Chapter 9

The quiet hum of the air conditioning in the waiting room did nothing to settle Andrea’s nerves. She had made the appointment with the psychiatrist on impulse and was extremely lucky to get one on such short notice. Her only saving grace was an unexpected last minute cancellation and her friendship with the person in question. Now she was having second, third, and fourth thoughts. The door to the inner sanctum opened and out stepped a man around forty years of age, with distinguished features despite a rather prominent nose. He also sported a full head of dark brown hair.

“Andrea. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello, Robert.” Andrea smiled weakly.

“You’re here in New York for a visit?” he asked, looking at her with a bemused expression.

“No, it’s not a social visit.”

“This is your next patient, Doctor.” The receptionist handed over the empty folder with Andrea’s name printed on it in large letters.

“Patient?” He looked at Andrea in confusion. “Come in then.”

He extended his hand toward the door, and she went into his office.

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The door might have closed quietly, but to Andrea, it sounded like a death knell. Robert Parkinson was a friend of the family. She only hoped that what she was about to discuss with him would be bound by his Hippocratic Oath and override his need to tell her mother.

“No—yes.” She sighed. “I don’t know.” She sat in the leather-bound chair opposite his desk.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m working here in New York. I just started at the District Attorney’s Office this week.”

“The DA’s Office, eh? Good for you. And is there a problem at work?”

“Not with work as such, more a—” How could she put it? “A conflict of interest, maybe. I—that is—” She stopped, trying to figure out how to explain her feelings.

“How about we start with something easier? How’s your mother?”

That’s part of the problem. “She’s fine. She’s always fine.”

“Still as domineering as ever, I suppose,” he said dryly. Andrea smiled. “Virginia always has a way with...”

He hesitated. Andrea knew exactly what he meant. “Manipulating people?”

“Quite so. And Jefferson?”

“Daddy finds solace in work. When he isn’t trying to appease Mother.”

“Is that why you came to New York?”

“Partly, but the job was just too good to pass up.” Andrea tried to gauge his reaction, but she read nothing in his expression.

“So it was the job?”

“Of course.” She tried to sound indignant but failed. Robert scribbled some notes on the blank paper in her file, and Andrea quelled an urge to lean forward and try to read what he had written.

“And how’s your love life?” He looked up at her. Andrea’s eyes widened at the question, because it was so unexpected. “Er... fine, thanks. I’m getting married.”

“Really? Anyone I know?”

“Joel Redmond.”

“Ah, yes. I remember him. You and he travelled in the same social circle, right?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Andrea tried to appear nonchalant.

“And how is he?”

“The same as he’s always been.”

“Mmm.”

“What’s that mean?” Andrea asked defensively. He glanced at her, surprised. “Normally I wouldn’t explain myself, but in your case I’ll make an exception. If I remember rightly, Joel liked his parties back in the old days. And now you say he hasn’t changed.”

Andrea’s eyes dropped. “I—I’m not sure—”

“Do you think this job in New York is an excuse?”

“Why do I need an excuse?”

“Andrea, I know your mother and how much she wants that grandchild. We both know your brother Beau is out of the question after his illness. You’re their last chance to carry on the Worthington name.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Every day. Every single day. It’s ‘Joel’ this and ‘Joel’ that, waving wedding invitations in front of my face. I’m very aware of what’s at stake here.” The anger was palpable in her tone.

“Relax. I’m here to help.”

“Sorry.”

“No need. So, you’re not completely happy with Joel?”

“Yes—” She stopped. “No. Can you ask something easier?”

Another scratch of pen on paper.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” she asked, irritated. The scratching stopped and he looked up and smiled. “Sorry.”

He put the lid back on the fountain pen and placed it next to his notes. He leaned back in his large leather wingback chair and clasped his hands together. “Why are you here?”

“That’s an easier question?”

He didn’t answer.

“Damn it,” Andrea muttered. “Okay. There’s this woman,” she blurted then stopped. She watched him for a reaction, but she got none. “She’s a detective in the police station where my office is. We’ve had a lot of contact since I started, and we get along quite comfortably. Anyway, she saved me from getting hit by a car—”

“A car? Are you all right?”

Andrea could see Robert had a genuine concern for her health.

“I’m fine. She pushed me out of the way, and she ended up with a broken wrist. Now I sort of feel responsible for looking after her. I don’t—I’m not sure what I feel.”

“Is it because of her health or because you like being with her?”

