Netherworld
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart
CATEGORY: Drama/AU
SPOILERS: First episodes of Season 10; the rest is all in my head.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. This does not preclude me from playing with them, their psyches, their fates, and their futures.
SUMMARY: A postcard from Carter finds its way to Abby with startling news. Abby cries. Eric sighs. Also, Abby reconnects with Luka, but wonders who is Gillian?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is for Mrs. Eyre, whose review kept me going. I'm pretty damned hard over on Luka myself.
ARCHIVE: Just ask.
Chapter 4. Everything Must Go
"Talk about the famous road not taken/In the end we never took it/And if somewhere on the way/We got a few good licks in/No one's ever gonna know/'Cause we're goin' out of business/Everything must go"
Juggling her keys, the mail, a bag of groceries, and her purse, Abby made a valiant effort to unlock the apartment door. Just put something down, she thought in exasperation, but was eventually able to jam the key in the lock, turn the knob, and enter the apartment with groceries, letters, and purse intact.
"Eric?" she called out, but there was no response. Must still be at work. Good, it would give her time to make a cup of coffee and relax. After a month of graveyard shifts, she was back on day shifts again and her body had not quite made the adjustment. Setting the groceries and mail on the kitchen counter, she went through the familiar moves of making coffee, deep in thought.
It had been six months since she and her brother had arrived in Seattle. In that time, both had managed to get jobs-she at a city hospital, he at a local REI outlet. Eric had been true to his word and followed through his rehabilitation, and was doing very well. He had made a number of friends in the program, which had led to his job at the outdoor outfitters. A combination of medication, hard outdoor activity, and growing friendships had helped to heal her brother, and she constantly marveled at the change in him.
He was doing so well. He had found a niche-he loved the cool, rainy weather of Seattle, the beautiful views and youthful population, even the horrible traffic. He could hop in a car and be in the Cascades in an hour or so, hiking or rock climbing or surfing. And she was doing better as well, truth be told. It had been a year since she'd had a drink or a cigarette. And hiking had improved her stamina, firmed her muscles, and helped her sleep better at night.
In spite of her improved physical and mental states, Abby still felt out of place. She was no nature girl, and she felt older than dirt when she met Eric and his friends for a meal or a hike, or when he dragged her along to a jazz club or party. She had nothing in common with this city, but she stayed because Eric loved it and she couldn't quite let him out of her sight. Not yet.
Best of all, she had finally gotten good news from Chicago. She hugged it to her like a good talisman. Susan had called several weeks ago to announce that Luka had been found-Carter had returned to Africa and been successful in finding him, against fairly insurmountable odds. Luka was back home, malnourished and ill, but alive. Alive! Maybe all of those prayers had produced enough good karma to get him home, Abby thought hopefully. Since she had heard the news, Luka had been foremost in her thoughts. She hoped his health was improving, and wondered how he was getting on with his life.
Susan had also informed her that Carter had met a woman in Africa who had followed him back to Chicago. According to Susan, it was the coffee mess topic of conversation at County General; they were pretty serious about each other. Good for him, Abby thought idly, picking up the mail to thumb through. He's moved on.
She glanced through the assortment of bills and advertisements, and started to set the pile down when she noticed a postcard. She stared at the glossy photo of a deserted beach and Tiki hut and the words "Greetings from Tahiti!" scrolled on top of the card in bright purple ink. Who in the world did she know taking a trip to Tahiti, she wondered idly. Not Maggie. Was Susan vacationing again? Flipping the card over, she quickly scanned the signature, absolutely started, and read the message, first quickly then again more slowly, in disbelief.
"Hi Abby, Susan told me you had settled down with Eric in Seattle and that both of you are doing well. I wanted to let you know that I am engaged- amazing, huh? I met Deborah in Africa earlier this year. One thing led to another, and the rest as they say is history. Anyway, here we are in Tahiti enjoying a little R&R. We hope to marry early next year. Take care, John Carter"
Abby continued to stare at the postcard in shock. Whatever had possessed him to send her a postcard from Tahiti with casual news of his engagement? And what had led him to string together so many pitiful clichés to tell her the news in the breeziest way possible? Christ, why didn't he just send me an invitation to the wedding, Abby thought, as anger and hurt blossomed inside of her. I could have given him away.
