath and reminded herself that they were just having dinner, not getting engaged. When Reese returned a few moments later, she was strangely quiet.

"Are you all right?" Tory asked at length.

Reese looked up in surprise. "Yes, of course."

"Do you know them well? Jean and Kate?" Tory asked, indicating the couple across the room.

"No, not really," Reese responded quietly. "Kate is my mother."

Tory was momentarily at a loss. God, this woman was full of surprises! She remembered how vague Reese had been about her past, and knew it was a painful subject. "Did you know that she was here in Provincetown?" she asked carefully.

"I knew," Reese said, as she slowly stirred her coffee.

"And - ?"

"And—I’m not sure what, really," Reese continued. "I know she was part of the reason I came here, but I’m not sure what I hope to accomplish. I haven’t told my father she’s here, and that must mean something."

"Will he be angry?"

"I’m not sure. I think so. He still hasn’t accepted my leaving the Marine Corp, and I’m certain he would think she was part of the reason."

"Was she?"

Reese was silent for a moment, staring across the moon lit harbor, trying to find the words to explain what she felt six months ago when her life changed so drastically. She had given herself many reasons why the Marine Corp, the only family she had ever known, no longer suited her. She had given herself just as many reasons why Provincetown was the place she should be, but she had never admitted what part her mother’s presence played in these decisions. She turned her gaze to Tory, hoping the uncertainly she felt didn’t show in her face. Tory regarded her calmly, waiting without judgement. Reese felt her acceptance and the tension ebbed from her body. She stretched her long frame and gave Tory a wan smile.

"Yes, I suppose she was," Reese began slowly. "I’ve known for awhile she was here, but it’s been years since we had contact. I grew up trying not to think about her. Most of the time I succeeded. My father made it impossible for us to see one another when I was young, and we never spoke of her." She looked at Tory quickly. "Don’t misunderstand. I love my father, even though he was wrong. He probably acted out of wounded pride, but I never doubted that he loved me. For most of my life, I loved the Marines, too."

Tory laughed. "Oh, I don’t doubt that. In uniform or out, you will always be a Marine!" Suddenly serious, wanting very much to know, she asked, "So why did you leave?"

It finally felt like time, Reese thought to herself.

Reese gazed past Tory to the moonlit water as she chose her words carefully. It seemed important for Tory to understand. "I was born and raised a Marine. I had never left home. It was time to leave - time to build my own life. I think I wanted my mother to be part of it."

"I hope it works out," Tory said softly.

Reese nodded, pushing her empty cup to the side. "Thanks." She glanced at her watch and said apologetically, "I’m afraid I have to go. I have to get back to work - "

Tory was becoming accustomed to Reese’s devotion to her job, recognizing that working was what made her comfortable. She wished their evening wasn’t at an end, and wished even more that she hadn’t enjoyed it quite so much.
 
 

At six-twenty the next morning, Tory passed Brianna Parker in the driveway of Reese’s house. The split-level cedar shingled dwelling stood on a hill overlooking the wetlands at the end of Bradford Street. Tory turned to greet the teenager as she took a moment to appreciate the view. Brianna followed her gaze out over the marshes and dunes. They were alive with the flutter of gulls and other birds searching for breakfast.

"Hey, Brianna," Tory said, "pretty spectacular morning!"

"Yeah, I guess," the teen responded unenthusiastically.

"Tough class?"

Brianna’s face brightened. "No, it was great. Sensei’s teaching me to breakfall!"

"All ready! Hey, that’s terrific!"

Brianna looked away, her smile fading. "Yeah."

Tory had the feeling the youth was about to say more when she abruptly mumbled a goodbye and retreated hastily. Tory wished she knew how to make a connection with her. Each time Tory saw Brianna, she seemed a little more withdrawn, and a little more unhappy.

Tory hastened up the drive, wanting to be on time. The side door to the attached garage was open, and she stepped over the sill into a large square space that was almost completely covered with tatami mats, a traditional shock absorbent material found on the floors of most dojos in Japan. Along the near wall were a bench and a rack for shoes. On the wall opposite the bench was a small hand-carved shelf with a vase of flowers, several ornamental statues, and a picture of a formidable appearing Japanese man. Tory bowed in the direction of the kamiza, or traditional altar, to show her respect for the training hall and Reese’s teacher, then slipped her shoes onto the rack provided. Reese had been kneeling on the mat with her eyes closed when Tory entered, and she looked up now with a smile.

"Welcome. I’m glad you could make it."

"Thanks. I’ve been looking forward to it." As she spoke, Tory sat down, leaning over to remove the metal brace from her right leg. She replaced it with a much lighter short plastic air cast that prevented her ankle from dropping into its paralyzed position.

"Tell me about that," Reese said, indicating the support.

Tory’s hands tightened and her shoulders grew tense with the automatic resistance to any inquiry about her condition. Invariably it was accompanied by thinly disguised pity, discomfort, or misconception of her abilities. It didn’t matter that Reese had never seemed the least bit judgmental or dismissive. Tory’s response was fostered by years of anger and disappointment. She couldn’t find the words to answer.

