Part 11

Gillian settled down onto Cal's couch, completely alone now for the first time in days. And she let herself cry. No sobs, just quiet tears of exhaustion and strain, tears for Cal, for Emily and for herself. Tears for waiting tensely with no end in sight. Tears for missing Cal terribly, even though she spent hours with him every day. Tears because right here and right now, she didn't have to be strong, not for herself or anyone else.

Slowly the tears dried, leaving her with sore eyes and a clearer mind. One way or another, in the past few days, Gillian's frame of reference had shifted. No longer just Gillian watching Cal struggling to heal, they had somehow become us in her mind. We, as in we will get through this. As a teen, she'd been a little disdainful of her Aunt Mary, who'd never used the singular in referring to either herself or Uncle Bud. It had always been we or us. The fact they were married hadn't made them a single person, she'd scoffed. She'd never felt or wanted that kind of relationship with Alec. Or understood it, until now.

It wasn't dependence, not really. Gillian knew herself to be a strong, capable woman. She'd taken life's hard knocks and hadn't yet let them break her. It was more a blending of abilities and strengths, weaknesses and failings to become more together than they could be apart. They each had their roles, but she felt united in striving for the goal. He had been her rock to cling to in bad weather. So she had been and would continue to be his. Her part now included consulting with the doctors, making decisions he couldn't, looking out for the people he loved, all in a way she hoped he would have approved. His part included healing a little more each day. What he needed or would have wanted had become what she needed.

But how would she cope if Cal couldn't do his part? Lurching up off the couch, she shuffled into the kitchen. She shoved a cup of water in the microwave and pulled a tin of herbal tea from the cupboard. She thought about a mind trick her Grandmother Al had taught her. Instead of fretting about an unpleasant circumstances, look at the worst that could happen, analyze it, decide a rational course of action and then let it go.

So…the worst that could happen…Cal would die. No that wasn't really the worst, was it? No, the worst would be that Cal had brain damage severe enough to leave him in a vegetative state. But she knew his feeling on that. When they had prepared the power of attorney for each other, they had both done medical directives. She knew what he wanted but could she do it? Yes, she was strong enough to let him go, to set him free. No one wanted to make a decision like that, but she could if she had to.

But the doctors said the chance of that was becoming vanishingly remote. So far, he'd shown no signs of brain damage. So the next worse, he succumbed to one of the hundreds of possible complications. Even the thought of it left Gillian empty. But she would somehow survive. She might never completely heal, but she would still have the memories of them together. Tears and regrets and memories.

What if he healed but wanted no part of a more intimate relationship with her? Could she settle for what they had right now? If she had to, she decided. After all, hadn't the last fifteen years shown her that just being Cal's partner and best friend could make her incredible happy? And angry and thrilled, and frustrated and delighted. Also she wasn't completely in the dark about Cal's feeling for her. Since her divorce, subtle and not so subtle changes appeared in their outward expression. Hugs and touches had always been part of their rapport, but now the hugs were tighter, the touches becoming more caresses and the kisses straying closer to mouths. She caught him checking her out more than once and sometime he didn't even try to hide it. She felt he'd been testing the water, biding his time, until she, so fresh from a divorce, was ready to make the next step.

What if they took that next step and totally mucked it up? God knew, their first attempts at marriage were total disasters. Could she live with a man who saw every reaction, who would leave her no secrets? In the past, they'd been able to compromise and find rules they both could live with. Could they do the same thing in a more intimate connection? Would the risks be worth the possible reward?

The doorbell interrupted her musing. Who could be at the door at…she glanced at the clock…eleven o'clock at night? Gillian could think of only one person…ohh, no.

Opening the door, she greeted, "Hello, Zoe. What do you want?"

Zoe raised her hands. "I'm not here to fight. In fact, I owe you an apology. Can I come in?"

Gillian's mouth gaped open and she shut it with an effort. "I guess." She stood back from the entrance.

Taking a few steps into the living room, Zoe stopped, her back still to the door. "I was out of line in the hospital. I'm sorry. You had enough to worry about without me…" She turned to face Gillian. I'm sorry."

No words came to Gillian.

"I know," the corner of the woman's mouth curled up slightly. "You've probably never heard those words from my mouth before." She gestured at the couch. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure." Gillian grabbed Zoe's coat to have something to do in her confusion. Back in the living room, she sank into Cal's favorite recliner.

"I want to thank you for looking after Emily so well, too. "

Gill's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. "She's a good kid."

"The best," Zoe agreed. "We had a really good talk tonight, Emily and I. About a lot of things. One of the things is why I couldn't be there for her after the accident. I think I'd like you to know, too."

"You care what I think?" Gillian was still mystified.

"For some reason I find that I do." Zoe shrugged "Maybe the future will be easier if we're not at each other's throats all the time. Did Cal ever tell you about my father?"

"Just that he'd died when you were a teenager."

"Yeah," Zoe's features tightened. "In fact, I was about Emily's age right now when he was diagnosed. Leukemia."

"Oh, no," Gillian winced.

"Two years it took that damned disease to kill him. Chemo the first five months. In and out of the hospital, mostly in. They got him in remission. Six months, time enough that we thought maybe he'd really beaten it. Then he relapsed. More hospital stays, more chemo. Another remission but shorter this time. Finally he got pneumonia and he didn't have anything left to fight it."

Moving to the couch, Gillian touched the other woman's wrist. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate hospitals!" Zoe hissed. "I can't go in there and spend hours with Cal like that. I just can't."

"It's okay. I understand. Cal would too."

Brushing angrily at her tears, Zoe shook her head. "Maybe that's why I couldn't love Cal the way he deserved. I could never go through that again, not for anybody. Perhaps that makes me a coward but I couldn't do it again without breaking."

No words could help, so Gillian offered what physical comfort she could. Zoe allowed the hug for a few moments, then retreated.

"I should be going," she stood. "I'll drop Emily off at the hospital in the morning, if you can drop her off on your way back."

"Sure," Gillian agreed.

"I want her back in school on Monday, though. I don't want her getting too far behind. She can drive over to the hospital herself if she wants."

"Thank you, Zoe."

"Don't thank me." The taller woman shrugged. "You know I couldn't keep her away, even if I wanted to."

"No, I mean…"

Zoe cut her off, "Yeah." Then her smile softened and for a moment Gillian could see why Cal fell in love with her. "Keep me informed, okay. I still care about him."

"I will. You have the number at the hospital, right? You can call anytime."

"Take good care of him."