Changes

“Can you hold the flight for me for ten minutes? I've got to call New York on a big story.” The supervisor didn't look pleased, but for people of Mel's rank they often did special favors, like find them seats on fully booked flights, even if it meant bumping some unsuspecting passenger off the plane, or holding a flight just before takeoff, like this one.

“I'll give you ten minutes, but I can't give you much more than that.” It cost the airlines a fortune to pull stunts like that and delay on the ground. She turned away from Mel then and spoke into the small walkie-talkie she carried as Mel ran back to the pay phone, and put the call on her credit card. They got her through to the newsroom right away but it took four precious minutes to find an assistant producer and a story editor, who conferred with Mel on the phone.

“What's up?”

“A real break. One of the people I interviewed was a patient waiting for a transplant. And I just got a call from Hallam. They've got a donor, and they're going to operate now. Can I stay and take a camera crew back out.to Center City to film the operation?” She was breathless from the excitement and from running to the phone.

“Didn't you shoot him in surgery before?”

“No.” She held her breath, knowing that could decide it all.

“Then stay. But get your ass home tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned as she hung up the phone, and hurried back to the gate.

She told them she wasn't taking the flight and then called the local network for a camera crew. She hurried outside for a cab then, hoping that the airline would hold on to her bag in New York, as they'd promised to.

The camera crew was waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived, and they went straight upstairs to surgery. They all had to scrub, don masks and gowns, and they had been assigned a minuscule corner of the room which they had to confine their equipment to. But Mel was vehement about following the rules, she was grateful that Peter let them be there at all and she didn't want to abuse the privilege.

And, at last, wheeled into the room on a stretcher with the side rails up, Marie appeared. Her eyes were closed, and she looked deathly pale. She didn't stir at all, until Peter walked in, in mask and gown, and spoke to her. He didn't even seem to see Mel then, although he glanced once at the camera crew, and seemed satisfied at where they stood. And then everything got under way, as Mel watched in fascination.

Peter constantly glanced at the monitors and gave a constant series of orders to his team. They moved in total unison like an intricate ballet of hands, with instruments being passed to him from an enormous tray.

Melanie looked away when they made the first incision, but after that she was drawn to the intensity of the scene, and hour after hour she stood by and watched, praying silently for Marie's life, as they worked endlessly to replace her dying heart with the new one of the young woman who had died only hours before. It was fascinating to watch as they lifted the old one from her chest and placed it on a tray, and Melanie didn't even gasp as she watched them lower the new one into the cavity they had left, valves and arteries and veins were hooked up as the hands moved ceaselessly over the woman's chest; Melanie held her breath, then suddenly the monitors came to life again, and the sound of the monitored heartbeat leapt into the room like a drum in everyone's ears, and the cardiac team gave a cheer. It was truly amazing. The heart so lifeless since the death of its donor sprang to life again in Marie's body.

The surgery went on for another two hours after that, and at last the final incision was closed, and Peter stood back, his back and chest drenched, his arms sore from the precise work, and he watched carefully as they slowly pushed her bed from the room again, into a nearby cubicle where she would be watched for several hours. He would remain close by for the next six or eight hours himself to make sure that all went well, but for the moment everything seemed to be under control, and he walked out into the hall and took a deep breath of air, as Melanie followed him, feeling her legs shake. It had been an extraordinary experience watching him work, and she was deeply grateful for his call. He chatted for a few moments with the others, still in his cap and gown, his mask cast aside on a desk, and for a few minutes Mel conferred with the camera crew. They were ready to go home, and enormously impressed with what they'd seen.

“Christ, that guy's good.” The man in charge peeled off his blue gown and lit a cigarette, suddenly wondering at the wisdom of it as he did, but all he could think of was what they'd gotten on film, the constantly moving hands, working in pairs, sometimes two pairs together, never stopping, picking up tiny slivers of tissue to be repaired and veins barely thicker than hairs. “It really makes you believe in miracles to see something like that.” He looked at Mel in awe, and he shook her hand. “It was nice working with you.”

“Thank you for getting here so fast.” She smiled, and they glanced over some notes. He told her he'd have the film in New York the next day to add to the rest and then he and his crew left, and she changed her clothes. She was surprised to see Peter emerge in his street clothes too. Somehow she had assumed that he'd be sticking around in his operating-room garb, but she didn't know why she'd assumed that. It was strange to see him though as just an ordinary mortal again. “How did it go?” she asked him as they walked outside together into the hall. It was as though she had never left, and something deep inside her leapt to see him again.

“Okay so far. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial for her though. We'll have to see how she holds up. She was terribly weak when we went in. Did you see that heart? It was like a piece of rock, it didn't have any give left at all. I don't think she'd have made it another twenty-four hours. She was damn lucky we got that donor in time.” “Donor” … donor … no face … no name … no past … just “donor,” an anonymous heart in a body one knew, with a face like Marie's. It was still difficult to absorb. Even after watching the operation performed for four hours. Mel looked at her watch then and was surprised to see that it was well after six o'clock, and when she glanced outside she saw that the sun had come up. The night was gone, and Marie was alive. “You must be beat.” He looked her over carefully and noticed the dark shadows growing under her eyes. “Just standing there watching is a lot harder than doing the work.”

“I doubt that.” She yawned in spite of herself, and wondered how Marie would feel when she woke up. That was the worst of all. And Melanie didn't envy her. She would have a lot to go through now, even more than she'd gone through before. She had the drugs to absorb, the rejection and infections to fight, and she would have the pain of having been cut almost in half as they worked. Mel almost shuddered at the thought, and Peter saw her grow pale, and without further ado, pushed her into the nearest chair. He'd seen the symptoms before, even before Mel herself knew she was growing faint. He gently pushed her head down toward her knees with his powerful hands and Mel was too surprised to speak.

“Take slow, deep breaths, and exhale through your mouth.” She was about to say something flip to him but suddenly found that she felt too sick to speak, and when she'd recovered again, she looked up at him in surprise.

“I didn't even feel that coming on.”

“Maybe not, my friend, but for a minute there, you turned an interesting shade of green. You ought to have something to eat downstairs, and go back to your hotel to sleep.” And then he remembered that she had checked out, and no longer had a room, and he thought of something. “Why don't you go back to my place for a while? Mrs. Hahn can put you in the guest room, and the kids won't even know you're there.” He looked at his watch, it was a few minutes before seven. “I'll give her a call.”

“No, don't, I can go back to my hotel.”

“That's silly. Why go through all that, when you can sleep at my place? No one will bother you all day.” It was a generous offer, but she wasn't sure it was quite right. But she found that when she stood up, she was too tired to argue or even call her hotel for another room. And when he walked to a desk and picked up a phone, she sat watching him like an exhausted child. He walked back to her looking as fresh as he had the morning before, although he had lost a night's sleep too, but he seemed to be used to it, and he was still exhilarated by his success. “She'll be waiting for you when you arrive. The kids won't even be up till eight, except Mark, who's already gone.” He glanced around and spoke rapidly to a nurse and then returned to Mel. “Marie's doing fine, I'll take you downstairs and put you in a cab myself, and then I'll come back here to check on her.”

“You really don't have to … it's silly …” It was ridiculous, she had covered everything from mass murders to minor wars, and suddenly now she felt as though her entire body were going to melt, and she was grateful for his strong arm nearby as he led her downstairs. “I must be getting old.” She smiled ruefully as they waited for the cab. “I shouldn't be this tired.”

“It's the letdown. We all feel it eventually. It just hasn't hit me yet.”

“What'll you do?”

“Stay close, and catch a few hours of sleep here if I can. I called my secretary last night after I called you, and she'll cancel all my appointments today. Someone else on the team will cover for me this morning, and I'll do rounds myself this afternoon.” But she knew that he had to be dead on his feet now, not that it showed. He was as dynamic and alive as he had been hours before. And he looked down at her gently as he put her in the cab. “When are you going back to New York?”

