Lifeline Read online

  Lifeline

  Part 1

  Damn! How much did I have to drink last night?

  Head pounding, muscles screaming in outrage, eyes filled with grit, and a tongue swollen to twice its normal size led the confused woman to the obvious conclusion. I obviously got massively shit-faced last night. Trying to roll out of bed was a huge mistake, she immediately learned, falling back to lie flat on the mattress while trying to keep her stomach from rebelling.

  Time to assess the damage, she thought, her brain still muddled. Well, one thing’s for sure. I’ve never been so dehydrated. She wasn’t sure what day of the week it was, or what bed they were in, so she forced an eye open, nearly screaming when the sun’s incredible brightness flooded her retina. Very bad idea … very, very bad idea. Damn! Was I drinking grain alcohol? I’ve never had a headache this bad. I feel like I was run over by a …

  Suddenly, her heart started to pound in her chest and snippets of memories began to assault her with astounding force and rapidity. Blindly, she reached out and felt for her lover, nearly crying out in relief when she touched her warm body. Thank God!

  Like a marsupial crawling blindly into its mother’s pouch, she slid across the bed and sighed heavily when Jamie automatically wrapped her arms around her. Judging from the steady, slow rhythm of her breathing, it was clear that the smaller woman wasn’t going to wake, and Ryan nestled her head against her neck, breathing in her usual morning scent. That simple act calmed her enough for her to allow some of the awful memories of the night before to surface. As the images flooded her brain, her heart felt like it would explode in her chest, and her headache somehow managed to worsen as the gut-churning fear coursed through her body.

  You have to stop this! You promised Jamie you’d focus on being grateful to be alive! She lay still for a moment, then forced herself to scoot to the edge of the bed and sit up – feeling each and every overstressed muscle complain vigorously. Damn! Maybe I did tear a muscle … or fifty. Shaking her head, then cursing herself for having voluntarily increased the pain by doing so, she got up and stumbled into the bathroom. A fifteen-minute shower, with the water as hot as she could stand, helped her stiffness significantly and she began to believe that she could get through the day. Be grateful you’re alive … be grateful Jamie’s alive … be grateful Caitlin’s alive … She repeated the mantra while she got dressed; then, just as she started for the stairs, she stopped abruptly and crossed back over to the bed.

  Gazing at her sleeping partner made the words of gratitude resonate within her, and she felt her headache ease just a bit. "Thank you, God," she whispered, then kissed the tips of her fingers and gently brushed her partner’s cheek. "Thank you."

  It was after nine when she shuffled into the dining room to find Martin, Maeve, Brendan, Conor, Kevin, and a very wide-awake looking Mia enjoying a leisurely breakfast together. "Well, well, well," she said with a reasonably lifelike smile, "what do we have here?"

  "There’s my precious one," Martin said, rising to greet her. He wrapped her in a hug that threatened to last the better part of the day, finally pulling away only to draw her close again and place a flurry of kisses on her still-wet hair. "Where’s Jamie, love?"

  "I let her stay in bed. Every time I woke up, those big, green eyes were staring at me. I bet she didn’t get two hours of sleep."

  "I imagine Caitlin’s the only one who had a good night’s rest," he said. "Sometimes it pays to be largely unaware of the ways of the world."

  "I’m all for that," Ryan sighed. She slowly made her way around the table, giving a kiss on the head to all. Then she sat down, trying not to wince when she did so, but every pair of eyes was intently focused on her and she was unable to hide her discomfort. "Anybody know where I put those muscle relaxants?" she asked, deciding she was wasting her energies in trying to put up a front. She dropped her head into her hands and muttered, "Thank God Coach Hayes gave us two days off. I don’t think I could run 25 laps for missing practice today."

  "How bad is it?" Maeve asked, reaching out to brush her fingers across Ryan’s cheek.

  She shrugged her shoulders, flinching as she did so. "I’ll be okay," she said. "I’m just stiff and sore. Nothing permanent."

  "Headache?" Maeve persisted.

  "Mmm … more than that," she said, smiling thinly. "This one needs its own title. What’s bigger than an ache?"

