'Yeah, honey, that's the cynical way he's been since I've known him, but occasionally something else slips through. Something real fine. As a school nurse I'd had occasion to hear something bad about every pediatrician in Southern California. But I never did hear anything bad about Doctor.'
'Then his whole pirate thing is just a game?'
'No, ma'am, not for a minute.' She shook her head briskly. 'He's one tough mother. He caught a couple of Rhino's crew once trying to sneak in here at night. A man and a woman 'bout your ages. He killed 'em both right on the spot. A regular execution. Nearly took the guy's head off with that saber of his. That thing's not just ornamental, you know.' She looked at Eric. 'He's got a mean streak in him, a crazy urge to thumb his nose at the world. He's mad, goddamn it. Before the quakes he was being treated and there was some hope they'd be able to operate and clean him out. Save his life. But now…' She shrugged hopelessly. 'Can you blame him for being what he is? He had a basketball scholarship to Temple University, was a cinch for the NBA. Got drafted in the lottery, sent to Vietnam in time to get a bullet through the ankle. Poof, no more basketball. Became a doctor instead. Then this cancer shit.' She rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'Told me once that as a kid he saw Mary Martin play Peter Pan on TV, and for two years after, all he used to dream of was being Peter Pan and going to Never-Never Land. Said he used to cry when he had to go to school because he wouldn't be able to think about Never-Never Land at school. Well,' she smiled, 'he finally got his wish, though Lord knows this is a poor substitute for Never-Never Land.'
Nurse Havczech hoisted her plump body from the uncomfortable chair and shuffled toward the door. 'Got to get back to my patients. We do quite a walk-in business there.'
'Thanks for the tea, or whatever it is,' Tracy called.
'Thank Dr. Blackjack,' Nurse Havczech chuckled, shaking her head as she closed the door behind her.
'Quite a story,' Tracy said, obviously impressed.
'Yeah,' Eric nodded. 'If it's true.'
'God, you're cynical. Like him.'
'Just cautious.'
Tracy stretched out on the bedding, setting the mug on the floor near her head. It was no longer steaming. 'We're going, aren't we? To Liar's Cove.'
'That's not for me to decide alone. What do you think?'
'I think you still have a yen for the samurai sister.'
'God, Tracy.'
'Is it the danger? Knowing she carries a knife?' Tracy pulled the steel blade from her pocket. 'Hell, I carried your arch support in my underwear. Can't get much more erotic than that.'
Eric laughed. 'The only feeling I have about Angel is regret that I didn't kill her back in 'Nam.'
'What do you feel about me?'
'You already know.'
Tracy lifted her eyes toward him, patted the blanket next to her. 'Show me.'
'Christ, Tracy, your hip.'
'Show me.'
Eric lifted the glass bell jar from the lantern and puffed out the tiny flame. The room winked into a grayish dark that still allowed them to see each other. Long, thin slivers of orange from the cracks in the door crisscrossed the dark like photo-sensor guards in clothing stores.
Eric tended to Tracy first, helping ease her out of the jeans and sweat shirt. He could see the pain wringing her face as she peeled the denim from around her hip wound, but there was no use in trying to talk any sense into her. She was like Annie that way. Once she decided something was important, there was no turning back. As she shifted on the pile of blankets, one of the rods of orange light flickered across her face like a sci-fi laser beam. It lit up the moisture in her eyes and he could see how important this was to her. Not just sex, but a ceremony. A bonding, an exchange of silent vows.
When she was finally naked, the white bandage taped to her hip in a lump like a jellyfish, Eric quickly shed his own clothing. He stretched out next to her. Carefully she rolled herself onto her good hip, exposing her back to him. She brought the knee of her leg up into a frozen ballet dancer's stance, only prone. Eric snuggled next to her, his body hair brushing against her smooth skin. He hung an arm over her stomach and was surprised at the hardness of the muscles there. It excited him, lifting his penis until it poked insistently against the back of her thigh.
She chuckled and began humming 'Hail to the Chief.'
'Jezz, how romantic,' he said.
She didn't have to see him to know he was smiling. She wriggled her buttocks and back closer, pressing herself flush against his solid body.
Eric let his hand brush lightly over her breast, swirling lazy circles like a child doodling in the sand. Feeling the nipples grow longer, harder. He thought about the crops growing upstairs, preferred the ones they were raising right here. He cupped her breast in his rough hand and massaged the nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching harder and harder until he feared he might be hurting her, knowing he wasn't. Her breathing was shallow now, a husky panting.
She reached behind her, groped for his penis, finally snagging it with a firm grasp. She squeezed and he could feel her callouses and blisters pricking his tender skin. It made him harder, hungrier. Still, he was cautious.
'I'm wounded, Eric, not dead,' she said. 'We can do the slow gentle bit later. Right now, I just want to get laid.'
He smiled, dipped his head over her shoulder to kiss her. Their eyes were open, staring deep into each other's as their tongues bumped like playful dolphins. The orange light sizzled along Eric's scar and she squeezed him harder, using her other hand to crush his hand tighter over her breast.
'God, Eric, it's been so long.'
He understood. The mechanics of sex were much different in this California than they had been before. No more birth-control pills. Prophylactics were rare anymore. Those that cared, reverted to the rhythm method, the only one that didn't require any devices. Big Bill Tender-wolf had once told him about using stoneseed roots to suppress the estrous cycle, but Big Bill had preferred a vasectomy. Eric could have had a vasectomy done at University Camp when they were being encouraged, but he'd seen no need to since Annie was no longer able to give birth after Timmy. Now he was glad he hadn't. What if anything should happen to Timmy? Would he ever want to start over again with another family? With Tracy?
It made him guilty to even think such thoughts. As long as Timmy was alive, that was all that mattered.
He skated his hand over her buttocks, nestling between her legs into her soft pubic hairs. They were matted, wet and sticky, and he calculated how long since they'd last made love. Two weeks, three. They'd run out of rubbers, the little boxes of Trojans they'd carried in their backpack along with other necessities of life. He hadn't used one since and that made him feel like a high school student, fumbly and sweaty. When they'd run out, Tracy had just passed her menstrual cycle. She was within days of her period; he could relax.
Tracy lifted her leg slightly, guiding his engorged penis to her. The head bumped, then skidded along the slippery path, disappearing.
Their movements were smooth, less energetic than usual in deference to Tracy's wound. But there was something almost more passionate about this, a sense of ritual that touched both of them. He could feel the filmy sweat bristling over her skin as they rocked together. Her eyelids fluttered as usual, her mouth wide open and sucking air. Morbidly it reminded him of when she was drowning earlier. Then all the air rushed out of her lungs and she clenched her teeth. He felt her vaginal muscles rippling like a strong tide along his penis. He hurried a few more strokes, tensed his buttocks, and gushed bubbling lava into her.
They hugged without words for a while. He watched her eyes close, her face relax into sleep. Her lips puffed loosely. Watching her in the dark, he realized something he'd avoided accepting for too long. 'I love you,' he whispered.
She opened her eyes and turned to face him. 'Gotcha.' She smiled.
He smiled back, pulled a ragged blanket over them.