“I'll have to go back tonight. They won't let me stay another day.”

He nodded, pleased that he'd caught her the night before. “There won't be anything else for you to film anyway, Mel. From now on, we watch, and we juggle the doses of the medication to something she can tolerate. You saw everything there was to see last night.” She looked into his eyes again.

“Thank you for letting us be there.”

“It was good to have you there. Now go and get some sleep.” He gave the driver his address and closed the door before the cab disappeared into the Los Angeles traffic and headed in the direction of Bel-Air. As he watched her drive away, he was suddenly grateful that she was still there, and that he would see her again in a few hours. He was as confused as Mel about what he felt. But he felt something for her. That was for sure.

CHAPTER 9

At the house in Bel-Air, Mrs. Hahn was standing near a window, waiting for her, and with barely more than a hello, she led Mel upstairs to the guest room. Mel thanked her and looked around, starving and exhausted all at once, and longing for a hot bath, but too tired to do anything about any of it. She dropped her briefcase and her handbag beside the bed, wondering if she'd catch up with her suitcase again in New York, but right now she didn't really care. She lay down on the bed fully clothed and began to drift off to sleep thinking of Peter and Marie, just as she heard a soft knock on the door. She turned over in surprise, and pulled herself back to consciousness again. “Yes?”

It was Mrs. Hahn with a small wicker tray. “The doctor thought you should have something to eat.” She felt like a patient as she eyed the plate of steaming scrambled eggs and toast, and a cup of hot chocolate that she could smell halfway across the room. “I didn't bring you coffee so you would sleep.”

“Thank you so much.” It was embarrassing to be waited on, but the food looked wonderful to her as she sat up on the edge of the bed, her jacket rumpled, her shirt creased, her hair disheveled from the way she had lain. And without another word, Mrs. Hahn set the tray down on a small table beside the bed, and left the room again.

And as Mel devoured the eggs and toast, suddenly ravenous, she heard soft bumping sounds upstairs, and wondered if it was Matthew or Pam getting ready for school. But she didn't have the strength to be polite and go upstairs to see them. She downed the hot chocolate, ate the last of the toast, and lay down again, sated, exhausted, pleased with her night's work, and lying on her back, she closed her eyes with her head on her arms, and it was three o'clock in the afternoon when she awoke again. She looked at her watch in shock, and jumped off the bed, but she suddenly realized there was nowhere she had to go. She wondered what Mrs. Hahn would think of her sleeping all day, and any minute the children would be home. And when she'd gone to sleep they had just been getting up to go to school. And then as she walked around the room, she began wondering how Marie had fared for the past seven hours. She saw a phone on a desk across the room, and walked to it in stocking feet, looking down at the wrinkled clothes she wore. She dialed the hospital at once, asked for the cardiac floor, and then for Peter himself, and the woman who answered told her that he could not be called to the phone, and Melanie wondered if he was asleep too.

“I was calling to see how Marie Dupret, the transplant patient, is.” There was a silence at the other end. “This is Melanie Adams. I was in the operating room last night.” But she didn't need to say more. Everyone in the hospital knew who she was, and that she was doing a story on Peter Hallam and Pattie Lou Jones.

“Just a moment please.” The voice was crisp and she was put on hold, and then an instant later she heard a familiar voice.

“You're awake?”

“Barely, but I am. And mortified to have slept all afternoon.”

“Bull. You needed it. You were ready to pass out when you left here. Did Mrs. Hahn give you something to eat?”

“She certainly did. This is the best hotel in town.” She smiled as she looked around die comfortable, well-decorated room, and imagined that here again all had been arranged by Anne. “How's Marie?”

“She's doing great.” He sounded pleased. “I couldn't take the time to explain it to you last night, but we tried a new technique, and it worked. I'll draw you a few sketches later, but suffice it to say for now that so far, so good. We won't know about rejection anyway for at least a week.”

“How long before she's out of the woods?”

“A while.” The rest of her life, Mel knew. “We think she'll do fine. She met all our criteria for a potential success.”

“I hope she keeps it up.”

“So do we.” She was struck again by how little of the credit he took for himself, and couldn't help but admire him again.

“Did you get any sleep?”

He sounded vague. “Some. I decided to do rounds myself this morning, and I lay down for a while after that. I'll probably come home tonight for dinner with the kids. I can leave someone else in charge here by then.” And then he had a thought. “I'll see you then, Mel.” He sounded so friendly and warm, and she was suddenly anxious to see him again.

“Your children are going to get awfully tired of me.”

“I doubt that. They'll be thrilled that you're still here, and so am I. What time's your plane, or have you thought about that yet?”

“I guess I'll take the same flight tonight.” She felt rested enough to tackle the red eye, after sleeping all day. “I should leave here at eight o'clock.”

“That works out fine. Mrs. Hahn feeds us at seven as a rule, and I'll be home by six if all goes well here. If anything comes up, I'll give you a call.” For a moment, she could almost imagine him saying the same thing to Anne, and it felt strange to listen to him, as though she were trying to take the dead woman's place, but she chided herself for being foolish as he said good-bye. There was nothing unusual about what he had said, and she was irritated with herself for fantasizing again. And as though to wash away her thoughts of him, she walked into the shower and turned it on full blast, dropped her clothes on the bed, and stood beneath the steam. It occurred to her then that she could also swim in the pool but she didn't want to go outside yet. She needed time to wake up and clear her head, it had been a long night, and when she got out of the shower she realized that she had to call the studio in New York, and then Raquel. She had asked the story editor to call her home the night before, and she hoped he had. And Raquel confirmed that to her when she reached her home number. The girls were disappointed that she hadn't come home that day, but she promised that the following morning she'd be there. And then she called the newsroom and told them that all was well. She reassured them that the transplant had been an enormous success, and they had gotten every moment of it on film.

“It's going to be a great piece, guys. You'll see.”

“Agreed. It'll be good to see you back, Mel.” But she didn't entirely agree. She wasn't anxious to leave L.A., or Peter, there seemed to be so many reasons to stay here. Pattie Lou, Peter, Marie … all excuses, she knew, but she just didn't want to go.

She put down the phone and dressed and then left her room to find Mrs. Hahn. She found her in the kitchen, making pot roast for that night. Mel thanked her again for the breakfast she'd brought her when she arrived and apologized for sleeping all day.

Mrs. Hahn looked unimpressed. “The doctor said that was why you were coming here. Would you like something to eat?” She was efficient but not warm, and there was something intimidating about the way she spoke and moved. She was definitely not the kind of woman Mel would have wanted around her kids, and wondered that Peter did. He seemed wanner to her than that, and with no mother around … but again Mel remembered that she had been hired by Anne. Sacred Anne.

Mel declined the offer of food, and settled for a cup of black coffee, and then made herself a piece of toast. She sat in the bright garden room filled with white wicker chairs.

To Mel, it seemed the sunniest room in the house, and the one she was most comfortable in. The formality of the other rooms put her off, but this one did not, and she lay down on a chaise longue and ate her toast, looking out at the peaceful view of the pool. She didn't even hear footsteps and had no idea she wasn't alone until she heard the voice.

“What are you doing here?”

She jumped up with a start, spilling some of her coffee on her leg, but thanks to her black gabardine pants, she didn't get burned. And as she turned, she saw Pam. “Hello. You surprised the hell out of me.” She smiled, but Pam did not.

“I thought you were in New York.”

“I almost was. But I stayed to watch your father do a transplant last night. It was fabulous.” Her eyes lit up again as she remembered Peter's deft hands, but his daughter looked unimpressed and disgruntled.

“Oh yeah.”

“How was school, Pam?”

She stared at Mel. “This was my mother's favorite room.”