  Mia got up from her chair and stood behind Ryan. "Close your eyes," she said, then began to work at the rigid muscles in her neck. She looked up at Martin while she worked, and asked, "Do you have an ice bag?"

  "Of course." He got up and poked around looking for his daughter’s medication and returned a few moments later with the bottle of pills and the ice.

  In a matter of minutes, Ryan’s head had dropped and she began to moan with pleasure. "You’re good at this. It’s really helping."

  "Take your pill," Mia said, pausing in her ministrations while Ryan did so.

  As soon as she placed her glass back on the table, Mia started in again, working gently until Ryan said, "It’s better now, thanks." Mia stopped her massage and took the ice bag, using it to give Ryan’s head and neck a rather vigorous rub. "That feels so much better," Ryan said, her voice a little brighter.

  The curly-haired woman leaned over and kissed the top of her head and Ryan slowly opened her eyes, only to see her brothers and her cousin all gazing at Mia like a trio of does.

  "Now I see why you like living in Berkeley," Martin said. "You have two women to tend to you."

  "It takes at least two, Martin," Mia said seriously. "She’s very high maintenance. Jordan used to take a shift too, and since she’s gone Jamie and I have to work doubly hard."

  Ordinarily, Ryan would have risen to the bait and lobbed a comment back, but she didn’t have the energy this morning, so she just smiled placidly. "I’m so out of it, I barely noticed what time it is," she said. "What got you up so early on Christmas Eve morning, Mia?"

  "It must be the aura of the house," she said with a laugh. "I was wide awake at 8:30. Of course, it might have been that your dog was hogging the entire bed. I only got about two inches of mattress to sleep on."

  Ryan gave her a sheepish look and said, "We should have left our door open. Sorry about that."

  "I didn’t mind," she said. "He’s really very sweet. So what’s on the agenda for today? I’m happy to help out in any way I can."

  "Hmm … we need a lot," Ryan began thoughtfully, but the ringing phone interrupted her. Still in her press secretary mode, Mia hopped up and spoke just a few words into the receiver before she got an absolutely stunned look on her face. She looked like she might drop the phone, so Ryan walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Mia extended the phone like it was a snake, and gasped out, "It’s the President!"

  Ryan scowled at the phone, and lifted it from Mia’s weak grasp. "Yes?"

  "Ms. O’Flaherty?’

  "Yes."

  "This is Joe Lockhart, President Clinton’s press secretary."

  "Go on," she said, suspicious of the authenticity of the call.

  "President Clinton wants to say a few words to you and Ms. Evans, congratulating you on your heroic deeds of last night."

  "Okay …" she drawled. "Put him on."

  "All right. It’ll take a minute, we need to make sure all of the hook-ups are in place …"

  "Hook-ups?"

  "Yes, CNN wants to run the audio …"

  "No thanks," she said quickly. "If he wants to talk to us, that’s fine; but I have no intention of your using this call for political purposes."

  There was a rather stunned silence before he managed to get out, "I’m sorry, Ms. O’Flaherty. I just assumed that Senator Evans would want you to …"

  "Are you calling
Senator Evans?" she asked. "Because if you are, you’ve got the wrong number …"

  "No! The President sincerely wants to congratulate you both, Ms. O’Flaherty. I know you and Ms. Evans are registered Democrats, and …"

  "Don’t make assumptions about me, Mr. Lockhart. I’d be happy to talk to the President, but I will not allow our conversation to be broadcast. Period."

  "But surely it couldn’t hurt …"

  "Look, Mr. Lockhart, I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass, but you’re pushing my buttons. I was in high school when Mr. Clinton ran for office. I worked my tail off canvassing and volunteering in his San Francisco office. The gay community up here supported him unequivocally, mainly because of his promise to support gay rights, and repeal the ban on gays in military service. And after all of our efforts in providing seed money to get his campaign moving, his first major act is to come up with that bullshit ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ crap. Are you aware that there are more cases of dishonorable discharge for consensual gay acts now than there were during the Bush Administration?"

  "Ahh … let me get back to you, Ms. O’Flaherty. Maybe a nice letter of commendation would be more to your liking."

