“Where are you from?” KT asked, struck by the barest hint of an accent underlying Pia’s mellifluous voice.

Pia stopped abruptly in the midst of explaining the theory and practice of dynamic splinting. “Right here in Provincetown.”

“Really?” KT barely noticed as Pia began to disengage the elastic bands attached to the ends of her fingers that protected them from unexpected motion.

“Mmm-hmm,” Pia said as she worked carefully and efficiently to remove the Orthoplast splint. “My father was a fisherman, descended from some of the original Portuguese settlers. My brother still goes out on a fishing boat every day. My mother came here for the summer with her family thirty-five years ago, met my father at a party one night, and never left.”

“I take it she was weal ah, damn.” KT flinched as a muscle in her forearm spasmed and an electric shock stabbed through her hand.

“What?” Pia asked quickly.

“Paresthesias,” KT grunted, referring to the abnormal sensations commonly experienced after a nerve has been severed or badly injured. In the last few days, she had started to experience pins and needles, shooting pains, burning discomfort in her fingertips, and all other manner of abnormal nerve discharge as the damaged nerves in her hand attempted to heal. While in one respect it was encouraging, because it meant that the nerves in her fingers were starting to regenerate, the unexpected and often severe pain was wearing.

“It’s about time for that.” Pia cradled KT’s hand in both of hers, examining the location of the incision, the texture of the skin, the condition of the muscles, and the adequacy of the blood supply to the injured fingers. She gently traced her fingertips over the healing laceration. “This looks good.”

KT stared at the slightly raised, thick red ridge across her palm, remembering the instant when she’d held her hand out to ward off the blow and had felt the knife slice to the bone. She shivered and fought down a wave of nausea. “Yes. It’s coming along.”

“You understand that for the next few weeks we’ll simply be concentrating on range of motion and scar desensitization. You can’t flex your fingers actively or attempt any resistive exercises. The tendon repairs are still far too delicate to risk rupture.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Pia said with a smile. “I’m going to range each digit now. I’m sure the joints are stiff, so you can expect a little bit of discomfort.” She cocked her head and studied KT’s face. She was pale. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“I…uh…” Caught off guard, KT fumbled for an answer.

“These first few sessions are going to be difficult. It’s been my experience that you will tolerate therapy much better if you’re rested and not otherwise stressed. Breakfast…” She stopped when she saw KT smile. KT’s lips were full and sensuous, and her smile might have been beautiful had it not been curved ever so subtly downward with bitterness. “What?”

“I was thinking about stress, I’m starting a temporary job at the East End Health Clinic today. It’s not what I’m trained to do, but it’s all that I can do. My hand is completely dysfunctional and might not improve significantly. I may never operate again. Somehow, I don’t think a bagel is going to help.”

“Yes,” Pia said calmly. “I suppose you might be right.” She held KT’s eyes, her own gentle and without reproach. “But we won’t know until we try, will we?”

We. It wasn’t a concept that KT was used to contemplating. Even when she’d been in a long-term relationship, she’d always felt as if she were doing battle alone, Tory had supported her in her quest, but there had been only so much she could do to help. When it came down to succeeding or failing, the outcome had always rested squarely on KT’s shoulders. KT stared at her hand still resting between Pia’s long, deceptively delicate fingers. Her own hand, lifeless and pale, looked forlorn nearly as forlorn as she felt. Nevertheless, Pia’s darker, stronger fingers appeared capable. More than capable. Certain and sure. KT felt a flicker of hope and raised her eyes to Pia’s, “I promise not to show up again on an empty stomach.”

“Good.” Pia resumed her gentle ministrations and, as she carefully massaged and manipulated the stiff joints in KT’s fingers, continued the interrupted conversation. “My mother was a society debutante, I guess you could say. She’d just had her coming-out party the summer she arrived here.” Pia laughed. “She always says she hated that party, but was glad she’d gone because it gave her a pretty good idea of the kind of man she didn’t want to marry.”

KT smiled. “I guess your father wasn’t one of those guys.”

“No,” Pia agreed quietly. “He wasn’t.” She reached for the splint and set about reconnecting KT’s fingers to the elastic bands and attaching the Velcro straps that held it around her wrist and palm. “You can take this off to shower. You probably already are. Be careful when the hand is unprotected.”