After a moment, Reese asked, "How long has it been since you’ve trained with anyone?"

Tory met her eyes defiantly. "Since before my accident."

"Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to find out together what you can handle. Can you stand with that?"

Reese was so direct, and so matter of fact, that Tory began to relax.

"Yes, but I can’t really walk well with it. My balance is affected."

"So we start from stationary positions. Can you take a fall?"

"No problem."

"Leg sweep? Shoulder throw?"

"Either," Tory stated with assurance. She decided not to add that no one had thrown her since her injury, but she had practiced her drills and cane defenses diligently since her rehab was finished. She would be fine. She hoped.

"I thought we might alternate," Reese continued. "We can work on grappling one day, and you can teach me the cane the next. Sound okay?"

"Yes - fine."

They bowed to one another, and for the next hour Reese reviewed with Tory the fundamentals of jujitsu grappling techniques. Since Tory already held an advanced belt in a style that employed joint locks and takedowns, much of what they practiced was familiar to her with only slight variations. They were evenly matched in terms of stamina thanks to Tory’s rigorous conditioning from kayaking. Her mobility was hindered, but most of the techniques were designed to be performed in very close quarters, and she was able to adjust.

When they bowed to one another at the end of their session, she felt invigorated in a way she hadn’t for years. She felt strong and capable. She didn’t want to stop, even though she knew she would be sore the next day.

"Thanks. That was excellent," she exclaimed.

"So - same time tomorrow?" Reese responded.

Tory was momentarily caught off guard. It hadn’t occurred to her that Reese would want to train quite so seriously. Once again she was aware of the other woman’s persuasiveness and compelling intensity. She felt herself pleasantly challenged by the offer, and nodded her assent. Reese rewarded her with that dazzling smile which burst from nowhere and seemed to flicker away all too quickly.

"If I have an emergency, I’ll call -" Tory began.

"No need," Reese interrupted. "If you aren’t here, I’ll know it is for some very good reason. I know you’ll be here when you can."

"Are you always so immune to uncertainty?" Tory asked unexpectedly.

Reese regarded her seriously. "Is that what you think? I’m uncertain sometimes- just not about what I believe-" She looked at Tory pointedly, "or about those I trust."

Tory blushed, pleased. Reese had a way of making things seem simple, and she knew she never wanted to disappoint her. That thought was enough to disturb her for the rest of the day.

**********

As June unfolded and summer approached, they managed to get together five or six mornings a week. Tory found that she had to rise an hour earlier so she could row and still reach the dojo by six-thirty. Usually she saw Brianna leaving as she arrived, and she knew with certainty that Reese had been up for several hours. She was impressed with Brianna’s determination and Reese’s tirelessness. She found her own endurance increasing, and noted with cautious optimism that her ankle and leg seemed a little stronger, and that she was moving better with the lighter air cast. She wasn’t deluding herself with the hope that her leg would ever be normal, but each small improvement cheered her.

In addition to the physical benefits of her new training regimen, she had to admit she was enjoying Reese’s company. Reese was single-minded in her pursuit of any endeavor, whether it was training, policing, or simply talking. When she was with you, she was intensely present. Tory tried not to think about just how much she looked forward to her time with Reese, or how much she liked Reese's slow, easy smile and her deep, resonant voice.

On the last Saturday in June, Tory found Reese in her customary position, kneeling in the dojo with her eyes closed, meditating while she waited. When she smiled a greeting, Tory remarked, "Was that Brianna’s girlfriend with her this morning? I saw them out front as I was leaving."

"How did you know?" Reese asked in surprise. "Caroline came to watch a class."

Tory laughed. "I think it was the way she was hanging onto Brianna - or maybe that she looked like she wanted to lick the sweat off Brianna’s neck."

"Not too subtle, are they," Reese remarked grimly. When they had arrived Bri had one arm flung possessively around the young blonde’s shoulders, and Caroline had her hand tucked in Bri’s back pocket. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Caroline’s eyes never left Bri the entire time they were in the dojo, and the look in them was positively hungry. Reese had hoped they would be a little more restrained on the street.

"Why should you expect them to be any different? It’s young love. They don’t have any awareness of anything but each other. They probably wouldn’t notice a ten car pile-up across the street most of the time." She smiled to herself as she removed her shoes and changed leg braces. "Does Nelson know about this?"

"No," Reese said with concern. "Bri is afraid to tell him. She’s afraid he’ll try to keep them apart."

Tory nodded. "She might be right, but there’s no way they’ll be able to keep it quiet for long. Especially if they go anywhere together in the light of day. Anyone who’s ever been in love, or lust for that matter, could tell with just one glance."

Reese wondered briefly if she would have known if she hadn’t found them locked in one another’s arms that night. Would she recognize what she’d never experienced? Was there really something so consuming that she could lose herself, and her eternal vigilance, even for a minute?