  "That’s fine; but I’m warning you, don’t sent it to CNN first, or I’ll give them my opinion of a man who uses his power to have sex with an employee on government property during a working day!"

  "Congratulations again, Ms. O’Flaherty. Nice talking to you."

  "I just bet it was," she smirked as she placed the phone down and stared at the six sets of eyes that were staring back at her. "He pisses me off!" she said as she sat down to eat.

  The rest of the family was not nearly so cavalier about the President’s call, and it took quite a while for the buzz of excitement to die down. "Well, that was one way to get the heart racing," Martin said. "Not that we’ve been in need of that type of thing recently. We’ve got some practical matters to take care of, now. Which one of you will go pick up Rory at the airport?"

  "No can do," Conor replied. "The three of us," he said, pointing to Kevin and Brendan, "are going to Sacred Heart to install those lights."

  "I guess that leaves me," Ryan said, realizing as the words came out of her mouth that she had planned on tricking Mia into going to the airport to pick up Jordan.

  "Nonsense," Martin said. "You’re not in any shape to even think about it."

  "Let me go," Mia said.

  "Sure you don’t mind?" Ryan asked.

  "Not a bit. I’m really happy to help out."

  "Superb," Ryan said, the plans falling into place neatly, although inadvertently. "Hey, you can forge Jamie’s signature, can’t you?"

  "Sure can," Mia said, giving her a sly smile. "I haven’t gotten yours down yet, but we can both do each other’s. Why?"

  "Don’t bother learning mine," Ryan said. "I’m proprietary over it."

  Mia wrinkled up her nose and Ryan continued, "Jamie’s so tied to her phone that she’s gonna stress without it. Would you be willing to go pick us up a couple of replacements? You know our numbers, and I’d really like to be able to keep them, so make sure you go to our current provider. I’ll write down all the details for you."

  "Okay, but why do I need to forge Jamie’s signature?"

  "Because I’m going to give you her charge card to pay for them. Is that cool?"

  "Sure. No problem. I’ll run by the house and get some clothes for tonight, get the phones and then go pick up your brother. Let me just sneak downstairs and swipe some clean clothes from Jamie, and I’ll be off."

  She got up and started to leave, but Ryan caught her by the sleeve, tugging her over to wrap her in a hug. "Thanks. I’m just not up to driving today."

  Mia kissed her head and leaned over to whisper, "I really appreciate that you’re letting me help out, Ryan. It makes me feel like part of the family."

  "You are," she said, giving her a warm smile and another hug.

  As soon as Mia was out of earshot, Ryan turned to her brothers and said, "Thanks for the set-up, guys. Now Mia will really be surprised when she gets to the airport and finds out that she’s picking up Jordan. Problem is, we still have to go get Rory. Any takers?"

  When Mia entered the Berkeley house, she saw that messages filled the answering machine to capacity so that it had stopped accepting new ones. She called the O’Flaherty house and asked Ryan if she’d like to hear them all. Surprisingly, Ryan declined. "I’ll call back and change the greeting. I’m gonna turn it off if you don’t mind. I’ll ask people we know to call all of us on our cells."

  "That’s fine," Mia said.

  Ryan dialed the number, cleared her throat, and changed the greeting. "Hi, this is Ryan. Thanks for all of the nice wishes we’ve received. Feel free to call any of us on our cell phones. If you don’t have those numbers, please call back in a couple of weeks. You can’t leave a message, so don’t try. Have a good day."

  After she hung up, Ryan started to go back downstairs, but her father stopped her. "What do you need from us today, love?"

  She gazed at him for a moment and said, "I think we need some time to rest. Neither of us slept well at all. Thankfully, Jamie’s making up for that now," she said, noting that it was after 10.

  "How’s the head?"

  "It’s better. I guess you can’t cry that much in a single day and not get a headache. Getting some fluids down seems to have helped."

  "I’ll clear the house if you want quiet, Siobhan. We can take Duffy back with us."

  "No." She shook her head and slipped her arms around her father. "I’d like you and Aunt Maeve to stay, to be honest. I feel better when you’re close."