Andrea thought about the question for a while. “I suppose if I’m honest with myself, a bit of both.”

“I see.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It’s shrink talk for ‘I see.’”

“Robert, please. Help me here. What do I do?”

Robert regarded her for a long moment before responding.

“Well, the one question you have to ask yourself before you do anything else is do you want to spend the rest of your life with Joel?”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is. It’s either yes or no.”

“I can’t make up my mind. That’s the problem.” Andrea looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

“But you have, my dear. You’ve already told me.”

“I have?”

He looked over his notes. “You’re marrying Joel because your mother is insisting you do. She’s made the match, and you’re going along with it. Obviously, Joel hasn’t changed his ways and you’re prepared to ignore it because you don’t love him.”

Andrea so wanted to deny his pronouncements, but in her heart she knew he was right. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. She was apathetic to the whole thing. “So what do I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I thought that was your job.”

He laughed. “Psychiatrist and matchmaker, eh? Look, you have a number of options. Quit your job and go home to good old Joel. Quit your job and leave for parts unknown. Get on with your job and your life. Tell this woman how you feel and tell Joel to get lost, or quietly move into a life of celibacy.”

“Become a nun?” She groaned. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

“No. Haven’t you been listening to a thing I say?” he asked patiently.

“I have, but I’m still waiting to hear something that appeals to me.”

“Andrea, I know how hard it is to tell your mother to mind her own business, but if you want to be happy, that’s exactly what you have to do. However, if you’re going to admit to her that you could be gay, or bisexual, I would pick your moment very carefully.”

“Gay? I didn’t say I was gay.” But even the words sounded hollow to her. Maybe she was hoping Robert would make that decision for her.

“You said a woman, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think of this woman as more than a friend?”

“I—I kissed her.” Oh, God. Why was she telling him this?

“I’d say that’s a yes.”

“It was a dare.”

“Who made the dare?”

“I did. I thought she would prefer to take her meds rather than kiss me.”

“And you don’t think it was because you secretly wanted to know what it was like to kiss a woman? You must have had some inkling of the detective’s sexual leaning, otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen that particular dare.”

“Or maybe I did it because I thought she was straight and she wouldn’t do it.”

“You can put it any way you want.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You’re making excuses for what she makes you feel. You simply want me to make the hard decisions for you.”

“Maybe I do. I just wanted someone to talk to.”

“I’m here, you know that. I’m glad that you thought of me.”

Robert paused. “Your first decision must be about Joel. You’re obviously having second thoughts about the marriage. If you decide that you don’t want to proceed, now is the time to put a stop to it before it becomes a three-ring circus, because knowing your mother as I do that’s what it will end up being.”

“I just needed someone to talk to, Robert, someone who wouldn’t be judgmental. I don’t want anyone to know about what I’m wrestling over. Especially when it comes to my family.”

“And yet you came to someone who is involved with your family. Why not go to a stranger?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question.”

“I think we both know why you came to see me.”

“For one thing, you have intimate knowledge of what I’m talking about.”

“But that’s not the main reason, is it, Andrea?”

“I suppose not.” Andrea could feel her heart pumping hard against her rib cage. “I just didn’t want a stranger sticking his nose into family business.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Andrea, but don’t wait too long to jump one way or the other. These things have a way of coming out”—he chuckled at the pun—”whether you want them to or not.”

“Indeed,” she mumbled absently. “So, no advice for me?”

“Yes. Something very simple. Follow your heart. It will never lie to you.”

“That’s it?”

“Don’t fight or encourage it. Let it all unfold, and if it’s meant to happen, it will.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t sure it was that simple, but she was willing to try it. “Thanks, I think.” She rose and went around the desk to give him a hug. “It really was good to see you.”

“Send my love to the family when you next talk to them.”

“Sure.” She moved from the table across the thick carpet to the door, her hand finally resting on the handle.

“And Andrea? If it’s worth anything, I have no objection to you being gay.” He grinned at her as she rolled her eyes. Andrea closed the door behind her in deep thought. If it’s meant to happen, it will.

Morgan lounged on her sofa in her sweats. After her rather challenging day, it was nice to sit down quietly and allow her body to relax, as much as she could with the constant pain in her wrist. She had resisted taking the pain medication, instead saving it for when she wanted to get some sleep.

She tried to get involved in watching television, but she couldn’t sustain the concentration. There was a knock on the door, and she glanced over at it. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so who was disturbing her at this time of night? She checked the peephole and groaned softly, seeing the one person she really wasn’t prepared to see. Oh, no. Could she pretend she was asleep, or out?