"Maybe I should say something to her," Reese mused aloud.

Tory answered carefully, fighting her own defensiveness. "Reese, those girls are acting like any two teenagers in love. They’re high school seniors, nearly adults. If you ask them to hide what they feel, you’re telling them there’s something wrong with what they’re doing. It’s bad enough that most of the world thinks so, it would be devastating for them if someone they obviously trust said so too. You must realize Bri trusts you, or she never would have brought her girlfriend here! She’s asking you for your acceptance."

"I’m worried about them," Reese countered. "A young gay boy was beaten up outside a bar in Truro two weeks ago, and I saw a report from Easton yesterday about a suspicious robbery of two gay men that looked like gay-bashing. We haven’t had any problems here- yet."

Tory frowned. "I’ll certainly keep an eye out at the clinic for anything that looks like it was gay-motivated. But the best thing you can do for those two girls is exactly what you are doing. Keep the streets safe, and offer them a supportive adult presence."

"I’m not too comfortable in that role," Reese admitted. "I know so little of what they’re experiencing."

Tory regarded her with more than a tinge of disappointment. It was pretty clear from that admission that Reese wasn’t gay. She hated to admit she had been hoping otherwise. "It’s no different from what straight teenagers experience, Reese - just more difficult for some of them who are afraid, or sadly, ashamed. Just remember your first time."

Reese looked at her oddly. "That’s my point, Tory. I never had a first time."

The statement was delivered so matter of factly, Tory wasn’t sure how to respond. Was it possible that a thirty- something woman, especially such an interesting, attractive one, had never been in love? Or was she simply saying she had never been a crazy teenager in the throws of hormonal insanity?

Thankfully, Reese saved her from her own confusion by saying, "Marge says there’s a bar where a lot of the kids go. I thought I’d check it out but Marge insists I look too much like a cop. Would you like to go undercover with me and take a look?"

"Reese," Tory said, trying to keep a straight face, "there is nothing on this earth that could make you look like anything but a cop - but, sure, I’ll go with you. When?"

"How about tonight? After dinner - my treat."

"Tonight is fine - and your treat only if it’s on me next time."

Reese smiled, "Deal."

As Tory knelt to bow in for the start of their workout, she wondered just what she had let herself in for. She didn’t have time to think about anything further. By its nature, their workouts were intimate in the sense that of all the styles of martial arts, jujitsu was the one that required the most bodily contact. Usually, such contact is automatic and completely devoid of any sensual connotation, as the mind and body are engaged in a different realm of endeavor - that of self-defense. Reese and she were working on finishing pins, which required them to literally lie across each other, applying pressure to the opponent’s elbow until they were immobilized. Tory wasn’t thinking of anything except how to dislodge the person who had her flat on her back, with her arm locked out and a forearm pressed against her trachea. It was not a position she wanted to be in, and she responded automatically.

Reese felt her struggling, attempting to reverse the pin. She let up on the pressure she was exerting against Tory’s wrist joint. "Tory, wait," she said.

Tory immediately relaxed. This was not a contest, it was a training session, and as the most experienced stylist, Reese was in charge.

Reese pushed herself up on her arms, looking down at Tory with a smile. The weight of her body rested lightly along the length of Tory’s body. "You’ll wear yourself out if you thrash about, especially if your opponent is much heavier."

Tory looked up into the blue eyes just inches above her own, and suddenly the dojo receded. She was instantly aware of the pressure of Reese’s thigh between her legs, the firmness of her body, the subtle swell of her breasts beneath the cotton gi, and the faint blush of perspiration on her tanned chest. Tory’s heart beat a little faster, her skin tingled where Reese’s fingers had held her, and she had the insane desire to press her lips against the moist skin of Reese’s neck. She gasped at the onslaught of sensations, shocked at the sudden wetness between her thighs.

Reese immediately rolled off of her, exclaiming, "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Tory replied, acutely embarrassed. In all the years she had been training, nothing like this had ever happened. She had to drag her senses away from impact of the woman beside her. Trouble, trouble, trouble she chided herself as her body trembled. Fool, fool, fool echoed back to her.

"Tory?" Reese continued, worried. Tory was shaking, she could see it. The very thought that Tory was hurt made her stomach clench. "Is it your leg?" They were lying side by side, inches apart. She reached out instinctively, brushing her fingers against Tory's cheek.

"No, Reese, it’s not my leg!" Tory said, sitting up, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Just a cramp. It’s gone now." She looked into Reese’s troubled face, knowing she didn’t have a clue about what just happened. Tory fought to ignore the increasing pressure throbbing through her pelvis. God! Did she have to be so damned attractive?! "Really, I’m okay. Let’s just switch techniques for a while."

"You’re sure?"

"Absolutely."

They finished their workout, both unusually subdued. Tory was trying to keep her mind off what had been an unmistakable rush of potent physical desire. Reese was trying to understand why the mere thought of Tory in pain moved her in a way nothing ever had.