She gazed at the photo of the pristine beach, the perfectly placed palm tree, the sugar-colored sand and cerulean sea. Why did he send it? To hurt her? To bring closure to their relationship? Or to taunt her so she would realize the prize that she had lost? Anger mobilized her. "I don't want to think about you anymore, John Carter, so go get married and have your honeymoon with your wife and live happily ever after and leave me the hell alone," she spat as she moved quickly to the sink.
She stuffed the postcard down the kitchen drain, turned on the water, and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. With grim satisfaction, she watched the card disappear, the palm trees and sandy beach crumpling and turning dark, then disappearing down the black hole into the sewers of Seattle. "I wish I could jam your bony ass down there, too," she shouted after it.
She heard a small sound and looked up. Eric stood in the kitchen entrance, gaping at her. "Whose bony ass?" he asked in bewilderment.
She opened her mouth to reply and burst into tears. "Oh, Eric," she wailed, "Carter is engaged."
"Aw, honey," Eric crooned, "I am so sorry." He pulled her into his arms and let her cry for several minutes, rocking her back and forth. As she continued to cry, he rubbed her back. "But this shouldn't be such a shock to you. It's not as if you two were still in a relationship. You told me yourself numerous times that you two were done."
"I know, I know. I don't love him anymore, really I don't, but it hurts to hear that he's moved on while I'm standing still." Abby stepped back from him and pulled herself together, wiping her face on his shirt.
"Aw, Abs, I wish there were something I could do. Want me to crash the wedding and knock the cake over?"
She burst out laughing at him, and hiccupped. "Or pee in the punch bowl? Why is it we have so many memories like that?" She smiled fondly at her younger brother, then sobered and slapped her palm against his chest. "God, Eric, maybe it's time I moved on with my life and stopped tagging along with you."
"Sister dearest, you can live with me for the rest of your life if you'd like, you know that. I just think you'd be happier somewhere else." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. While she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, he busied himself pouring a cup of coffee. "Tell the truth," he continued, "Seattle isn't exactly your cup of tea, is it?"
"I'm fine, here. Really." She smiled reassuringly at him. "And what would you do without me to make you coffee?"
Eric gazed at her, holding the hot mug of coffee between both hands. "I'd read the instructions on the bag of coffee, or call the Starbucks' hotline. Seriously, I'm better now, Abby. You know it as well as I do. You don't need to stay here and hold my hand anymore."
She smiled at him fondly. "I know. But it's hard to let go."
He smiled in turn. "Well, Mommy, it's time for the little bird to knock the Momma Bird out of the nest." His smile faded and he continued to gaze at her. "You have your own life to live, and we both know it isn't here with me. Although I hope you visit me as much as you can."
She stepped toward him and cupped his face in both her hands. "You can count on it."
***** Abby couldn't sleep-a restless energy possessed her, and she knew why. Her life had finally been scrubbed clean of emotional entanglements. She and Eric had reached an understanding that afternoon. She would start to look for a job in another city as soon as possible. She would stay with Eric while she searched, giving them a bit more time together. But both realized it was time for her to move on.
She sat on the sofa and pulled her legs beneath her. Carter had moved on as well, leaving their relationship behind. Now that her initial shock was over, she could let that go with little regret. They weren't right together; deep inside, she had always known they were too damned different. But she had fooled herself for awhile into thinking it might work. Now, it was definitely all over but the shouting.
But her relationship with Luka-now, that was another story. She was confused about what, if anything, was still between them. All she knew was that she needed to hear his voice, to know first hand that he was all right and that he hadn't forgotten her. She felt pulled toward him, like the tide to the shore. There was unfinished business between them, and she knew she wouldn't rest until she spoke with him.
Before she could overanalyze the situation and change her mind, she snatched up the phone and punched in the area code and familiar number. The phone rang three times, four times. She started to replace the receiver to avoid the horror of leaving a message when she heard his voice say sleepily, "Hello?"
She cleared her throat. "Hello, Luka?"
"Abby?" Luka raised himself up on one elbow in bed. He looked at the clock on the dresser, and registered that it was 1:00 a.m. "What is the matter?"