“I can understand that. I like it too, there's so much sunshine here.” But the comment had increased the awkwardness between them, just as Pam had intended.

Pam sat down slowly across the room from Mel, and glanced outside. “She used to sit here every day and watch me play in the pool.” It was well set up for that and just a pleasant place to be. Mel watched the girl's face and the sadness she saw there and she decided to take the bull by the horns.

“You must miss her a lot.”

Something hardened in Pam's face, and she didn't answer for a long time. “She could have had an operation, but she didn't trust my dad to do it.” It was a brutal thing to say, and inwardly Mel cringed if that was what Pam thought of Anne's decision.

“I don't think it was as simple as that.”

She jumped to her feet. “What do you know about it, except what he told you?”

“It was a choice she had a right to make.” But Mel knew she was treading on delicate ground. “Sometimes it's difficult to understand why other people do things.”

“He couldn't have saved her anyway.” She walked nervously around the room as Mel watched. “She'd have been dead by now, even with a transplanted heart.” Mel nodded slowly, most likely it was true.

“What would you have liked her to do?”

Pam shrugged and turned away and Mel saw her shoulders shake. Without giving it a second thought she went to her. “Pam …” She turned her slowly around and saw the tears running down the young girl's face, she gently took her in her arms and let her cry. Pam stood there for a few minutes leaning against Mel, as Mel gently stroked her hair. “I'm so sorry, Pam …”

“Yeah. Me too.” She pulled away at last and sat down again, wiping her face on her sleeve. She looked at Mel with misery in her face.” I loved her so much.”

“I'm sure she loved you too.”

“Then why didn't she try? She'd have at least been here till now.”

“I don't know the answer to that, maybe no one does, I think your father asks himself the same thing all the time, but you have to go on. There isn't anything else you can do, as much as it hurts.” Pam nodded silently, and looked at Mel.

“I stopped eating for a while. I think I wanted to die too.” At least it was what the psychiatrist had said. “Mark thinks I did it just to bug Dad, but I didn't. I couldn't help it.”

“Your father understands that. Do you feel better about things now than you did then?”

“Sometimes. I don't know …” She looked desperately sad, and there was so little Mel could say to help. All one could do was be there for her. She had two brothers, neither of whom could be of much help to her, a hardboiled German housekeeper who offered no warmth at all, and a father who was busy saving other people's lives. There was no doubt that this child needed someone else, but who? For a minute Mel wished that she could be there for her, but she had her own life to live three thousand miles away, her own children, problems, job.

“You know, Pam, I wish you'd come to visit me in New York sometime.”

“Your daughters would probably think I was dumb. My brothers do.” She sniffed loudly again and looked like a little girl.

Mel smiled gently at her. “I hope they're smarter than that, and boys don't always understand. Mark is going through his own adjustments growing up, and Matt is too young to be much help.”

“No, I'm not,” a small voice piped up. Neither of them had seen him walk into the room. He had just come home from school, dropped off by the car pool he rode in every day. “I make my bed, I take a bath by myself, and I can cook soup.” Even Pam laughed at that, and Mel smiled at him,

“I know, you're a terrific kid.”

“You came back.” He looked pleased as he walked toward her and sat down.

“No, I just left a little later than I thought. How was your day, my friend?”

“Pretty good.” And then he stared at Pam. “How come you're crying again?” And before she could answer he turned to Mel. “She cries all the time. Girls are dumb.”

“No, they're not. Everyone cries. Even big men.”

“My dad never cries.” He said it with enormous pride, and Mel wondered if Peter played a macho game with him.

“I'll bet he does.”

“Nope.” He was firm, but Pam intervened.

“Yes he does. I saw him once. After …” But she didn't say the words. She didn't have to. They all understood, and Matt glared at her.

“That's not true. He's tough. So's Mark.” And with that, Mrs. Hahn came into the room, and dragged Matthew away to wash his hands and face. He did his best to resist, but there was no swaying her, and Mel and Pam were alone again.

“Pam”—Mel reached out and touched her hand—“if there's ever anything I can do for you, if you need a friend, you call. I'll leave you my number when I go. Call me collect anytime. I'm fairly good at listening, and New York isn't all that far away.” Pam looked at her with watchful eyes and then nodded her head.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. Anytime.”

Pam nodded and stood up. “I'd better do my homework now. Are you leaving soon?” It was half hopeful, half not, as mixed as the rest of her feelings about Mel.

“I'm leaving for New York tonight. I';ll probably hang around here till about eight o'clock.”

“Are you eating with us?” She looked annoyed, and Mel remembered what she had said.

“Maybe. I'm not sure. Would you mind that very much?”

“No, that's okay.” And as she stood in the doorway she turned back to ask, “D o you want to borrow my bathing suit again?”

“I think I'll pass on that today, but thanks anyway.”

“Sure.” She nodded again and was gone, and a few minutes later Matthew bounded back into the room, bringing with him two books for her to read. It was obvious that they were both starved for attention as well as love, and he kept her busy and amused until Peter came home, and she saw that the day had finally taken its toll. He looked pale and tired, and she was sorry for him. There was so much for him to do here, as well, the children had such different needs, and his work used up so much of his energy and time. It was a wonder there was anything left for the children at all, but there was, whatever he could spare of himself at least.

“How's Marie?” Her eyes were full of concern and he smiled tiredly.

“Doing very well. Did Matthew drive you crazy all afternoon?”

“Not at all. And I had a nice talk with Pam.” He looked surprised.

“Well, that's something anyway. Want to come into the den for a glass of wine?”

“Sure.” She followed him across the house, and when they reached the den, she apologized again for taking advantage of his home.

“That's ridiculous. You put in a tough night last night. Why shouldn't you stay here for a day?”

“It was awfully nice.”

“Good.” He smiled at her and handed her a glass of wine. “So are you.” He seemed warmer to her again. Like his daughter, he seemed to run hot and cold toward Mel, but she had the same conflicting emotions too, and she wasn't at all sure how to handle them. She just looked into his eyes and sipped her wine, and they reverted to small talk about the hospital which almost felt like her second home now, and before they had finished their second glass, Mrs. Hahn knocked smartly on the door.

“Dinner is served, Doctor.”

“Thank you.” He stood up and Mel followed suit and walked beside him into the dining room, where they were rapidly joined by Pam and Matt, and Mark, who had come home just a few moments before, and Mel found herself caught up in their banter once more. She felt surprisingly comfortable with them all and when it came time to leave to catch her plane, she was actually sorry to go. She gave Pam a hug, Matt a good-bye kiss, shook Mark's hand, thanked Mrs. Hahn, and actually felt as though she were leaving old friends. She turned to Peter then, and shook his hand too.

“Thank you again. Today was really the best day of all.” She looked at his children standing nearby, and then back at him. “And now I'd better call a cab, or you'll be stuck with me again.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'll drive you to the airport myself.”

“I wouldn't think of it. You were up all night too. And you didn't sleep all day like me.”

“I slept enough. Come on, no nonsense now.” His voice was almost sharp. “Where's your bag?”

Mel laughed. “In New York, waiting for me, I hope.” He looked baffled and she explained. “It was already checked onto the plane last night when you called.” And then he laughed too.

“You really are a good sport.”

“Wrinkled, but a good sport and I wouldn't have missed that opportunity for anything in the world.” She looked down at the rumpled silk shirt she had forgotten for the past few hours. The state of her dress didn't seem very important here. “Anyway, don't be stubborn. Let me call a cab.” She looked at her watch. It was eight fifteen.” I really have to go.”

He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and waved them at her. “Come on, let's go.” He turned to the children and Mrs. Hahn. “If the hospital calls, I'll be home in an hour or two. I have my pager on me, so they can catch me if they have to.” Just to be safe, he called to check on both Marie and Pattie Lou again before they left, and the resident in charge said they were fine, and with that he escorted Mel to the door, she waved at the children for a last time, and they got into the car. She had the feeling that all her decisions were being made for her, but it was a pleasant change from constantly looking out for herself.