"Do you want to take a day or two off?" Reese asked after they finished.

Tory glanced at her, seeing the concern in her face. It’s not fair to make her worry just because you can’t control yourself!

"Are you tired?" Tory teased lightly.

"No, I just thought-" Reese stopped, blushing slightly. "I guess you’ll tell me if you need a break, huh?"

Tory smiled gently, finding Reese even more attractive in her slight uncertainty. "You can trust me to take care of myself. But thanks for asking."

Reese grinned. "Marge would say I’m doing ‘my butch’ thing. Right?"

It was Tory’s turn to blush. And exactly how would Marge know? She busied herself with her gear, rejoining, "Actually, yes. But on you it just seems natural. Don’t worry about it.

"So, I’ll see you tonight?"

"Yes, of course.

**********

They met outside Front Street, a favorite restaurant of the locals and tourists alike. Reese wore a white open collared shirt and well-worn blue jeans with highly polished black boots. Tory was equally casual in black jeans and a scoop neck black singlet that molded to her well-developed shoulders and arms. Reese had called ahead for reservations, and they were seated immediately. The waitress, who knew Tory by name and Reese by the usual town gossip network, was attentive in a nonobtrusive way. Tory was aware that they turned more than a few heads as the restaurant filled up. Reese seemed totally unaware of the notoriety, sipping a glass of red wine as she leaned back in her chair, recounting for Tory the four years she had been stationed in Japan.

"The part I loved best of course was the opportunity to train with the Japanese at one of their own schools. My teacher in the states had written ahead with an introduction, which helped pave the way. The Japanese are much more receptive to American students than they used to be, including women, but it certainly helps to have a personal connection. I had been training for close to ten years by the time I got there, which didn’t hurt either." Reese grinned a little ruefully as she emptied her glass. "I’m boring you, aren’t I?"

"On the contrary," Tory remarked, reaching to fill both their glasses. "I was just thinking how I envied you. My own training took a back seat to my rowing for many years. About the time you were in Japan, I was getting ready for Barcelona."

Reese caught the flicker of pain that clouded Tory’s expressive features for an instant before the other woman visibly drew herself out of the past. Reese reached spontaneously for her hand and held it gently.

"I’m sorry for the pain, Tory," she said softly. "You don’t have to talk about it -"

Tory shook her head. "I’m pretty well over it. It’s just so damn frustrating! I had come close to winning the gold in the previous Olympics, and I was in the best shape of my life. It was just a warm-up run, not even the preliminary heats. One minute I was flying. The sun was on my back, the surface was perfect - like glass, and I knew it was my time. The next thing I knew they were fishing me off the bottom, with my leg in pieces. I looked down at my foot hanging there - I couldn’t feel it, and I knew it as all over." She took a deep breath, dispelling the memory. "Then I spent the next year just hoping I would walk again." She looked at Reese apologetically. "Now this is really awful dinner conversation!"

As she talked, she had unconsciously entwined her fingers with Reese’s. Tory studied their interlaced fingers as they lay against the white tablecloth. Reese’s compassion and unspoken sympathy seemed to flow into her through those long, strong fingers. It was comforting, and not the least bit pitying.

"Reese," she said softly, her throat suddenly dry. "If people see us like this, they’re going to assume this is a date." She kept her voice light, but she couldn’t control the slight quiver in it. She felt raw and uncomfortably vulnerable.

"Are you telling me it isn’t," Reese asked quietly, no hint of banter in her voice.

Tory jerked in surprise, her pulse racing. She searched Reese’s face for the suggestion of a joke, and found only Reese’s serious blue eyes gazing back.

"Reese, I am a thirty-eight year old woman. I have finally recovered from losing a lover I thought I would grow old with. I’m not sure "date" is a word in my current vocabulary. Most importantly, I have no idea what the word means to you."

"I’m afraid my answer may not make sense," Reese began. "I am thirty-seven years old and I’ve never been on a date. I think what it means to me is spending time with someone I find interesting, someone I want to know better – someone- special."

"And eventually?" Tory asked gently.

Reese flushed but she didn’t look away. "Uncharted territory."

"Oh, Reese," Tory sighed, giving her hand a little shake. "You’re putting me in an impossible position! Dates are not about friendship - not in the ordinary sense - dates are about the possibility of something more, something deeper." She hesitated briefly. "And dates usually occur when two people are sexually attracted to one another. I can’t afford anymore heartbreak, Reese - and you, my beautiful friend, are heartbreak material."

"Are you trying to let me down gently?" Reese asked with a hint of levity. She didn’t want to make Tory uneasy, and she understood Tory’s reluctance to become involved again. She couldn’t clearly describe what she felt, it was too new. She only knew that sitting there with Tory’s hand in hers felt completely natural, and completely right. And she also knew she didn’t want to let go.