It hit her then that it was 2 hours later in Chicago. Oh, no, she thought with panic. "Oh, God, Luka, I'm sorry to call this time of night-I didn't take the time difference into account." She regretted giving into her impulse, and felt panicky. "I'm sorry, I'll call you back some other time."
"No, no, no, don't hang up." Luka's voice came sharply from the other end of the line. "I'm so glad you called. It's good to hear your voice. Are you all right?"
Abby was silent for a moment. She fleetingly thought, Carter would have asked me if I'd been drinking. And it would have been a good guess-once. But she was stone cold sober.
"I'm the one who should be asking you that question. How are you doing? You gave everyone a scare."
He shrugged, and cradled the receiver under his chin as he pushed the covers from his legs and swung to a seated position on the edge of the bed. "Including myself. But I am all right-and feel very lucky to be alive. Where are you calling from?" He slipped silently from the bed, and moved on bare feet into the living room.
"Seattle."
"Seattle?" He was fully awake now. "Why Seattle?"
She curled her legs under her on the wing chair in the living room. "Eric found a job here-he's working full time and really seems to love it." She smiled as she continued, "He's discovered the great outdoors and has joined a wilderness group that backpacks and canoes and rafts here, and in Canada and Alaska. He's thinking about becoming a part-time tour guide. He's really happy, Luka, and I think he finally feels at peace."
"Is he on his meds?"
"That's the best part-one of his coworkers is bipolar, and has been on medication for 8 years now. He's a poster child for healthy living, and swears that the meds and the physical activity are keeping him sane. Eric really respects him a lot, so he has been following Rick's lead."
"That's wonderful, Abby." Luka paused, feeling his way carefully. "And how about you? How are you doing?"
Abby laughed shortly. "I'm fine. I've been sober for eight months now, if that's what you're asking."
Luka responded mildly, "You know that wasn't what I meant."
Abby expelled a breath. "Yes, I do know. You never were judgmental, were you?" Unlike others, she thought.
"How are you, Abby? Have you made a life for yourself out there?"
"Sort of. I mean, I work and tag along with Eric and his friends and wait for the occasional sunny day. But," she shrugged, "it's not the life I want."
She continued briskly, "I'm thinking of moving on. Eric is so much better and has made a life for himself, so I think it's time I let him get on with it. I'm considering my options, but I've applied for a nursing position at several hospitals and should be hearing from them soon."
"Was Cook County one of those under consideration?"
Abby snorted. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no-you can't go home again, or at least I can't. My life there is over. Besides, I really don't think I could take Weaver again. Or having to work every day with some of my old coworkers." The unspoken question hung between them, but Luka understood as if she had shouted it over the phone line.
"Carter is at Northwestern now-he has a teaching position. And he's engaged to Deborah-did you hear about the young woman he met Africa?"
"Ah, yes, Deborah. She helped to get you out of Africa, didn't she?" For which I will be eternally grateful, she added silently. "Well, I sincerely hope Carter is happy." When Luka didn't respond, she added earnestly, "Really, I do. I want him to be happy. But as far as I'm concerned, that part of my life is over. I need to focus on what's the next chapter for me- I mean, Eric has been my project for so many months now that I found myself living one day at a time, right along with him. Now that he's better and ready to be on his own, well-" she flapped her hand helplessly, "I guess I need to figure our where I should go from here, and I've never been one to go backward."
"No, not you," Luka agreed quietly. She froze, suddenly recalling with vivid precision that night in Susan's bedroom the previous Christmas when Luka had told her that he missed her and caressed her arm. He had given her a snow globe that night, so lovely and magical, so perfect for a woman who had never received such a gift as a girl. So perfect that she had panicked.
Looking back, she remembered that she reacted in an ugly manner-bored and ungrateful when she opened the gift-to hide the rising panic that she felt. She realized at once that this Secret Santa gift was from Luka-who else would give her such a perfect, crystalline world that she could hold in the palm of her hand? She had felt an overwhelming need to distance herself from him, to push him away, to shove all of that old temptation away from her.
He had stood behind her in that stifling bedroom by the bed piled with coats, his eyes dark with sadness and longing. The gentle brush of his hand against her cheek was more than she could take. She had fled, practically knocking him down to get to Carter, who had appeared in the doorway.