“There's something about you, Doctor. You seem to make up my mind for me and I can't even say I object.”

He laughed.” I guess I'm used to giving orders most of the time.” He smiled at her. “And being obeyed.”

“So am I.” She grinned. “But it's kind of pleasant taking orders from someone else for a change, even about something so simple as not taking a cab.”

“It's the least I can do. You've been my shadow for the past four days, and done something absolutely marvelous, I suspect.”

“Don't say that until you see the finished film.”

“I can just tell from the way you work.”

“That's a lot of faith. I'm not sure I deserve all that.”

He looked at her again. “Yes, you do.” And then he frowned, “B y the way, how was your talk with Pam?”

Mel sighed. “Touching. She's not a very happy child, is she?”

“Unfortunately, that's all too true.”

“She's tormenting herself about Anne.” It seemed strange to say his wife's name, it felt awkward on her lips.” I think she'll be all right in time. Mostly she needs someone to talk to.”

“I send her to a shrink.” He said it defensively.

“She needs more than that. And …” She hesitated and then decided to go ahead. “Mrs. Hahn doesn't seem very warm.”

“She's not, at least not outwardly, but she loves those kids. And she's extremely competent.”

“She needs someone she can talk to, Peter, and so does Matt.”

“And what would you suggest?” He sounded bitter now. “That I find a new wife just for them?”

“No. If you lead a normal life, you'll find one for yourself in time.”

“That's not what I have in mind.” She saw his jaw clench, and realized that they were both more tired than they knew.

“Why not? You were happily married before, you could be happily married again.”

“It would never be the same.” He looked sadly at Mel. “I really don't want to get married again.”

“You can't stay alone for the rest of your life.”

“Why not? You never remarried. Why should I?” It was a good point.

“I'm not the marrying kind. You are.”

He laughed aloud at that. “Well, that's a crock. Why not?”

“I'm just not. I'm too involved in my work to get tied down again.”

“I don't believe that. I think you're scared.” She almost flinched as he said the words; he had hit a nerve.

“Scared?” She sounded surprised nonetheless. “Of what?”

“Commitment, love, being too close. I'm not sure. I don't know you that well.” But he had certainly seen into her. She didn't answer for a long time; she just stared into the night as they drove along and then she turned to him.

“You're probably right. But I'm too old to change now.”

“At thirty-two, four, five, whatever you are? That's crap.”

“No, it's not. And I'm thirty-five.” She smiled. “But I like my life just as it is.”

“You won't when your daughters are gone.”

“That's something you should think of too. But in your case, your children need someone now, and so do you.” And then suddenly she began to laugh as she looked at him. “This is crazy, here we are practically shouting at each other, that we should each get married. And we hardly know each other.”

He glanced over at her with a funny look on his face. “The odd thing is that I feel as though we do. It seems as though you've been out here for years.”

She grew pensive then. “I feel that way too, and it really doesn't make sense.” And then suddenly the airport came too fast, and they were cast into the crowds and bright lights. He had tipped a porter so he could leave his car at the curb, and he followed Mel inside, sorry that they hadn't had more time to talk alone. After last night he felt even closer to her than before. It was as though they had shared something special, the saving of a woman's life. It was like being combat buddies, or something more, and he was even sorrier now to see her go than he had been the day before.

“Well, let me know how the film looks.” They stood awkwardly at the gate as the flight was called, and she found herself itching to be held in his arms.

“I will. Take care. And give my love to the kids.” There was a feeling of déjà vu to the scene, but it was more poignant than before. “And Marie and Pattie Lou.” Her voice was soft.

“Take care of yourself. Don't work too hard, Mel.”

“You too.” His eyes reached out to her, but there were no words for the confusion that he felt and he wasn't sure what to do. There was no privacy here, and he still wasn't sure what he felt for her.

“Thank you for everything.” And with that she shook him off guard by quickly kissing his cheek, and walking through the gate, giving him a last wave, and then she was gone, as he stood and stared, and his beeper went off at his side, and he had to hurry to a phone. He couldn't wait for the plane to take off. He called the hospital, and the resident had a question about Marie, she was running a slight temperature, and he wanted to know if Peter wanted any of the doses of her medications varied. He made the necessary changes and walked back to his car, thinking not of Marie, but of Mel, just as her plane took off, and the giant silver bird rose into the air, as Mel stared down at the endless parking lots below, wondering where he was, and if she would ever see him or his children again. And this time, there was no doubt in her mind. She was sad to leave, and sadder still to be going home. Tonight she didn't even try to convince herself that it wasn't true. She just sat staring out the window, thinking of him and the past four days, knowing that she liked him too much and it would get her nowhere. They led separate lives, in separate worlds, in cities three thousand miles apart, and that was just the way things were. And none of that would ever change.

CHAPTER 10

The flight to New York passed uneventfully, as Mel took out a notebook and jotted down notes about the past few days while they were still fresh in her mind. There were a number of things she wanted to touch on in her commentary on the piece. Then at last, feeling drained, she closed the book and lay her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The stewardess had offered her cocktails, wine, or champagne several times, but she had declined. She wanted to be left alone with her own thoughts, and after a while she drifted off to sleep for the last few hours of the flight. The trip from west to east always went too quickly to get much rest, with tail winds pushing the plane along, they made it to New York easily in just under five hours. She woke again with the sound of the landing announcement in her ears, and a stewardess touching her arm, asking her to fasten her seat belt before they would land.

“Thank you.” She looked up at the stewardess sleepily and stifled a yawn, as she fastened her seat belt and then opened her bag to take out a comb. She felt as though she had been wearing the same clothes for days, and wondered again if she would find her suitcase waiting for her in New York. It seemed aeons since she had almost gotten on the plane in L.A. some thirty hours before, and been stopped by Peter's call. And then her mind drifted back to him again. His face seemed to come alive before her again as she closed her eyes, and then forced herself to open them again as she felt the plane land on the runway in New York. She was home. And she had a mountain of work to do for the news and on the film she had done of him and Pattie Lou, and she had lots to do with the girls as well. She had her own life to lead, and yet there was the oddest feeling of regret to be back. She wished she could have stayed longer in L.A., but there was no need, and she could never have explained it to the network in New York.

She found her bag waiting for her in the special-services area of baggage claim, picked it up, walked outside and hailed a cab, and headed for New York City at full speed. There was no traffic at all at six thirty in the morning, and the sun shot darts of gold across the sky, which was reflected on the windows of the skyscrapers that lined the view. As they came across the bridge and headed south on the East River Drive, she felt something stir in her again. New York always did that to her. It was a splendid town. And suddenly it wasn't so bad to be home again. This was where she belonged. It was her town. And as she smiled to herself, she noticed the driver watching her in his rearview mirror with a curious look. As she often did to strangers, she looked familiar to him, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he had had her in the cab before, he thought to himself, or she was the wife of some important man, a politician or a movie star and he'd seen her in the news. He knew he'd seen that face somewhere before, but he wasn't quite sure where.

“Been away long?” He continued to search his mind as he looked at her.

“Just a few days, on the West Coast.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning right at Seventy-ninth and heading west. “I been out there once. But there ain't no place like New York.”

She smiled. New Yorkers were a breed unto themselves, loyal to the end, despite dog poop, debris, crime in the streets, pollution, overpopulation, and the city's myriad failings and sins. Nonetheless, it had a quality one found nowhere else, a certain electricity that touched one to the very core. And she could feel it even now, as she watched the city come alive, as they sped through its streets.

“It's a great town.” He voiced his passion for his hometown again, and Mel nodded her head.