Tory appreciated Reese’s attempt to lessen the pressure on her. But for her own preservation, and in fairness to Reese, she needed to be clear. "I’m not ready to take a chance on someone who may not even be a lesbian. I’m not sure I want to risk anything anymore. I’m sorry." As she spoke she gently disengaged her hand from Reese’s.

Reese shook her head, smiling softly. "Don’t be. Until now the only words that ever applied to me for certain were "recruit" and "soldier". I never gave anything else a thought."

Tory laughed. She congratulated herself on steering their relationship onto safer ground. She steadfastly ignored the way her pulse raced everytime she looked up to find Reese’s disconcertingly appraising eyes upon her.
 
 

"So, tell me what’s going on with you and our good doctor," Marge said as she lined up her shot. She stroked lightly through the cue ball and slid the nine ball into the side pocket.

"Nice shot," Reese commented as she balanced two fresh beers on the thin shelf that ran along the wall. "What do you mean, what’s going on?"

Marge glanced at her briefly as she slowly circled the table, planning her next salvo. The slightly perplexed look on her young friend’s face told her the Deputy Sheriff really didn’t know what the rumor mill had been churning out. "Word has it that the two of you are an item."

"Because we had dinner together?" Reese inquired as she carefully chalked the end of her custom cue.

"Romantic dinners. More than once, I’m told," Marge added as she banked in her next shot. "And because she seems to spend a lot of time at your place. And because the two of you have been seen together at the Lavender Lounge the last two Saturday nights."

Reese was impressed with the accuracy of the local reporting.

"Sounds like you’re information central," she commented dryly.

"It’s the tea dance. Everybody trades news there. I keep trying to tell you what you’re missing. And don’t avoid the issue!"

Reese approached the table as Marge narrowly missed a tricky combination. Stretching her long form low to get the proper sight along her stick, she neatly deposited the three ball in the corner pocket.

"We’re not an item. We’re friends."

Marge waited. When nothing further seemed to be forthcoming, she sighed with exaggerated impatience.

"And? Do you have any intentions?" she asked as she watched Reese move gracefully around the table. It was looking like they’d need to go four out of seven for a fair match.

"She isn’t interested," Reese said flatly. She gently tapped the cue ball the length of the table, angling the seven into the corner.

Marge raised a questioning eyebrow at the vague answer. "I was asking after your plans."

Reese leaned her stick against the edge of the pooltable, regarding her companion seriously as she reached for her beer.

"I can’t answer that."

Marge looked peeved. "Well, if you don’t want to tell me-"

"That’s not what I meant. I don’t know how to answer your question."

"You like her, right?"

"Of course, she’s terrific."

"And she’s great looking, right?"

"She’s beautiful."

"So, at the risk of sounding like the crude old dyke that I am, have you given any thought to taking her to bed?"

Reese studied the foam on her beer. "Aren’t there a few steps you left out? Like - well, like courting?"

Marge coughed on the mouthful of beer she was swallowing. "God, you are priceless! Courting! If the girls in this town only knew what you were really like, you’d have to beat them off with a stick!"

Reese asked cautiously, "What do they think I’m like?"

"I think Carol from the Cheese Shop put it best. She said you were an impossibly good-looking, unapproachable butch who probably does the asking. And there's a fair number of women waiting for you to ask. Only I know that you’re an old-fashioned romantic."

Reese smiled ruefully. "No, Marge -I’m not that either. What I am is someone who’s always been happy with my life just the way it is. I never thought to look for anything more. It never occurred to me there was anything more."

Marge started to protest, then grew quiet. At length she voiced what she initially had found inconceivable. "You’ve never been with a woman, have you?"

"No."

"Oh, boy," Marge whistled. She looked at her suspiciously. "You’re not straight are you? There’ll be hearts breaking all over town."

Reese looked away with a shrug.

"Tell me you don’t know," Marge said in disbelief.

"It’s not that simple," Reese stated. "I’ve spent my life with men, many of whom I commanded. The rules are very clear, and very strict. I never had that kind of relationship with anyone. It never seemed to matter to me."

"What about- you know, sex -" Marge persisted.

"I’ve had feelings -" Reese said, remembering with absolute clarity the way Tory had felt in her arms when she had innocently carried Tory into her house. She remembered the warmth of Tory’s fingers in hers at dinner, and the rightness of it. "The opportunity just never arose."

Marge simply shook her head. "Unbelievable. But you still haven’t answered my question about the doc. Do you have feelings, as you so delicately put it, for her?"

Reese picked up her stick and focused her attention back on her game. "It doesn’t matter. She’s been hurt, she shouldn’t be hurt again. I’m the last thing she needs."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn’t trust me not to hurt her."

Marge was well aware that Reese had avoided discussing her own feelings, and respected the unspoken barrier. But she still wasn’t ready to let her completely off the hook. Left to her own devices, Reese’d never figure out what she was about - or that sometimes women just needed you to keep trying. She didn’t doubt that Tory King was cautious. Marge hadn’t known her to date anyone the entire three years she’d lived there. She also knew that sometimes rumors started because those on the outside looking in saw more than the people who were in the thick of it.