  He kissed her forehead and said, "I feel better when you’re close to me, too. We’ll make some cookies." With a frown furrowing his brow, he asked, "Do you want to go ahead and have the family over for Christmas Eve? We can cancel if it’s too much."

  "No! I’d like things to stay as normal as possible, Da. Keeping everything familiar will really help."

  "Familiar it is," he said. He reached down and swatted her rather hard on the seat, chuckling at her outraged squawk. "As long as I’m acting normal, I can’t let you go unpunished for disrespecting the President!"

  Merely eating a light breakfast had thoroughly worn Ryan out, and she went back downstairs, hoping for a long nap. Jamie hadn’t moved, still curled up on her right side with her open hand resting under her cheek. Ryan felt a need to watch her for a bit, and since she was so stiff herself, she rolled her desk chair over so she didn’t have to bend.

  She observed her partner for a long time, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, noting how her eyes darted rapidly under her eyelids. There were faint smudges of blue beneath her eyes, and her color was on the pale side, but other than that, she looked remarkably well. Ryan let her mind wander, and she recalled that it was only 24 hours ago that she’d come home to surprise her lover in the middle of a mesmerizing dance. That could have been the last time we ever made love, she sighed to herself. The last time we ever held each other while we slept. Shivering roughly, she reached out and let the backs of her fingers barely graze the soft cheek, gasping when Jamie’s eyes flew open and she sat up abruptly. Bloodshot green eyes darted around the room while she tried to orient herself. "What happened?" she panted, out of breath.

  Ryan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and soothed, "It’s okay, love. I’m sorry for waking you."

  "What …?"

  "I touched your cheek," Ryan said. "Really softly … just the way I always do. But it frightened you and you woke up."

  "Oh." Jamie lowered herself onto the mattress, taking in a sharp breath when her bruised ribs reminded her of the unkind treatment they had suffered the night before. "S’okay." Her eyes closed again and she murmured, "Hold me?"

  Ryan slipped off her clothing and got into bed, wrapping both arms around her lover, while whispering endearments to her. "Sleep now, sweetheart. You’re safe." Her soothing words also calmed her own racing heart, and s
oon they were both asleep again, wrapped around each other tightly.

  A horrifically realistic dream woke Ryan not long after they had dozed off. She held her partner so tightly that Jamie was unable to take a deep breath, and she only released her frantic grasp when the smaller woman began to struggle. Burying her wet face against her lover’s neck, Ryan started to cry softly. "I’m sorry," she rasped out. "I’m so sorry I hurt you."

  "It’s okay, sweetheart," Jamie soothed, turning to hold her. "You had a bad dream. It’s okay now." She trailed her hand through Ryan’s hair, whispering to her the whole while. "Go back to sleep now."

  "No," Ryan mumbled. "I don’t wanna. I’m afraid I’ll have the dream again."

  The smaller woman stroked Ryan’s hair for a few minutes, trying to wake up. From the tense set of Ryan’s posture, it was clear she was unable to relax again, so Jamie finally sighed, "Okay, we should get up anyway. I’m sure there are things we should be doing."

  "No, everything’s taken care of," Ryan said. "Mia’s out running some errands for us. I told Da we needed to sleep today."

  "I should call my parents," Jamie said. "I need to make sure Mother’s all right." She sat up and looked up at the dresser, a puzzled look on her face.

  "Mia’s going to get us new cell phones," Ryan said, noting her puzzlement.

  "Damn! That thing’s a part of me. I guess I remember how to use a land line." She got up and called her mother’s home, frowning when no one answered. "She’s not home," she said. "I’ll call my dad and see if he knows what’s up." His phone also rang for a while until the answering machine picked up. "I don’t remember his cell phone number," she said, scowling. "I had it programmed in my cell phone."

  "Maybe they called here," Ryan said. "Let me go check."

  "No, let me. I should get a little something in my stomach, anyway."

  "I’ll make you breakfast," Ryan said. "It’ll do me good to stretch a little."

  "Is your father still here?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "No way you’re taking his spot in the kitchen, love. That’s his domain."