Better to stay with Carter, who was safe and unthreatening. She may have been chaos to Carter, but Luka was chaos to her. Carter would never inspire the wild passions and intense grief that she had experienced with Luka. But being with Carter had never felt like going home, either.
And she wanted to go home. Problem was, Chicago wasn't home any more, and neither was Minnesota. Her mind abruptly registered the quiet on the telephone line, and she sensed Luka waiting patiently for her to continue the conversation. "I may stay here in Seattle, or I may move to San Francisco or San Antonio."
"Staying out west, huh," Luka remarked, surprised at the disappointment he felt at her answer. He knew she did not want to return to Chicago, but still he had hoped she might be closer. "Would you consider returning to Chicago for a visit? I would like to see you again, there are some things-"
"Luka," a sleepy voice called from his bedroom.
Abby felt her spine stiffen of its own volition. "Oh, God, Luka, you're not alone. I am so sorry."
"No, no," Luka said hastily, trying to reassure her. He wasn't ready to lose contact with her, not after all this time.
"I'll let you go-" She couldn't move or speak quickly enough to stave off the sense of shame or panic coursing through her.
"No, don't hang up yet, wait-"
But it was too late; Luka heard the dial tone in his ear and swore viciously. He hadn't even asked for a phone number to reach her.
"If you're going to swear," Gillian stated mildly, "have the courtesy to do it in a language that I can understand."
Abby whacked herself in the head with the phone receiver. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" God, why did she always assume he was alone? She now recalled Susan talking about the nurse from the Congo who had helped Carter find Luka, and how that nurse had returned to Chicago with Luka to help get him back on his feet. And had stayed to become part of his life, obviously. As always, my timing sucks, she thought bitterly.
She placed the phone carefully back on the table, and burst into tears.
"I was the forest for love songs/The one who can't love wrong/The one who won't fall/But will still write it down/I'm the one who would understand/Who listens with pen in hand/Everyone's shoulder/Till it's me who falls down"
First set of lyrics is Steely Dan, who just keep going and going. Second set is another Nanci Griffith song, "Nobody's Angel," from the Dust Bowl Symphony album. Get it. No kidding, if you're an incurable romantic, get it.
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart
CATEGORY: Drama/AU
SPOILERS: First episodes of Season 10; the rest is all in my head.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. This does not preclude me from playing with them, their psyches, their fates, and their futures.
SUMMARY: A postcard from Carter finds its way to Abby with startling news. Abby cries. Eric sighs. Also, Abby reconnects with Luka, but wonders who is Gillian?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is for Mrs. Eyre, whose review kept me going. I'm pretty damned hard over on Luka myself.
ARCHIVE: Just ask.
Chapter 4. Everything Must Go
"Talk about the famous road not taken/In the end we never took it/And if somewhere on the way/We got a few good licks in/No one's ever gonna know/'Cause we're goin' out of business/Everything must go"
Juggling her keys, the mail, a bag of groceries, and her purse, Abby made a valiant effort to unlock the apartment door. Just put something down, she thought in exasperation, but was eventually able to jam the key in the lock, turn the knob, and enter the apartment with groceries, letters, and purse intact.
"Eric?" she called out, but there was no response. Must still be at work. Good, it would give her time to make a cup of coffee and relax. After a month of graveyard shifts, she was back on day shifts again and her body had not quite made the adjustment. Setting the groceries and mail on the kitchen counter, she went through the familiar moves of making coffee, deep in thought.
It had been six months since she and her brother had arrived in Seattle. In that time, both had managed to get jobs-she at a city hospital, he at a local REI outlet. Eric had been true to his word and followed through his rehabilitation, and was doing very well. He had made a number of friends in the program, which had led to his job at the outdoor outfitters. A combination of medication, hard outdoor activity, and growing friendships had helped to heal her brother, and she constantly marveled at the change in him.
He was doing so well. He had found a niche-he loved the cool, rainy weather of Seattle, the beautiful views and youthful population, even the horrible traffic. He could hop in a car and be in the Cascades in an hour or so, hiking or rock climbing or surfing. And she was doing better as well, truth be told. It had been a year since she'd had a drink or a cigarette. And hiking had improved her stamina, firmed her muscles, and helped her sleep better at night.