"So how about coming to the tea dance tomorrow? It’s the fourth of July weekend. You’ve never seen anything like it," she pressed.

Reese sighed. "You know I’m working -"

"Right - and I know damn well you’re still working splits with Smith. You can come to the tea and have plenty of time to sleep before the late shift.

Reese had refused thus far to accompany Marge to the popular afternoon event, somehow worried that it would conflict with her official position. To go dancing amidst the people she was supposed to be protecting seemed like the taboo of an officer fraternizing with the enlisted troops. She had to admit that excuse was getting a little thin. She lived in Provincetown - attending the dance wasn’t likely to cause any greater stir than simply going out to dinner seemed to. And she did want to be personally familiar with as much of the unique community’s life as possible.

"Okay," she finally relented, "for a little while."

"Excellent," Marge enthused. "And Reese? Lose the uniform or you’ll have every woman in the place hanging on you."

**********

Marge looked her over with satisfaction when Reese met her at the gym at four-thirty the next afternoon. The white tank top displayed her impressive shoulders nicely; the tight faded jeans hung low on her slim hips. Not for the first time she felt the stirring of desire. Her new friend was all the more attractive because she obviously didn’t know it. Marge was certain that Reese never noticed the open stares she received - in uniform or out. For her part, Marge simply enjoyed looking at her, knowing she would never act on it.

Reese regarded her quizzically. "What? Am I late?"

"You’re never late," Marge asserted dryly. "Come on, Sheriff. Let’s go to the dance."

They could hear the music from two blocks away, and already the small dance floor was crowded. For two hours at the end of the day, after the beach and before the night’s activities began, most of the town’s inhabitants would make the pilgrimage to the Boatslip for the tea dance. There was a huge outdoor deck with tables overlooking the harbor, several bars, and a dance floor that never seemed big enough but somehow always managed to accommodate the crowds. The ratio was probably four to one men to women, and unlike in many other bars, everyone got along. The atmosphere was usually one of unrestrained enthusiasm.

"What’re you drinking?" Marge asked as they threaded their way through the throngs to the outside bar.

"Just a diet coke," Reese said, heading toward the end of the deck that overlooked the beach while Marge joined the long line at the bar. She leaned against the rail, one booted foot up on the lower rung. She watched the couples strolling along the water's edge, some of them running playfully in and out of the froth. Two women stopped to share a kiss. The sight stirred her unexpectedly, and she had to look away. She was unsettled enough that she wasn’t aware of the woman beside her until she spoke.

"I thought I saw you come in," Tory said, one hand shielding her eyes in the sun. Reese had a strangely distant look in her eyes. "You all right?"

Reese shook her head, smiling. "Just daydreaming."

Tory smiled back. "Glad to hear it. Listen - there’s someone here I want you to meet. Have you got a second?"

Reese looked around and saw Marge deep in conversation with someone in the bar line. "Sure."

"Great - Catherine just got here and _"

Reese recoiled with an involuntary gasp, stepping back a pace in surprise. "No, I - I don’t want to intrude," she managed to say as an unfamiliar tightening in her throat threatened her voice. Whatever was causing the icy ache in her chest was enough to force her to turn away, searching frantically for Marge’s familiar back and the offer of escape.

Tory reached for the tanned forearm, shocked at Reese’s reaction. She had never before seen Reese lose her composure. Her entire body was stiff with tension.

"Reese!" Tory cried in alarm. "What’s the matter?"

Reese couldn’t explain to Tory what she didn’t have words for herself. She only knew that if Tory was here with her former lover, she didn’t want to see them together. She struggled for an excuse. "It’s late - I should go-"

Tory continued to study her intently. There was no mistaking the turmoil in those deep blue eyes. What she didn’t understand was the fleeting look of something close to pain that had marred Reese’s usually implacable features. And she wasn’t about to let her away before she did understand it.

"Reese! Damn it! Tell me what’s wrong!"

"Nothing -really," Reese responded evenly, her feelings now firmly in hand. "I’m sorry - it isn’t you. I really can’t stay."

Tory didn’t believe her, but she knew by now how stubborn Reese was. She wouldn’t talk until she was ready. "At least stop and meet my sister?" Tory asked.

"Your sister?!" Reese couldn’t keep the confusion from her voice. "But I thought-"

"Yes," Tory replied, just as surprised. "Who did you -" She stopped in midsentence, staring, trying not to blush. "You thought I meant Kathrine - my lover, Kathrine."

It was Reese’s turn to blush. "Yes," was finally all that she said.

They stared at each other as the air around them grew dense with feelings neither of them dared put words to. Tory finally broke the silence, her hand still grasping Reese’s arm.

