Sanctuary(36)

"Neither is pregnancy."

"I always make the guy condomize. No exceptions. There's a couple of really cute ones camped at number six right now."

Sighing, Kirby snapped on her gloves. "Casual sex equals dangerous complications."

"Yeah, but it's so damn much fun." Ginny smiled up at the dreamy Monet poster Kirby had tacked to the ceiling. "And I always fall in love with them a little. Sooner or later, I'm going to come across the big one. The right one. Meantime, I might as well sample the field."

"Minefield," Yirby muttered. "You're selling yourself short."

"I don't know." Trying to imagine herself walking through those misty flowers in the poster, Ginny tapped her many-ringed fingers on her midriff "Haven't you ever seen a guy and just wanted him so bad everything inside you curled up and shivered?"

Yirby thought of Brian, caught herself before she sighed again. "Yeah."

"I just love when that happens, don't you? I mean it's so ... primal, right?"

"I suppose. But primal and inconvenience aside, I want you using that diaphragm."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, doctor. Oh, hey, speaking of men and sex, Lexy says she got a load of the Yankee and he is prime beef."

"I got a load of him myself," Yirby replied.

"Was she right?"

"He's very attractive." Gendy, Yirby lifted one of Ginny's arms over her head and began the breast exam.

"Turns out he's an old friend of Bri's-spent a summer here with his parents. His father was that photographer who did the picture book on the sea Islands way back. My mother's still got a copy."

"The photographer. Of course. I'd forgotten that. He took pictures of Granny. He made a print and matted it, sent it to her after he left. I still have it in my bedroom."

"Magot the book out this morning when I told her. It's really nice," Ginny added as Yirby helped her sit up. "There's one of Annabelle Hathaway and Jo gardening at Sanctuary. Ma remembered he took the pictures the summer Annabelle ran off. So I said maybe she ran off with the photographer, but Ma said he and his wife and kids were still on the island after she left."

"It was twenty years ago. You'd think people would forget and leave it alone."

"The Pendletons are Desire," Ginny pointed out. "Annabelle was a Pendleton. And nobody ever forgets anything on the island. she was really beautiful," she added, scooting off the table. "I don't remember her very well, but seeing the picture brought it back some. Jo would look like that if she put some effort into it."

"I imagine Jo prefers to look like Jo. You're healthy, Ginny, go ahead and get dressed. I'll meet you outside when you're done."

"Thanks. Oh, and Kirby, try to make it by the campground. We'll make it a real girls' night out. Number twelve."

"We'll see."

I At four, Kirby closed the clinic. Her only emergency walk-in had been a nasty case of sunburn on a vacationer who'd fallen asleep on the beach. she'd spent fifteen minutes after her last patient sprucing up her makeup, brushing her hair, dabbing on fresh perfume.

she told herself it was for her own personal pleasure, but as she was heading over to Sanctuary, she knew that was a lie. she was hoping she looked fresh enough, smelled good enough, to make Brian Hathaway suffer.

she took the beach door. Yirby loved that quick, shocking thrill of seeing the ocean so near her own home. she watched a family of four playing in the shallows and caught the high music of the children's laughter over the hum of the sea.

she slipped on her sunglasses and trotted down the steps. The narrow boardwalk she'd had Gaff build led her around the house, away from the dunes. Rising out of the sand was a stand of cypress, bent and crippled by the wind that even now blew sand around her ankles. Bushes of bayberry and beach elder grew in the through. she added her own tracks to those that crisscrossed the sand.

she circled the edges of the dune swale, islander enough to know and respect its fragility. In moments, she had left the hot brilliance of sand and sea for the cool, dim cave of the forest.

she walked quickly, not hurrying, but simply with her mind set on her destination. she was used to the rustles and clicis of the woods, the shifts of sound and light. So she was baffled when she found herself stopping, straining her ears and hearing her own heart beating fast and high in her throat.

Slowly, she turned in a circle, searching the shadows. she'd heard something, she thought. Felt something. she could feel it now, that crawling sensation of being watched.

"Hello?" she hated herself for trembling at the empty echo of her own voice. "Is someone there?"

The rattle of fronds, the rustle that could be deer or rabbit, and the heavy silence of thickly shaded air. Idiot, she told herself. Of course there was no one there. And if there were, what would it matter? she turned back, continued down the well-known path and ordered herself to walk at a reasonable pace.