Page 119 of Just One Look
Her father said, “Elizabeth. This is not normal, not at your age. Listen to me.”
“Whoops,” she said. “Losing the connection, sorry. No, it’s gone.” And hung up.
* * *
This night should have beengood, Luka thought three hours later. Nyree and Marko here with the baby, and Elizabeth, too, not even late. But something was off.
It wasn’t him. He wasn’t whinging about his situation anymore, even with the boys on the other side of the Ditch without him. The injury had happened, and he was fixing it. Was it frustrating that he could only ride a recumbent bike and do some lower-body work—withoutweights—this week? Yes, it was, but he was used to recovering from injury. He’d do more next week, and more the week after that, and once he could train? He’d be off to the races. And meanwhile, he’d walk. He wasn’t supposed to drive? He’d walk instead. Very fast.
It wasn’t him, then, and it wasn’t Marko, because Marko was looking pretty bloody relaxed. He thought it was Elizabeth. She’d been subdued tonight, hadn’t she? Tired, maybe. What had she had last night, five hours of sleep?
She’d asked Nyree questions about her art, and Marko questions about his grandmother, the one he’d told her about when they’d been looking at Arielle in the nursery. She’d told a funny story about what she’d imagined Waiheke would be, and how it had turned out. About her messy hair, her lack of makeup, and walking into a rich-lister’s house and just about walking out of it again. All of it light, like nothing hard had happened last night at all, and maybe like she was following some rule book for conversation.
She held the baby, too, later on, when Nyree had finished feeding her. “Is it odd that I’ve mostly seen babies when I’m doing surgery on them?” she asked when she had the little bundle in her arms. “That’s almost the only time I’ve held them, too.” Arielle was a pretty baby, as babies went, all honey-colored skin and black curls and huge eyes, and Elizabeth picked up her starfish hand and ran her thumb over the tiny fingers before bending her head and inhaling. “I never get to kiss them, or smell that perfect baby smell. I just fix their brains, huh, sweetheart? Their little brains, and their teeny-tiny spines. You have a spine, too, don’t you? A perfect spine. You don’t need me, do you?”
“Thatisodd,” Nyree said. “But interesting. How can you operate on somebody that tiny? How can you see what you’re doing? Has to be so scary, too.”
Marko said, “Not sure I like this topic.”
Nyree said, “He gets nervous.”
“I don’t get nervous,” he said. “I just don’t want to think about surgery on babies.”
“That’s all right,” Elizabeth said, handing the baby to Marko, who took her in his big hands and held her against his chest like he’d thought he wasn’t going to get her back, or possibly like Elizabeth would grab her again and operate on her just for giggles. “Of course you don’t like it,” she went on. “What a subject to talk about to new parents, and I’ve done it twice now. I’m sorry. What can I say? Surgery is my frame of reference. The answer is, though, magnifying glasses and microscopes and very steady hands.” And there she went, shutting down again.
“Itisscary, then,” Nyree said.
“All surgery is scary,” Elizabeth said. “That’s what makes it so exciting. But we don’t need to think about it when we’re looking at your baby. In fact, you don’t need to think about it at all. That’s what people like me are for.”
“Do you have to give up too much to do it, then?” Nyree asked.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Of course not. I told you, I love my job.”
“Harder for women, though, surely,” Nyree said. “Managing relationships. Kids. And you don’t get to hold babies.”
This time, Elizabeth didn’t spill her guts. She said, “It can be, yes. Mostly, though, you just have to manage people’s expectations. If they don’t expect much, they can’t be disappointed.”
“That’s bleak,” Nyree said.
“It’s realistic,” Elizabeth answered.
She was quiet again until Marko and Nyree got up to leave, and when the two of them were back upstairs again after seeing them off, she told him, “I should really go home and get some sleep. I’m on call all weekend and will probably end up sleeping at the hospital. Weekends tend to be like that.”
“Oh,” he said. “Fine.” It didn’t feel fine. Half of him wanted to say,Sleep here,but how would that sound? Desperate, that was how. Or maybe concerned. He wasn’t sure which he was. Maybe both.
She hesitated, and he thought,Yes, you can sleep here. Just ask me.Instead, she said, “By the way, Nils Larsen—Dr. Larsen—invited us to dinner next Saturday night. With his wife. Near here, actually, because he lives around here, too. For a big city, this is a very small town.” She ran her hands over the legs of her black trousers. Yes, it was another pair, because clearly, that was her uniform. “Sorry. Why am I rambling? For some reason, he invited the two of us out, because he obviously noticed that you and I had been seeing each other. I don’t know why, though. Maybe he wants to discuss rugby strategy. He seems keenly interested. I realize that we’re not really a couple yet, but I could hardly say, ‘Oh, no, he’s just my booty call,’ could I? I said I wasn’t sure whether you were available, though, so if you don’t want to go—just go on and say so!” With a little laugh.
He sat on the couch and pulled her down with him. Not beside him. Into his lap.
She said, “Don’tdothat!” and tried to slide off, and he kept hold of her and said, “Why? Because of my neck? Or because you don’t want me to?”
She felt bloody good there. Solid, warm, and curvy as hell. The struggling was nice, too. He pulled her hair back and kissed the side of her neck, because it was right there, and she said, “You’re still recovering. Barely post-surgical.” She didn’t say it very convincingly, though.
“Mm.” She’d worn the scent tonight, and he inhaled it, all floral and soft and feminine. He needed to go with her and do that shopping, he thought as his mouth did some nibbling and her hand tightened on his shoulder and she forgot to protect his neck.
She needed a dress. And more scent. And shoes with the highest heels she could manage. Possibly stockings, too. He got his teeth into things, and she drew in her breath with an audible hiss. He could go for stockings, and Elizabeth in a lacy suspender belt … one that matched her lingerie …
She could keep the shoes on.