"It wouldn’t be her," she said softly, "for a number of reasons. We haven’t kept in touch, and I don’t want to see her. There is nothing between us now." As she spoke, her fingers slid slowly down to lightly clasp Reese’s. It was important that Reese understand that Kathrine held no claim on her.

"You don’t need to explain," Reese responded quietly.

"No?" Tory queried just as gently, feeling Reese’s fingers intertwine with hers, trying to ignore the quick thrill of excitement that small closeness produced. "Perhaps not, but I wanted to."

Reese smiled slowly, giving Tory’s hand a tug, breaking the tension. "Come on then. Introduce me to your sister!"

Marge joined them eventually at the small table they had commandeered. Tory’s younger sister was as extroverted and gregarious as Tory was solitary, and in no time she had talked Marge into taking her off to the dance floor.

"That’s the last we’ll see of them for a while," Tory remarked as she glanced after her sister fondly. "Cath loves to party."

Reese stretched her long legs out to the side of the table and settled back with a sigh. "At least she’s in good company. Marge has enough energy for two or three people!"

"Besides that, Marge is a great dancer, and Cath could dance all night," Tory added. "It’s so great to have her here. She’s got two kids, a demanding job - even with a husband who’s willing to help, it’s hard for her to take time away. She’s between jobs now, so I’ve finally got her to myself. I was worried about showing her a good time."

Reese saw Tory glance down at the brace protruding below the cuff of her white cotton slacks. In some part of her mind, Reese was always aware of it, too. When she and Tory worked out without it, Reese was careful to temper the force of her throws and takedowns. She would never risk further injury to someone who had already suffered so much. Even when they walked through town in the evenings after a dinner out, Reese was aware of their pace, the surface of the pavement, the surge of the crowds around them. Although she never thought of Tory as disabled, or less than totally capable in any way, she felt an instinctive protectiveness she would never admit to her. Knowing that Tory felt inhibited by her injury made her long to change it.

"You know something," Reese said. "I’ve never learned to dance. I always managed to avoid those insufferable military affairs by volunteering to take the duty."

Tory stared at her. How could it be that someone so accomplished could have missed so many of the simple pleasures of life? And why did it not seem to bother her? Could she really be so self-sufficient that she didn’t need what most people spent their lives seeking - some connection with another human being? That thought saddened Tory unaccountably.

"Well that has to change." Tory stated emphatically. "As soon as Cath gets back I’m assigning her the task of teaching you."

"If I have to learn, I’d rather it be with you."

Reese’s tone was so gentle, Tory found herself struggling with tears. "I’d love to," she managed finally. "But I don’t think I can."

Reese pushed back her chair and held out her hand. "Let’s find out."

There was something about the compassionate insistence in her voice, and the comfort of that outstretched hand, that Tory couldn’t resist. Without wanting to think what it might mean, she stood, grasping the strong fingers.

"All right - but we have to at least wait for a slow song."

Reese nodded and led the way through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor. When the pulsing music slowed, they stepped to a corner of the small space and faced one another.

Tory looked up into Reese’s smile and stepped into her arms. "You lead," she said quietly.

"As long as you keep me on track," Reese rejoined as she slipped one arm around Tory’s waist. Tory fit effortlessly against her, and despite the frequent physical contact they had on nearly a daily basis in the dojo, this felt vastly different. Reese was aware of the press of Tory's breasts against her chest, and the length of firm thigh just touching her own. Tory’s head rested lightly on her shoulder, her hair rich with the scent of sunshine and sea. For a second Reese was breathless from the assault of sensation.

"You’re shaking," Tory whispered, hoping that Reese couldn’t feel the trembling in her own body.

"Nervous," Reese murmured, closing her eyes, unconsciously tightening her hold as they moved together, tentatively at first, then with a growing confidence as each sensed the other’s rhythm.

Tory couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held her, and she could no more control her response than she could stop her heartbeat. It was as if her skin was opening, allowing the heat from Reese’s body to penetrate to her core, and the fire that flared within had a life all its own. Unconsciously she pressed closer, cleaving to the strong frame, her fingers on Reese’s back tightening as waves of heat threatened to eclipse her senses. When Reese’s hips shifted naturally forward into her, she couldn’t prevent a soft moan.

"Okay?" Reese questioned softly, her breath warm against Tory’s cheek.

Tory tried to steady her voice as she replied, "Just out of practice. Don’t let go, I may topple over." She fervently hoped Reese couldn’t feel just how true her words were.

"Don’t worry about that," Reese answered. She scarcely recognized her own body. It seemed to have developed new senses in just a few scant moments. Her skin was tingling, her pulse pounded in her ears, and she swore she could feel Tory’s heart beat in time with her own. Whatever was happening, she had no desire for it to stop. In fact, when the music changed to a faster beat she didn’t even notice. The heady mixture of physical stimulation and emotional confusion muted her awareness of anything beyond Tory and herself.