“It sure is.” And suddenly it really was good to be back, and a happy feeling stirred her soul, as they pulled up in front of her house. And she was excited about seeing the girls again. She paid the cab, carried her bag inside, set it down in the front hall, and bounded upstairs to see her girls. They were both asleep, and she walked quietly into Jessica's room and sat down on the bed, and looked at her. Her flame-colored hair was spread out on the pillow like a dark red sheet, and she stirred as she heard her mother's voice and opened one eye. “Hi, lazybones.” She bent down and kissed her cheek, and Jessie smiled.

“Hi, Mom. You're home.” She sat up and stretched and then hugged her mother with a sleepy smile. “How was the trip?”

“Okay. It feels good to be back.” And this time she meant what she said. It did feel good. She had left California behind, along with Peter Hallam, and Marie Dupret, and Center City Hospital, and all that she had done since she left New York. “We did a terrific film.”

“Did you watch them operate?” Jessie was instantly intrigued. She would have given anything to have seen that, although her twin would have blanched at the thought.

“I did. I stayed to watch them do a transplant last night … no, the night before …” The time was all confused now in her head and she smiled. “Whenever it was, it was a success. It was extraordinary, Jess.”

“Can I see the film?”

“Of course. You can come down to the station before we air the piece.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She climbed slowly out of bed, her long legs seeming longer beneath a short pink nightshirt, and Melanie left the room to see the other twin. In her room, Valerie was buried in her bed, fast asleep, and it took several gentle shoves and taps to rouse her at all. Melanie finally had to pull the blanket away from her and tug at the sheets, until at last Val woke up with a sleepy growl.

“Cut it out, Jess …” And then she opened her eyes and saw Melanie instead. She looked surprised and confused, forgetting that her mother was due back. “How come you're home?”

“That's a nice welcome home. Last I heard, I live here.”

Valerie grinned sleepily and turned over on her side. “I forgot you were coming back today.”

“So what were you planning to do? Sleep all day and cut school?” She didn't really worry about that, about either of them, although Valerie was sometimes the less conscientious of the two.

“That's a nice idea. After all, school's almost out.”

“Then what do you say you hang in for a couple more weeks?”

“Awww Mom …” She tried to go back to sleep and Melanie tickled her instead. “Stop that!” She sat up with a shriek, defending herself against Mel's nimble hands. She knew all the places that tickled Valerie most, and a minute later they were laughing and Val was still shrieking as Jessica wandered into the room, and with a single bound, she leapt into the bed, and helped Mel out, and a minute later there was a pillow fight, which Valerie started in her own defense, and the three of them lay on the bed after a while, laughing and breathless, and Mel felt her heart soar. Whatever she did, wherever she went, it was always so good to come home to them. And almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she found herself thinking of Pam in Los Angeles, and how different her life was from all this. How much she would have benefited from a life like the twins', and how lonely she was. Over breakfast, once the twins were dressed, she told them about the Hallam kids, especially Pam, and they seemed sorry for her when Mel explained to them about Anne's death.

“That must really be rough on her.” The more compassionate of the two, Val was the first to express concern, and then she grinned. “And what's her brother like? I'll bet he's cute.”

“Val …” Jessie said it with a disapproving glance. “That's all you think about anymore.”

“So what? I'll bet he is.”

“Who cares? He doesn't live here. There are probably a lot of cute boys in L.A. What's that going to do for you in New York?” Jessie looked annoyed as she glanced at Val, and Mel was amused.

She addressed her younger daughter as she finished her tea. “Does that mean you've exhausted the supply in New York?”

Val laughed. “There's always room for one more.”

“I don't know how you keep their names straight.”

“I don't think she does,” Jessica was quick to add. In that one area, she disapproved of Val's style. Jess was more like Mel that way, independent, cool, cautious about getting involved with boys—too cautious at times—and it even worried Mel. Her life-style had clearly left its mark on the older twin. Maybe even on both. Perhaps that was why Val was always so anxious not to be without a beau. She didn't want to end up like Mel. “She just oohs and coos and smiles at them all in the halls at school, and I don't think they even care if she forgets their names.” It was more disapproval than jealousy at times like this, as Mel knew. Val's passion for the opposite sex seemed trivial to Jess, who frequently had more important projects of an intellectual or scientific bent on her mind, but she had her share of boyfriends too, as Mel reminded her gently when Val left the room, to get her books for school. “I know. But she acts like she doesn't have any sense. It's all she thinks about, Mom.”

“She'll get over it in a few years.”

“Yeah.” Jessie shrugged. “Maybe.” And then they hurried off to school on Ninety-first Street, off Fifth, ten blocks away, and Melanie was left to gather her thoughts and unpack. She wanted to get to the station early that day to sort through her notes, and she had just stepped out of the shower at ten o'clock, when the phone rang, and she picked it up, still dripping wet. It was Grant, and she smiled to hear his voice.

“So you're back. I was beginning to think you'd left for good.”

“Nothing quite so dramatic as that. Although the last day was fairly dramatic, in a different way. They found a donor for a transplant patient that was barely hanging on, and I missed my plane and went back to watch the surgery.”

“Your stomach is infinitely stronger than mine.”

“I'm not so sure about that, but it was fascinating to watch.” And again a vision of Peter flashed into her mind. “It was a good trip all in all, and how are you?”

“No change. I called the girls a few times to make sure they were all right, and they were fine. I can't keep up with their social lives, I'm afraid.”

“Neither can I. But you were nice to call.”

“I told you I would.” He sounded happy to hear her voice, and she was equally so to hear his. “How'd the little girl do?”

“Great. She looked brand-new the last time I saw her at the hospital. It's just amazing, Grant.”

“And the good doctor who did it all? Was he amazing too?” It was as though he already sensed what she felt, but she felt foolish admitting her feelings to him. She was too old for that. Sudden attractions like that were better left to Val.

“He was an interesting man.”

“That's all? One of the foremost cardiac surgeons in the country, and that's all you have to say?” And then suddenly he grinned. He knew her too well. “Or is it that there's more?”

“There isn't more. I just had a very hectic few days.” She wanted to keep her feelings about Peter Hallam to herself. There was no point sharing them with anyone, not even Grant. Most likely she would never see him again, and the words were better left unsaid.

“Well, when you settle down, Mel, give me a call, and we'll go have drinks sometime.”

“You're on.” But she didn't even feel like doing that right now. She was in her own private haze and she didn't feel like emerging from it yet.

“See you later, kid.” And then after a moment's pause. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Thanks, me too.” But it was a lie. Even the excitement of being back in New York didn't woo her this time.

As she left the house, she glanced at her watch, and saw that it was eleven o'clock. Peter would be in surgery by then. And suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to call the hospital and inquire about Marie, but she had to retreat back into her professional life now. She couldn't take on all their problems as though they were her own, Marie's heart, Peter's kids, Pam's empty, lonely life, little Matthew with the big blue eyes … suddenly she found herself longing for them again. And pushing them determinedly from her head, she hailed a cab and sailed downtown, looking at the city that she loved, as people scurried into Bloomingdale's and down into the ground to catch the subway, hailed cabs, or rushed in and out of skyscrapers on their way to work. It was like being part of a movie just being there, and she felt buoyant and alive, even with almost no sleep, as she walked into the newsroom with a happy smile.

“What's with you?” The story editor growled at her as he rushed past, carrying two cans of film.

“I'm happy to be back.”

He shook his head, muttering, as he disappeared. “Fool.”

She found a stack of mail on her desk, memos, summaries of major news items she'd missed while she was gone, and went out into the hall to watch the Teletypes coming in for a while. There had been an earthquake in Brazil, a flood in Italy that had killed a hundred and sixty-four people, the President was going down to the Bahamas for a long weekend to fish. The news of the day didn't look overwhelmingly bad or good, and when her secretary came to tell her that there was a call for her, she went back into her office and picked up the phone without sitting down, and answered absentmindedly, glancing at the memos on her desk.