“I know you’re there, O’Callaghan. I can hear you breathing.”

Damn! Was the woman psychic? Morgan opened the door, revealing Andrea in jeans and a loosely hanging blouse, the smooth texture of the material dropping softly and molding itself to her body. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and her hair framed her face in a gentle wave rather than in the styled business look she normally adopted.

So beautiful. Morgan was now absolutely one hundred percent positive that this was definitely not the place Andrea should be.

“What?” Andrea looked down at her shirt.

“Nothing,” Morgan whispered. “Nothing at all.”

“Good.” But Morgan didn’t move aside. “Can I come in?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Morgan wanted to tell her to go home, but she could see by the expression on Andrea’s face and the suitcase she had with her, that ‘no’ wasn’t going to be accepted. Andrea brushed by her and into the apartment. Morgan smiled sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t imagine you would own a pair of jeans.”

“What did you expect? All business suits and high heels?”

“Pretty much.”

“It’s very un-American not to own at least one pair of jeans,” Andrea teased. She put her bag near the door and seated herself on the sofa.

“But it doesn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with the rich and famous, you know?” Morgan followed her and continued past her to the kitchen to get coffee.

“You mean the Southern rich and famous. You still think of us as Gone with the Wind types? Debutante balls and the Ladies Auxiliary? Not this little black duck.”

“Little black duck? Are you still the little Southern Rebel?”

Andrea thought for a moment. “I suppose I am. I was a little black duck in a group of two. Maybe that’s why my mother is so intent on me being married with kids. If my brother and I don’t have kids, the Worthington Empire dies.”

“Your dad has no brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah, he has a deadbeat brother, but no way in hell would he hand over the business to that crumb.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“They were my mother’s words, not mine. Uncle Joshua is an okay kind of guy, if you like the sort that squanders their inheritance. But Daddy worked too hard to build up his business to see it crumble twelve months after his death. Besides, I think he kind of likes the thought of handing it down to his own grandchild.”

Morgan returned with two mugs of hot coffee and handed one over to Andrea. “Didn’t you say you had a brother?”

“He’s not able—” Andrea stopped and took a sip of her coffee.

“Not able?” Morgan sat down on the sofa and looked into Andrea’s eyes, seeing the unspoken warning. She did not want to be questioned about it. “Okay, so your brother can’t help. That leaves you. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Day in. Day out. My mother was constantly harping on me to marry Joel, and it was slowly driving me crazy. I’m beginning to wonder whether I moved here just to get away from her constant nagging. I’m giving her what she wants. Can’t she leave me alone?”

Morgan raised her eyebrows. “If she was bothering you that much, I’m surprised you didn’t book a seat on the next space shuttle.”

“Hmm. I didn’t think of that.”

Morgan laughed and Andrea grinned.

“So, why are you here?” Morgan tried to sound unconcerned about Andrea’s arrival.

“I’m your second hand for this weekend. What do you need help with?”

“I told you I’m fine.” Morgan was tired of trying to convince everyone she could manage.

“This would be a good opportunity to wash your hair.”

Unfortunately, Andrea was right. Her hair had been in the too hard basket for too long. “All right, but that’s it. I can manage everything else.”

“Sure you can,” Andrea said, but Morgan thought she sounded a little too bright.

“Are you sassing me?”

“Now, Sergeant, I would never think of doing such a thing.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Morgan didn’t know whether to be angry or just surrender.

“I’m thinking over the kitchen sink. It’s either that or the shower, and I know how much you would enjoy that,” Andrea said cheekily. “I’ll have some room to maneuver in the kitchen, and it should keep the mess to a minimum.” Andrea reached for the buttons of her blouse.

“Wha—what the hell are you doing?”

Andrea stopped. “Do you honestly think I’m not going to get wet doing this? Hang on.” She went in search of her suitcase and rummaged through it. She drew out an old T-shirt emblazoned with two ducks and the logo “Fly United.”

Morgan shook her head in disbelief.

“What?”

“I would never in my wildest dreams imagine you wearing a T-shirt. It’s a radical look for you, don’t you think?”

“It’s the only one I have. My mother threw it out twice, but I managed to sneak it back in.” Andrea said mischievously.

“Ah, the black duck strikes again! I haven’t seen that logo in years.”

“Hey. No one messes with my T-shirt.”