“What kind of exercises can I do at home?”

Pia shook her head. “None for now.” She caught the not-unexpected flicker of irritation cross KT’s face, noting as she had the first time she’d seen her how extraordinarily good looking she was. Anger didn’t diminish her appeal. It only made her look wilder, and a little dangerous. The fact that Pia found any of those things attractive surprised her, but she pushed the thought aside and said firmly, “It’s too soon. You’ll only delay the healing.”

“All right. I get the message.”

“If you cheat, I’ll know.”

KT felt the words like a blow and forced herself not to recoil. Then she admonished herself for the ridiculous reaction. Pia didn’t know her. Didn’t know a single thing about her. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Dr. O’Bannon,” Pia said mildly as she rose to show KT to the door. Out on the porch, she instructed KT to come again the following day at the same time.

As KT made her way slowly down the flagstone path toward Commercial Street, she felt Pia’s gaze upon her back. Before she turned left to head into town, she glanced back toward the cottage. The tiny porch was empty. She felt a pang of loneliness, but this time there was a pleasant edge to it. It was the kind of missing that comes of having enjoyed someone’s company and being disappointed to have that time come to an end.

For the first time in a long time, KT occupied herself with pleasant memories as she walked.

Chapter Twelve

Tory looked up in surprise as Reese walked in the back door shortly after 10 a.m..

“Hi, honey,” Tory said. “Slow morning?” Reese had left for work over three hours before.

“Quiet enough.” Reese quickly crossed the room and leaned to kiss Tory lightly on the mouth. Then she sidled around her, plucked Regina from her infant seat, swung her carefully into the air, and kissed her cheek. “Mmm, you smell good,” she murmured before glancing back at Tory. “I thought I’d take this one over to the grandmoms.”

“You didn’t have to leave work to do that. I was going to drop her off on my way to the clinic.” On my way to see KT. All through the morning’s preparation, including feeding and battling the baby, showering and dressing herself, and reviewing the preliminary work shift schedule she’d put together hastily the evening before, she’d thought about spending part of the day with KT. It was so unbelievable as to be impossible to absorb. More than six years had passed since they’d spent any personal time together, six years that reverberated still with all the things left unspoken between them.

“Nervous?” Reese asked gently.

Tory gave a small start, then shook her head with a wistful smile. “You are frighteningly perceptive, Sheriff.”

Holding the baby against her shoulder with one hand, Reese efficiently gathered together bottles, diapers, a change of clothing, and the sundry other items required for the day’s outing. She just as proficiently organized everything in a plastic carryall. “You didn’t sleep very well last night. You tossed and turned a lot.” She hefted the bag in her right hand and regarded Tory tenderly. “I figured you were worried.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you awake. I”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Reese bounced Regina on her shoulder softly when the baby began to fret. “I think she’s ready for a ride in the cruiser.” She tilted her head and regarded the baby seriously. “What do you think, huh? Lights and sirens?”

Tory took the carryall from Reese and set it aside. Then she wrapped her arms around Reese’s waist and rested her head on the opposite shoulder from their daughter. “I think she’d love it, but Nelson might object to you going Code 3 on the way through town to Grandmoms’.”

“He’ll never know.”

“In Provincetown? Please.” Tory kissed Reese’s neck. “It wouldn’t take five minutes.”

Reese grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. Besides, I should wait until she’s a little bigger so she’ll really enjoy it.”

“So why did you really come home this morning?”

“You don’t believe the part about me wanting to take the baby to my mother’s?”

“Oh, I believe that.” Tory snuggled closer. “It’s exactly the sweet kind of thing that you would do. But it’s Saturday morning on one of the busiest weekends of the year, and you’re on duty. So what are you doing here, Sheriff?”

“I just thought you might be having a rough day,” Reese said quietly.

“And you wanted to check?” Tory asked just as softly. She didn’t need to hear the answer, she knew. She rubbed her cheek against the stiff fabric of Reese’s uniform shirt, taking comfort from the simple strength of it, so like Reese. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

Reese kissed Tory’s forehead. “I knew you would be. I stopped by for me.”

Tory lifted her head and regarded Reese somberly. “Are you all right?”