“Adams here.”

There was a moment's pause, as though she'd thrown someone off with the brusque words, and she heard a long-distance purr. But she didn't even have time to wonder who it was. “Is this a bad time?” She recognized the voice instantly and sat down, surprised to hear from him. Maybe, with some time to think in her absence, he was getting worried about the piece.

“Not at all. How are you?” Her voice was soft and at his end he felt the same mysterious stirring he'd felt in his soul since they met.

“I'm fine. I finished surgery early today and thought I'd call to make sure you got back all right. Did you find your bag in New York?” He sounded nervous, and she was pleased by the call.

“I did. How's Marie?” Maybe he had called to give her bad news.

“She's doing beautifully. She asked for you today in fact. And so did Pattie Lou. She's the real star around here.”

Mel felt tears sting her eyes, and suddenly once again she felt the same ache she'd felt on the plane, of wanting to be in L.A. and not New York. “Tell her I send my love. Maybe when she's feeling a little better, I'll give her a call.”

“She'd love that. And how are your girls?” He seemed to be groping for something to say and Mel was both confused and touched.

“They're fine. I think Valerie fell in love a few more times while I was gone, and Jessica is desperately jealous that I got to watch the transplant. She's the more serious of the two.”

“She's the one who wants to go to med school, isn't she?” Melanie was surprised that he'd recalled and she smiled.

“That's the one. She read her sister the riot act this morning, about falling in love six times a week.”

Peter laughed from his little cubicle in the hospital on the West Coast. He had billed the call to his home phone. “We used to have the same problem with Mark when he was about Pam's age. But in the last few years he's settled down.”

“Ah, but wait for Matt!” Mel laughed. “That one's going to be the lady's man of all time.”

Peter laughed too. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you're right.” There was a comfortable pause and then Mel filled the gap.

“How's Pam?”

“She's all right. Nothing new.” He sighed into the phone. “You know, I think it did her good to talk to you. Just to be able to relate to someone other than Mrs. Hahn.” Mel didn't dare tell him what she thought of the icy woman. She didn't feel it was her place to speak up.

“I enjoyed talking to her too.” Her emotional needs seemed so desperate, and there seemed to be a lot of anger to vent too. Mel couldn't resist asking him then. “Did they get the little packages I sent yet?”

“Packages?” He sounded surprised. “Did you send them gifts? You shouldn't have done that.”

“I couldn't resist. I saw something perfect for Pam, and I didn't want to leave Matthew and Mark out. Besides, they were very tolerant about letting me hang around. As you said, you haven't seen people much since … in the past year and a half—she hastened to fill the awkward gap—“so it must have seemed strange to them to have me appear. The least I could do was send them a little surprise to thank them for their hospitality.”

He was touched by the thought and his voice was soft. “You didn't have to do that, Mel. We enjoyed having you here.” His words almost caressed her face and she blushed. There was something deeply intimate about this man, even by phone, with three thousand miles in between, and she found herself thinking of him again in ways she hadn't wanted to. It was almost impossible not to be drawn to him. He was at the same time vulnerable and strong, humble and kind and yet so full of the miracles he wrought. It was a combination which, for Mel, had enormous appeal. She had always liked strong men, and yet too often she had shied away from them. It was easier to get involved with lesser lights than he.

“I really enjoyed working with you, you know.” She wasn't sure what else to say, and still wasn't sure why he'd called.

“You stole my lines. That's what I was calling to tell you. I'd been very apprehensive about doing the interview. And you made me glad I decided to go through with it. Everyone here is.” But not as much as he was, though he didn't tell her that.

“Well, wait until you see it all on film. I hope you like it as much then.”

“I know I will.”

“I'm grateful for your faith in me.” And she truly was, but there was something more to what she felt as well, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.

“It's not just a matter of that, Mel. I …” He didn't quite know how to put his feelings into words, and suddenly wondered if he should have called. She was a woman who signed autographs and appeared on national TV. “I just like you a hell of a lot.” He felt as awkward as a fifteen-year-old boy and they both smiled, in L.A. and New York.

“I like you too.” Maybe it was just as simple as that, and there was no harm in it. Why was she fighting so hard against what she felt? “I liked working with you, meeting your kids, seeing your home.” And then she understood something else. “I think I was especially touched that you let me into your private life.”

“I think I felt safe doing that with you. I didn't plan it that way. In fact, I told myself before you came that I wasn't going to tell you anything personal about myself … or Anne …” His voice grew very soft again.

Mel was quick to respond. “I'm glad you did.”

“So am I…. I thought you handled the piece on Pattie Lou beautifully.”

“Thank you, Peter.” She liked what he had said. The trouble was that she liked too much about him. And then she heard him sigh softly at the other end. “Well, I guess I should let you go back to work. I wasn't even sure you'd be in after taking the red eye last night.”

She laughed softly at her end. “The show must go on. And at six o'clock I have the news to do. I was just watching the Teletypes come in when you called.”

“I hope I didn't interrupt.” He sounded contrite.

“No, it's kind of like watching the ticker tapes. After a while, you stop seeing what you read. And there's nothing major happening today, so far.”

“That's about the way it is here. I'm going to the office now. I have a lot of catching up to do, after keeping an eye on Marie and Pattie Lou for the past few days.” They were both back to their usual lives, their work, their kids, their responsibilities on separate coasts, and again she felt how much she had in common with him. He had as much resting on his shoulders as she on hers, in fact more. And it was comforting to know that there were other people in the world, carrying burdens and obligations as demanding as hers.

“You know, it's kind of nice knowing someone who works as hard as I do.” And he felt odd as she said the words. He had thought the same thing about her from the first. Even with Anne, it had bothered him sometimes that all she had to do was redecorate the house and buy antiques, work on the P.T.A. and chauffeur children from here to there. “I don't mean to sound presumptuous because my work doesn't include saving lives, but still, it's demanding as hell and most people don't understand that. Some nights I finish here and my brain is absolutely mush. I couldn't say an intelligent word to a living soul if my life depended on it when I got home.” It was one of the many reasons why she had never been tempted to marry again. She wasn't sure she could live up to the demands of it anymore.

But he felt as relieved as she. “I know exactly what you mean. But on the other hand, sometimes it's difficult not to have someone to share it with.”

“I never really have. As long as I've done well at my work, I've been alone, or more or less. I think it's easier like this.”

“Yes”—but he didn't sound convinced—“but then there's no one to share the victories with.” Anne had always been good at that, and good at sharing the heartbreaks and tragedies too. It was just that her life had never been as full as his, but on the other hand maybe that had left her freer to support him. It was difficult to imagine a working wife, and yet he had always admired hard-working teams, doctors married to other doctors, attorneys married to bankers, professors and scientists. The combinations seemed to feed on themselves, giving each one a new impetus, although at times it could also be a double drain. “I don't know the answers to all this, my friend. I just know it isn't always easy being alone.”

“Neither is being together.” She was convinced.

“No. But it has its rewards.” Of that he was sure. Especially when he looked at his kids.

“I guess that's true. I don't know the answers myself. I just know it's good talking to someone who understands what it's like to work like a mule, and then have to come home and be two parents instead of just one.” There had been times over the years when she thought she couldn't pull it off, but she had, and she had done well. Her job was secure, her success immense, her children happy, and they were good kids.

“You've done a good job, Mel.” They were words that meant more to her than anything else.

“So have you.” Her voice was like silk in his ears.

“But I've only done it alone for a year and a half. You've been alone for fifteen. That really means something.”

“Only a few more gray hairs.” She laughed softly into the phone. Just then one of the editors signaled to her from the door. And she signaled back that she'd be with him in a few minutes, as he disappeared again. “Well, it looks like they want me to go to work around here. One of the editors just showed up. I hope that means our film is in from L.A.”