"I have to sit this one out, Reese - it’s going to get very fast in a minute," Tory said as she leaned back to look up into her taller partners’ face. Reese was staring at her in the strangest way, her grip about Tory’s waist tightening instinctively as the contact between them lessened. Tory tilted her head questioningly as she relaxed against Reese’s body. "What is it?" she asked. She had to raise her voice as the music pounded and more people crowded onto the floor.

Reese looked around, fully cognizant of her surroundings for the first time in what seemed like hours. Her loss of connection with external events was enough to frighten her; that coupled with the apparent mutiny of her senses left her totally baffled. She leaned close, her lips against Tory’s ear.

"I’m ready to sit down, too, but my legs seem to have acquired a mind of their own. And they’re saying stay."

Tory laughed, slipping her hand down Reese’s arm and grasping her hand.

"Come on! I’ll lead the way."

As she turned to guide them through the crowd, she was acutely aware of Reese pressed against her. She told herself it was because of the throng of people close around them, and not due to any intent on Reese’s part. Regardless of the reason, she couldn’t deny the surge of pleasure the contact provoked.

Marge and Catherine, sandwiched against the narrow rail enclosing the dance floor watched them go. Marge had just replenished their drinks and they were catching their breath before the next round on the dance floor.

"I can’t believe my eyes," Catherine muttered. "I haven’t seen her on a dance floor in ten years. That friend of yours must be a magician."

Marge grunted. "The likes of her I’ve not seen before."

Catherine looked alarmed. "Don’t tell me she’s some kind of playboy - playgirl rather, - or something worse! My sister had her heart broken once already by someone like that!"

"That’s not what I meant," Marge soothed. "She’s about as honorable as they come - maybe too honorable. She’ll protect your sister to the point of holding back what the doc might like offered."

"She’s not straight is she?"

"Haven’t seen any signs of it," Marge said with a grin. "But then you don’t exactly shriek married mother of two."

"Yes, well, I don’t look like a combination of k.d.Lang and Gregory Peck either!"

"True enough -" Marge conceded. "I’ve known Doc King for three years, and I know damn well she can take of herself. Reese Conlon is a tough one to figure, but I get nothing but good feelings from her. And I can tell she thinks a lot of your sister. And I’d bet my last dime that she’s gay. I know you’re going to worry, but it won’t change anything."

"I know. It’s just that Tory's had so many lousy breaks. She deserves so much more."

Marge nodded. "Whatever happens between them, you don’t have to worry about Reese Conlon. She believes that Marine Corp stuff - including the semper fi."

God, I hope so, Cath thought. She had seen the way her sister looked at the woman.

"I can’t believe how crowded this place has gotten!" Reese exclaimed as she maneuvered the Cape Codder in its tall frosted glass onto the small table in front of Tory. She slid into the seat beside her, nearly draining her own seltzer and lime in one deep draft. "Dancing is quite the experience," she commented. "Thank you for the lesson."

Tory searched for a hint of sarcasm, but found none. "My pleasure," she said, knowing only too well how dangerously true those words were. "You’re a natural. I didn’t do anything except follow your lead. You’ll have to ask my sister to fast dance with you - she’s great."

"No thanks," Reese said emphatically. "You’re more than enough for me. Let her wear Marge out if she can."

Tory couldn’t help but blush, even though she knew perfectly well that Reese wasn’t flirting. She wouldn’t know how to flirt if she wanted to, Tory thought to herself with disgust. You have got to get over yourself with this woman!

"How would you like to have an early dinner?" Reese asked.

Tory hesitated, still searching for calm after the way she had felt dancing. Reese looked so damn handsome with the sun highlighting her blue-black hair and her tanned, golden skin. The fact that she was watching Tory intently didn’t help. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the woman was asking her out. Her body refused to behave. Her pulse skipped, her stomach fluttered, and there was no denying the wet warmth that pounded insistently between her thighs. Reese excited her, and that was impossible. That way lay disaster. She saw Marge and her sister approaching with relief.

"I can’t," she said, beckoning her head toward the women. "I need to spend some time with my sister."

Reese felt a quick stab of rejection, which made no sense at all! Of course Tory needed to see her sister. Her acute disappointment was embarrassing. She stood abruptly, needing suddenly the comfortable familiarity of her work.

"Of course - I should be going anyway." She looked about to say more, but she simply turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Marge looked after her retreating back in surprise. "Where’s she off to?"

Tory sighed. "To work, would be my guess. Where else?"

Now Marge stared at her in astonishment. What was it with these two? They both looked as if they had lost their last friend.

"Your sister and I were just discussing dinner. You ready for that?"

Tory pushed herself up, reaching for her cane from the back of the chair. "I’m not really hungry. Why don’t you two go? I’ll be at the clinic. You can pick me up later."

She didn’t wait for their reply. She was too preoccupied with the memory of Reese Conlon’s face when she walked away. Despite an attempt to hide it, Reese had looked hurt, and that upset Tory more than she wanted to admit.
 
 

Continued

Return to The Bard's Corner