In spite of her improved physical and mental states, Abby still felt out of place. She was no nature girl, and she felt older than dirt when she met Eric and his friends for a meal or a hike, or when he dragged her along to a jazz club or party. She had nothing in common with this city, but she stayed because Eric loved it and she couldn't quite let him out of her sight. Not yet.
Best of all, she had finally gotten good news from Chicago. She hugged it to her like a good talisman. Susan had called several weeks ago to announce that Luka had been found-Carter had returned to Africa and been successful in finding him, against fairly insurmountable odds. Luka was back home, malnourished and ill, but alive. Alive! Maybe all of those prayers had produced enough good karma to get him home, Abby thought hopefully. Since she had heard the news, Luka had been foremost in her thoughts. She hoped his health was improving, and wondered how he was getting on with his life.
Susan had also informed her that Carter had met a woman in Africa who had followed him back to Chicago. According to Susan, it was the coffee mess topic of conversation at County General; they were pretty serious about each other. Good for him, Abby thought idly, picking up the mail to thumb through. He's moved on.
She glanced through the assortment of bills and advertisements, and started to set the pile down when she noticed a postcard. She stared at the glossy photo of a deserted beach and Tiki hut and the words "Greetings from Tahiti!" scrolled on top of the card in bright purple ink. Who in the world did she know taking a trip to Tahiti, she wondered idly. Not Maggie. Was Susan vacationing again? Flipping the card over, she quickly scanned the signature, absolutely started, and read the message, first quickly then again more slowly, in disbelief.
"Hi Abby, Susan told me you had settled down with Eric in Seattle and that both of you are doing well. I wanted to let you know that I am engaged- amazing, huh? I met Deborah in Africa earlier this year. One thing led to another, and the rest as they say is history. Anyway, here we are in Tahiti enjoying a little R&R. We hope to marry early next year. Take care, John Carter"
Abby continued to stare at the postcard in shock. Whatever had possessed him to send her a postcard from Tahiti with casual news of his engagement? And what had led him to string together so many pitiful clichés to tell her the news in the breeziest way possible? Christ, why didn't he just send me an invitation to the wedding, Abby thought, as anger and hurt blossomed inside of her. I could have given him away.
She gazed at the photo of the pristine beach, the perfectly placed palm tree, the sugar-colored sand and cerulean sea. Why did he send it? To hurt her? To bring closure to their relationship? Or to taunt her so she would realize the prize that she had lost? Anger mobilized her. "I don't want to think about you anymore, John Carter, so go get married and have your honeymoon with your wife and live happily ever after and leave me the hell alone," she spat as she moved quickly to the sink.
She stuffed the postcard down the kitchen drain, turned on the water, and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. With grim satisfaction, she watched the card disappear, the palm trees and sandy beach crumpling and turning dark, then disappearing down the black hole into the sewers of Seattle. "I wish I could jam your bony ass down there, too," she shouted after it.
She heard a small sound and looked up. Eric stood in the kitchen entrance, gaping at her. "Whose bony ass?" he asked in bewilderment.
She opened her mouth to reply and burst into tears. "Oh, Eric," she wailed, "Carter is engaged."
"Aw, honey," Eric crooned, "I am so sorry." He pulled her into his arms and let her cry for several minutes, rocking her back and forth. As she continued to cry, he rubbed her back. "But this shouldn't be such a shock to you. It's not as if you two were still in a relationship. You told me yourself numerous times that you two were done."
"I know, I know. I don't love him anymore, really I don't, but it hurts to hear that he's moved on while I'm standing still." Abby stepped back from him and pulled herself together, wiping her face on his shirt.
"Aw, Abs, I wish there were something I could do. Want me to crash the wedding and knock the cake over?"
She burst out laughing at him, and hiccupped. "Or pee in the punch bowl? Why is it we have so many memories like that?" She smiled fondly at her younger brother, then sobered and slapped her palm against his chest. "God, Eric, maybe it's time I moved on with my life and stopped tagging along with you."
"Sister dearest, you can live with me for the rest of your life if you'd like, you know that. I just think you'd be happier somewhere else." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. While she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, he busied himself pouring a cup of coffee. "Tell the truth," he continued, "Seattle isn't exactly your cup of tea, is it?"