“So soon?”

“It's complicated to explain, but they do it all by computers. We get it here within a day. I';ll let you know how it looks.”

“I'd like that.”

And she had liked hearing from him. “Thank you so much for calling me, Peter. I really miss you all.” The “all” kept it safe. It meant she didn't just miss him. It was like listening to Val and Jess on the phone, fencing with their boyfriends, she chided herself and then smiled. “I'll talk to you soon.”

“Good. We miss you too.” “We” instead of “I.” They were playing the same game and neither of them could figure out why, but they weren't ready for more. “Take care.”

“Thanks. You too.” They rang off and Mel sat at her desk for a long moment, thinking of him. It was crazy, but she was excited that he'd called. As excited as a little girl And she hurried down the hall to the editing labs with a grin on her face that she just couldn't erase. A grin that stayed there until she saw the film. She saw herself looking at him, and Pattie Lou and Pearl and even Marie and her transplant done at two A.M., and she felt her heart race each time he spoke, each time the camera looked into his eyes and saw the decency and caring there. She felt almost breathless when at last they turned on the lights. It was a sensational piece of film.

In its precut state it went on for hours, it would need much cutting and editing. But all she could think of as she left the room was him …

CHAPTER 11

That night, Melanie did the news again for the first time since she'd been back, and everything went as smoothly as it always did. She signed off with the pleasant, professional smile that people recognized everywhere across the entire United States, and as she walked off the set, she had no idea that Peter Hallam had been watching her intently in his den in L.A., and halfway through it Pam had walked into the room and stood there and stared. Peter hadn't even known she was there.

“Someone shoot the President or something, Dad?”

He looked at her, annoyed, it had been a long day and he wanted to see Mel before she went off the air. He had watched her before, but it had never been quite like this. He knew her now, and suddenly it seemed terribly important to see her after their call that day. “Pam, I'll come upstairs in a little while. I just want to be alone to watch the news.”

For a long moment, Pam stood there in the doorway, torn by her own feelings of anger and attraction to Mel. She had liked her when they met, but she didn't like the way her father looked when he saw her. “Yeah, sure … okay …” But he didn't see the look on Pam's face as she left the room and he sat staring at the set as Mel wound up for the day. He sat there for a little while longer, and then he turned off the set and went upstairs to visit with his children, he was truly exhausted. He had spent two hours with Marie that afternoon at the hospital. She seemed to be developing an infection, and was having a reaction to the medication. It was expected, but difficult anyway.

And in New York, Mel hurried home after doing the news, and had dinner with the girls, and then went back to the studio to do the eleven o'clock show, and it was after that that Mel saw Grant again for the first time. He was waiting for her on the set when she came off the air.

“You did a nice job tonight.” He looked down at her with a warm smile and he could see how tired she was. But he saw something else too. Something that hadn't been there before, a kind of glow. “How are you holding up with no sleep?”

“I'm beginning to fade,” she admitted with a tired smile, but she was glad to see him.

“Well, go home and get some rest.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I'm old enough to be, so watch your step.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted smartly, and a few minutes later she left, dozing sleepily in the cab.

She climbed the stairs to her room, peeled her clothes off and dropped them on the floor beside her bed, and five minutes later, she was sound asleep between her cool sheets, naked and peaceful, her mind empty at last of anything at all. And she didn't stir again until early next afternoon, when the phone rang and it was Peter again.

“Good morning. Is it too early to call?”

“Not at all.” She stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock. It was ten fifteen for him on the Coast. “How's life in L.A.?”

“Busy. I've got two triple bypasses scheduled today.”

“How are Marie and Pattie Lou?” She sat up in bed and looked around her room in New York.

“They're both fine. Pattie Lou more so than Marie.” She really had been a victory for him. “More importantly, how are you?”

“Honestly?” She smiled. “I'm dead.”

“You ought to get some rest. You work too hard, Mel.”

“Look who's talking.” She tried to pretend that it was normal for him to call, but secretly she was thrilled. “I'm going on a vacation soon anyway.”

“You are?” He sounded surprised, she hadn't mentioned it before, but where had there been time during her few days in L.A. “Where?”

“Bermuda.” She sounded pleased. She'd been looking forward to it for a long time. A television producer she knew had offered to rent Mel her house for a few days, and it didn't coincide with any school vacations for the twins, so she had just decided to go alone anyway.

He sounded nervous when he next spoke. “Are you going with friends?”

“No. By myself.”

“You are?” He sounded both stunned and relieved. “What an independent lady you are.” He admired her for that. He wasn't ready for a vacation alone yet. He would have been lost without the children, now that Anne was gone. But Mel had been alone for a lot longer than he.

“I just thought it might be fun. The girls are jealous as hell. But they have friends and a big prom that week.”

“I'm jealous too.”

“Don't be. It'll probably be very dull.” But it wouldn't have been with him. She forced the thought from her mind. “But it'll do me good.”

“Yes, it will.” He didn't begrudge her that. He just wished he could have been there with her, as crazy as the thought was. They were almost strangers to each other, although not nearly as much as they had been.

They talked on for a little while, and then he had to go off to surgery, and Mel wanted to go to the network to watch them edit some more of her film.

CHAPTER 12

The phone rang just as she was leaving the house the following Wednesday morning. She was in a hurry to get to Bloomingdale's. She desperately needed some more bathing suits, for the trip to Bermuda that week. She had looked over the ones from the summer before and they were all badly worn and stretched and faded. She lived in her bathing suits for two months, and every year they took a beating.

“Hello?”

“It's me.” It was Grant.

“What's up? I was just running out to buy some new bathing suits for my trip.” She was finally beginning to look forward to it. And she was leaving in two days. “Do you want me to pick anything up for you? I'm going to Bloomie's.”

“No, thanks. I forgot you were going down there. Need a butler or a male secretary while you're there?”

“No thank you.” She smiled at the phone, and he realized he'd hardly seen her since she got back from L.A.

“I just wanted to ask you a question about Marcia Evans.” She was the grande dame of legitimate theater and Mel had done an intimate interview with her six months before. “I'm having her on the show tonight.”

Mel cringed. “Good luck. She's a dragon.”

“Shit. That's what I thought. And the producer told me I had nothing to worry about. Any tips for my survival?”

“Bring along a snake-bite kit. She's the most venomous woman I've ever met. Just watch out that you don't piss her off. You'll see her coming.”

“That's a big help.” He didn't sound pleased, and he was furious with his producer for setting him up.

“I'll give it some more thought while I'm out shopping, and I'll call you when I get home.”

“Do you want to have dinner tonight, to give me courage?”

“Why don't you drop by to see the girls?”

“I'll try”—he grinned—“if nothing else interferes.”

“You and tits, Grant.” She laughed.

“I can't help it if I'm weak. I'll call you later, kid.”

“Okay.” He hung up, and she looked in the mirror and picked up her handbag. She was wearing a white linen dress with a black silk jacket and black and white patent leather shoes she had bought in Rome the year before. She looked very chic and she felt good. They had worked like demons for a week, editing the film on Peter Hallam and Pattie Lou Jones and she was just loving what they got as they went along. The piece was getting tighter and tighter, and as she reached the front door, the phone rang again, and she was tempted not to answer. It was probably the damn editor, wanting her to come in, and for once she wanted some time to herself to do her shopping. But it rang so persistently that she gave in and walked into the living room and picked up the white phone she had concealed in a nook there.

“Yes?” She waited, afraid she'd hear the editor's voice again. He had already called twice that morning. But it wasn't the editor at all. It was Peter Hallam again. He called her often.

“Hello, Mel.” He sounded hesitant after her gruff response when she picked it up and she was embarrassed.

