I stared at Cordelia, “How did you…?”

“Joanne, though I don’t think she was aware of it, told me. I had asked her about her family, and the way she talked about her father made it obvious that there was more to it than she was telling. Joanne can be very transparent at times. And once, after I told her what had happened to me, she said, I wish I had your mother, then rapidly changed the subject.”

She pulled back the covers and was getting into bed. I got in the other side, propping myself up on one elbow.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“I had a funny uncle. A Southern one, not really related. He would corner me in the barn out at Granddad’s estate and make me jerk him off. I told my mother and she was furious. I don’t think I ever saw her that angry.”

“At you?”

“No, of course not,” Cordelia replied, looking at me. “At him. She almost brought charges, but the D.A. convinced her that given who he was and who he knew, they would never get a conviction. Plus putting me through cross-examination. So she had to settle for making sure that every mother in his circle knew why they should keep their children out of his reach. And making sure that he was never seen with anyone in the Holloway family again. She threatened to divorce my father if he didn’t cooperate completely. Once the whispers reached enough ears, he fell rather heavily from social grace and moved to some place out west, maybe Texas. When my mother knew she was right, hell couldn’t stop her.”

“Good for her.”

“Good for me. At least I’m not in therapy to get over that.”

“You see a therapist? But you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“One of the most sane people I know.”

She laughed. “Probably because of all the time I’ve spent in therapy.”

“Oh.” I lay down, fluffing the pillow under my head.

Cordelia shut off the light. “I wish I weren’t so tired.”

“It’s been a long week. You need sleep,” I answered.

“But Micky,” she said, “significant parts of my body aren’t interested in sleep.”

She rolled over on her side and flung an arm across my stomach.

“Funny, I have a number of awake areas myself.” I moved her hand up to my breasts.

“Can you still be taken?” she whispered in my ear.

“Very much so.”

“Can I get on top?”

“Oh, yes,” I responded, delighted at the idea of her weight pressing down on me.

“Usually it’s a foregone conclusion that I’m on the bottom.”

“Not with me.”

I moaned softly as she covered me.

“Your shoulder?”

“What shoulder? That was a clitoral message.”

She laughed. Then started seriously kissing me.

Rook never once tried to get into bed with us. Some cats have a modicum of brain power. I certainly wouldn’t have attempted to get into any bed with two people thrashing around as much as we did.

Cordelia finally said, “Damn, I wish I weren’t so tired. I’d like to stay awake all night doing this.”

“I’d like to keep you awake. But I don’t think your patients would appreciate it.”

She rolled back to her side of the bed, then reached out and took my hand.

We fell asleep holding hands.

The alarm clock rang at a brutally early hour. Cordelia cursed and slapped it off, then rolled over and bumped into me.

“Hey, you’re here. I was afraid you were a dream.”

“You might wish I was if Danny ever hears about this,” I replied.

“Well, I won’t tell her, if you don’t,” she suggested, then she half climbed on top of me.

“I won’t, believe me.”

“What am I doing?” Cordelia muttered as she slid off me. “I have to get up. Sorry.”

Her other alarm clock went off. She slapped it off, too, then swung her legs off the bed. She shook her head for a moment or two, then got up and trudged to the bathroom.

I sat up slowly, trying to wake myself. I glanced at one of her clocks. Five-forty-five, no wonder I was so groggy. I went to bed at this hour more often than I got up at it.

Cordelia returned.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll feel better if at least one of us gets enough sleep,” she said as she started fishing underwear out of one of her drawers.

My response, unplanned, was to yawn.

I watched her as she gathered her clothes. She’s beautiful, I suddenly thought. Certainly not conventionally beautiful. Her hair was tousled, she slumped sleepily.

“Don’t watch me in the morning,” she grumped. “Not before I’ve had coffee.” She tossed her clothes over her shoulder and headed back to the bathroom.

I forced myself up and padded to the kitchen. Rook, asleep in a corner, awoke at my presence. I wasn’t the right person, but that didn’t stop her from rubbing against my legs in hopes of food. I made coffee first. Then, in a burst of generosity, fed her.

“Micky?” Cordelia said, stepping into the kitchen. “I thought I smelled coffee.”

“Now can I look at you?” I asked as I handed her a cup. She was dressed, her hair combed neatly.

“Thanks, you didn’t need to do this.”

She leaned against the counter and sipped the coffee.

“Did you wash your face well?” I inquired.

“I hope so,” she said with a slight smile. “Elly’s going to be with me at the clinic. She can be remarkably astute about things.”

“Let me check it out,” I volunteered.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly. I pushed her hand with the coffee cup out of the way, then kissed her.

“Well?” she asked.

“Coffee. I think it needs a further test.”