"I'm fine, here. Really." She smiled reassuringly at him. "And what would you do without me to make you coffee?"
Eric gazed at her, holding the hot mug of coffee between both hands. "I'd read the instructions on the bag of coffee, or call the Starbucks' hotline. Seriously, I'm better now, Abby. You know it as well as I do. You don't need to stay here and hold my hand anymore."
She smiled at him fondly. "I know. But it's hard to let go."
He smiled in turn. "Well, Mommy, it's time for the little bird to knock the Momma Bird out of the nest." His smile faded and he continued to gaze at her. "You have your own life to live, and we both know it isn't here with me. Although I hope you visit me as much as you can."
She stepped toward him and cupped his face in both her hands. "You can count on it."
***** Abby couldn't sleep-a restless energy possessed her, and she knew why. Her life had finally been scrubbed clean of emotional entanglements. She and Eric had reached an understanding that afternoon. She would start to look for a job in another city as soon as possible. She would stay with Eric while she searched, giving them a bit more time together. But both realized it was time for her to move on.
She sat on the sofa and pulled her legs beneath her. Carter had moved on as well, leaving their relationship behind. Now that her initial shock was over, she could let that go with little regret. They weren't right together; deep inside, she had always known they were too damned different. But she had fooled herself for awhile into thinking it might work. Now, it was definitely all over but the shouting.
But her relationship with Luka-now, that was another story. She was confused about what, if anything, was still between them. All she knew was that she needed to hear his voice, to know first hand that he was all right and that he hadn't forgotten her. She felt pulled toward him, like the tide to the shore. There was unfinished business between them, and she knew she wouldn't rest until she spoke with him.
Before she could overanalyze the situation and change her mind, she snatched up the phone and punched in the area code and familiar number. The phone rang three times, four times. She started to replace the receiver to avoid the horror of leaving a message when she heard his voice say sleepily, "Hello?"
She cleared her throat. "Hello, Luka?"
"Abby?" Luka raised himself up on one elbow in bed. He looked at the clock on the dresser, and registered that it was 1:00 a.m. "What is the matter?"
It hit her then that it was 2 hours later in Chicago. Oh, no, she thought with panic. "Oh, God, Luka, I'm sorry to call this time of night-I didn't take the time difference into account." She regretted giving into her impulse, and felt panicky. "I'm sorry, I'll call you back some other time."
"No, no, no, don't hang up." Luka's voice came sharply from the other end of the line. "I'm so glad you called. It's good to hear your voice. Are you all right?"
Abby was silent for a moment. She fleetingly thought, Carter would have asked me if I'd been drinking. And it would have been a good guess-once. But she was stone cold sober.
"I'm the one who should be asking you that question. How are you doing? You gave everyone a scare."
He shrugged, and cradled the receiver under his chin as he pushed the covers from his legs and swung to a seated position on the edge of the bed. "Including myself. But I am all right-and feel very lucky to be alive. Where are you calling from?" He slipped silently from the bed, and moved on bare feet into the living room.
"Seattle."
"Seattle?" He was fully awake now. "Why Seattle?"
She curled her legs under her on the wing chair in the living room. "Eric found a job here-he's working full time and really seems to love it." She smiled as she continued, "He's discovered the great outdoors and has joined a wilderness group that backpacks and canoes and rafts here, and in Canada and Alaska. He's thinking about becoming a part-time tour guide. He's really happy, Luka, and I think he finally feels at peace."
"Is he on his meds?"
"That's the best part-one of his coworkers is bipolar, and has been on medication for 8 years now. He's a poster child for healthy living, and swears that the meds and the physical activity are keeping him sane. Eric really respects him a lot, so he has been following Rick's lead."
"That's wonderful, Abby." Luka paused, feeling his way carefully. "And how about you? How are you doing?"
Abby laughed shortly. "I'm fine. I've been sober for eight months now, if that's what you're asking."
Luka responded mildly, "You know that wasn't what I meant."
Abby expelled a breath. "Yes, I do know. You never were judgmental, were you?" Unlike others, she thought.
"How are you, Abby? Have you made a life for yourself out there?"
"Sort of. I mean, I work and tag along with Eric and his friends and wait for the occasional sunny day. But," she shrugged, "it's not the life I want."