“Gotcha.” Morgan chuckled. “A T-shirt. Now I’ve seen everything.”

“But it’s my black duck T-shirt. There’s a big difference.”

“And I’m sure you enjoyed wearing it to annoy the hell out of your mother. You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?”

A cheeky smile hovered on Andrea’s lips. “Not this little black duck. Haven’t you figured me out yet, Sergeant?”

“I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface, Counselor.”

Morgan forced herself to look into Andrea’s eyes. Andrea blinked first.

“Stop distracting me. We have some hair to wash. I’ll get the shampoo.”

Morgan pointed to the bathroom.

As Andrea disappeared, Morgan wondered whether this was a good idea. Suddenly she had a best buddy who was with her every waking minute, and she was wondering if she could keep the friendship platonic with so much contact. She was about to find out. Twenty minutes later, she had forgotten all about her misgivings. If she had realized how sensual it was to have someone wash her hair, she would have tried it long ago. Andrea’s nimble fingers gently massaged her scalp, slowly lulling her into a sleepy state as Andrea lathered up her hair. It was nearly hypnotic.

“Are you still with me?” Andrea asked.

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going off to sleep there for a minute.”

“Keep this up and I just might,” Morgan said, feeling relaxed.

“It’s been a long day?”

“Long, painful, frustrating, and tiring. I suppose just a little bit. But then you know all that.”

“Duck your head.” Andrea grabbed an old jug filled with warm water and rinsed out the shampoo, a job that took several minutes and then some. “Woman, you have a lot of hair. How on earth do you keep it clean?”

“It takes some work, believe me. But it’s more thick than long.”

“Is that good?”

Morgan groaned. “Oh, yeah. Keep doing that.” She didn’t want the hair washing to end. If she thought the actual washing was something, her head plastered against Andrea’s abdomen while she vigorously rubbed Morgan’s damp hair with a towel was something else entirely. Oh, God. She inhaled Andrea’s scent. It was so... she couldn’t think of a word to describe what was happening. Her body was being filled with Andrea, who was infiltrating every pore, cell, and synapse. It was intoxicating, like a rare wine left years to mature and develop into something perfect.

“I—” Morgan started to say, but her voice cracked. “That’s enough.” She pulled away.

“Why? I haven’t finished yet.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for doing this.”

Andrea studied her then shrugged. “Why don’t we have some dinner then?”

“I’ve already eaten, but you can help yourself.”

“Morgan, you have nothing in your fridge but a mold colony. I’d have to order in.”

“There’s the phone.” Morgan pointed to it.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Tired, I guess.” It was a half-truth.

“Okay, if you want an early night, that’s okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you go get some sleep if you’ll show me around the city tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You’re not working, are you?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t want to show me around?” Andrea sounded hurt.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve got housework to do.” How stupid did that sound?

“With one hand? Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy.”

“All right. I’ll give you a hand, then we can go for a walk in Central Park. How about that? Is that safe enough?”

“Safe? Are you insinuating something?”

“Moi? Maybe this little black duck is hoping to get to know you better.”

“Why?” Morgan didn’t really understand all of this. Why was it going on? “Please explain it to me. I don’t understand.” Morgan looked up into Andrea’s eyes.

“I like you, Morgan O’Callaghan, and I’d like to spend some time with you outside of work. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Morgan stood, her hair already beginning to dry into a tangled mess. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“Geez, you make me sound so appealing,” Andrea said sarcastically, “like I’m some virulent disease or something.” Andrea steered her toward the bedroom. “Let’s get this dried before we continue this conversation.”

The whir of the hair dryer filled the air, and Morgan let Andrea continue working on her hair. She felt confused and worried, but she was enjoying the company.

“My God, woman, I’ve never seen so much hair in all my life,” Andrea said.

“Just braid it. That keeps it under control.”

“Your wish is my command, ma’am.”

“Not all the time,” Morgan said softly, wishing Andrea would obey all her wishes.

“What?” Andrea asked as she worked.

“Nothing.” Morgan silently cursed herself for inadvertently voicing her thoughts.

Andrea tied a band around the base of Morgan’s braid.

“I’ve got to get some sleep.” Morgan tried to come up with an excuse to escape.

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s really not a good time.” Somehow she didn’t think that was going to be enough.

“I don’t get it,” Andrea said quietly as Morgan’s bedroom door closed.

“Neither do I,” Morgan replied from behind the closed door. And tomorrow was going to be another day that she didn’t really want to face.