She continued briskly, "I'm thinking of moving on. Eric is so much better and has made a life for himself, so I think it's time I let him get on with it. I'm considering my options, but I've applied for a nursing position at several hospitals and should be hearing from them soon."
"Was Cook County one of those under consideration?"
Abby snorted. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no-you can't go home again, or at least I can't. My life there is over. Besides, I really don't think I could take Weaver again. Or having to work every day with some of my old coworkers." The unspoken question hung between them, but Luka understood as if she had shouted it over the phone line.
"Carter is at Northwestern now-he has a teaching position. And he's engaged to Deborah-did you hear about the young woman he met Africa?"
"Ah, yes, Deborah. She helped to get you out of Africa, didn't she?" For which I will be eternally grateful, she added silently. "Well, I sincerely hope Carter is happy." When Luka didn't respond, she added earnestly, "Really, I do. I want him to be happy. But as far as I'm concerned, that part of my life is over. I need to focus on what's the next chapter for me- I mean, Eric has been my project for so many months now that I found myself living one day at a time, right along with him. Now that he's better and ready to be on his own, well-" she flapped her hand helplessly, "I guess I need to figure our where I should go from here, and I've never been one to go backward."
"No, not you," Luka agreed quietly. She froze, suddenly recalling with vivid precision that night in Susan's bedroom the previous Christmas when Luka had told her that he missed her and caressed her arm. He had given her a snow globe that night, so lovely and magical, so perfect for a woman who had never received such a gift as a girl. So perfect that she had panicked.
Looking back, she remembered that she reacted in an ugly manner-bored and ungrateful when she opened the gift-to hide the rising panic that she felt. She realized at once that this Secret Santa gift was from Luka-who else would give her such a perfect, crystalline world that she could hold in the palm of her hand? She had felt an overwhelming need to distance herself from him, to push him away, to shove all of that old temptation away from her.
He had stood behind her in that stifling bedroom by the bed piled with coats, his eyes dark with sadness and longing. The gentle brush of his hand against her cheek was more than she could take. She had fled, practically knocking him down to get to Carter, who had appeared in the doorway.
Better to stay with Carter, who was safe and unthreatening. She may have been chaos to Carter, but Luka was chaos to her. Carter would never inspire the wild passions and intense grief that she had experienced with Luka. But being with Carter had never felt like going home, either.
And she wanted to go home. Problem was, Chicago wasn't home any more, and neither was Minnesota. Her mind abruptly registered the quiet on the telephone line, and she sensed Luka waiting patiently for her to continue the conversation. "I may stay here in Seattle, or I may move to San Francisco or San Antonio."
"Staying out west, huh," Luka remarked, surprised at the disappointment he felt at her answer. He knew she did not want to return to Chicago, but still he had hoped she might be closer. "Would you consider returning to Chicago for a visit? I would like to see you again, there are some things-"
"Luka," a sleepy voice called from his bedroom.
Abby felt her spine stiffen of its own volition. "Oh, God, Luka, you're not alone. I am so sorry."
"No, no," Luka said hastily, trying to reassure her. He wasn't ready to lose contact with her, not after all this time.
"I'll let you go-" She couldn't move or speak quickly enough to stave off the sense of shame or panic coursing through her.
"No, don't hang up yet, wait-"
But it was too late; Luka heard the dial tone in his ear and swore viciously. He hadn't even asked for a phone number to reach her.
"If you're going to swear," Gillian stated mildly, "have the courtesy to do it in a language that I can understand."
Abby whacked herself in the head with the phone receiver. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" God, why did she always assume he was alone? She now recalled Susan talking about the nurse from the Congo who had helped Carter find Luka, and how that nurse had returned to Chicago with Luka to help get him back on his feet. And had stayed to become part of his life, obviously. As always, my timing sucks, she thought bitterly.
She placed the phone carefully back on the table, and burst into tears.
"I was the forest for love songs/The one who can't love wrong/The one who won't fall/But will still write it down/I'm the one who would understand/Who listens with pen in hand/Everyone's shoulder/Till it's me who falls down"
First set of lyrics is Steely Dan, who just keep going and going. Second set is another Nanci Griffith song, "Nobody's Angel," from the Dust Bowl Symphony album. Get it. No kidding, if you're an incurable romantic, get it.