“Hi, Peter, I'm sorry if I barked. I was just running out, but …” She felt young again, and nervous, just as she had when he'd called before. He had a funny effect on her, which seemed to cancel out her success and her self-confidence. She was just a young girl again when she talked to him … or maybe “just” a woman.” … it's nice to hear from you.” He hadn't called in a few days. “How's Marie?” Suddenly she was afraid that he had called to give her bad news, but he was quick to reassure her.

“Much better. We had a problem last night, and I thought she was going into a major rejection, but everything's under control again. We switched her medication. We think she might even be ready to go home in a few weeks.” It was something Melanie would have liked to see, but it didn't justify a trip West and her producer would never have let her go just for that.

“And the children?”

“They're fine. I just wondered how you were. I called you at the office but they said you weren't there.”

“I'm playing hooky.” She laughed and felt lighthearted and happy. “This is the weekend I'm going to Bermuda, and I needed to shop for a few things.”

“That sounds like fun. We're staying here for the long weekend. Mark is playing in a tennis tournament and Matthew's going to a birthday party.”

“The girls are going to that prom I told you about, and then to Cape Cod with a friend and her parents.” They seemed to hide a lot in talk of their children, and Mel found herself wondering how he was, not Pam and Mark and Matthew. And then she decided to ask him. “Are you all right, Peter? Not working too hard?”

“Of course I am,” he laughed, but he was pleased at the question. “I wouldn't know how to do anything else, and neither would you.”

“That's true. When I get old and wrinkled and have to retire, I won't know what the hell to do with myself every morning.”

“You'll think of something.”

“Yeah, brain surgery maybe.” They both laughed, and she sat down, as Bloomingdale's and the bathing suits slipped her mind completely. “Actually, I'd like to write a book then.”

“What about?”

“My memoirs.” She teased.

“No, really.”

It wasn't often that she confessed her dreams to anyone, but he was easy to talk to. “I don't know, I think I'd like to write a book about being a woman hi journalism. It was tough at first, although it's a lot easier now, but not always. People resent it like hell when you make it. They're half glad, and half pissed. It's been interesting coping with that, and I think it's something a lot of women could relate to. It doesn't matter if you do what I do, or you do something else. The issue is crawling to the top, and I know what that's like, how much work it takes and what happens when you get there.”

“It sounds like an instant best seller.”

“Maybe not, but I'd like to try it.”

“I've always wanted to write a book about heart surgery for the layman, what it's like, what to expect, what to demand of your doctor, what the risks are in specific situations. I don't know if anyone would give a damn, but too many people are unprepared, and get screwed over by their doctors.”

“Now, that sounds like a good one.” She was impressed, there was a need for a book like that and it would be interesting to see what he did with it.

“Maybe we should run away to the South Pacific together, and write our books. When the kids grow up,” he added.

“Why wait?” It was an amusing fantasy, but it suddenly reminded her of the trip to Bermuda. “I've never been to the South Pacific.” And she had been to Bermuda. It was tropical and it was close, but it was definitely not exciting. Or maybe it was that going alone didn't excite her. And Peter did? That question was frightening to answer.

“I've always wanted to go to Bora Bora,” he confessed, “but I can never get away from my patients for long enough to make it worthwhile.”

“Maybe you don't want to.” It was something Anne had accused him of too, and it was probably true.

“You may be right.” Somehow it was so easy to be honest with her. “I'll have to save it till I retire.” There was a lot he had saved like that, and now Anne was gone and it would never be shared after all. He had put so much off for “later” that he regretted now. There was no later. At least not for them. And he wondered at the wisdom of continuing to save things for “later.” What if he had a stroke, if he died, if … “Maybe I'll go sooner than that.”

“You ought to. You owe yourself something.” But what? All he wanted lately was her.

“Are you excited about your trip, Mel?”

“Yes and no.” She had been to romantic spots alone before. It had its drawbacks.

“Send me a postcard.”

“I will.”

And then, “I'd better let you go. Call me when you get back from your trip. And rest!”

“You need it as much as I do. Probably more.”

“I doubt that.”

She looked at her watch then, wondering where he was. It was nine thirty in the morning in California. “Aren't you in surgery today?”

“No. The last Wednesday of every month we have conferences to bring the whole team up-to-date on new techniques and procedures. We discuss what's being done all over the country, and what we've each tried to accomplish in surgery that month.”

“I wish I'd known. I would have loved to have that on film.” But she had enough without it.

“We start at ten o'clock. And I finished my rounds early.” He sounded boyish too then. “Calling you is a treat I've been promising myself for days.” It was easier to say things like that on the phone, and he was suddenly grateful for the distance between them.

“I'm flattered.” He wanted to tell her that she should be, that he had never called another woman, in that sense, since marrying Anne, but he didn't say it. “I've thought about calling you a few times too, to see how Marie was, but the time difference was always off.”

“That happened to me too. Anyway, I'm glad I called. Have a nice weekend in Bermuda.”

“Thank you. You have a nice one too. I'll call you when I get back.” It was the first time she had promised that in just that way, and she was already looking forward to it. “Our film is looking sensational, by the way.”

He smiled warmly. “I'm glad.” But that wasn't why he had called. “Take care of yourself, Mel.”

“I'll call you next week.” And suddenly she knew that a bond had formed between them that hadn't been there before, and as she left to go to Bloomingdale's, she felt young and excited and carefree.

She tried on two blue bathing suits, a black one, and a red one, but red had never been a good color with her hair, and she bought a rich royal-blue one and the black one. They were a little bit risqué, but she felt exotic today. And as she stood at the counter, smiling to herself, holding her charge card and the two bathing suits, waiting to be helped, she saw a woman in tears rush toward her. “The President's been shot!” She screamed to anyone who would listen. “He's been shot in the chest and the back, and he's dying!” The entire store seemed suddenly shot with an electric current as people shouted the news to each other and began running, as though their frenzied activity would help. But Mel, operating by reflex, dropped the bathing suits on the counter, and ran down three flights of stairs and out the door. She climbed into the first cab she saw, breathlessly gave the studio address, and asked the driver to turn on the radio as they drove. And both she and the cabbie sat frozen in silence as they listened to the news. No one seemed to know yet for certain if the President was alive or not. He had been in Los Angeles for a day, conferring with the governor and assorted civic leaders in L.A. He was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance moments before, critically wounded, as two Secret Servicemen lay dead on the pavement next to where he had stood. Mel's face was pale as she threw a ten-dollar bill into the driver's hands and hurtled through the double doors leading into the network building. Everything was already in total chaos there from the lobby to the newsroom, and as she flew toward the bureau chief's desk, he looked at her with relief.

“Christ, I hoped you'd get here, Mel.”

“I practically ran all the way from Bloomingdale's.” At least she felt like she had, and she would have if she'd had to. She knew that the one place she had to be was here.

“Ί want to put you on with special bulletins right away.” He looked at what she was wearing and she looked fine, but he wouldn't have given a damn if she'd been stark naked. “Get some makeup on. And can you close your jacket a little? The dress is too white for the camera.”

“Sure. What's new now?”

“Nothing yet. He's in surgery, and it looks bad, Mel.”

“Shit.” She ran to her office and where she kept her makeup, and five minutes later she was back, hair combed, face on, jacket buttoned, ready to go on the air. The producer followed her into the studio, and handed her a stack of papers for her to read quickly. She looked at him a moment later, with grim eyes. “It doesn't look good, does it?” The President had been hit in the chest three times, and his spine seemed to have been affected, from the early reports. Even if he lived, he could be paralyzed or worse yet, a complete vegetable. He was in Center City, undergoing surgery right then. And Mel suddenly wondered what Peter Hallam knew about it that the press didn't, but she didn't have time to call before she went on the air.

She went quickly to her desk then, and began ad-libbing soberly into the camera as she went on beneath the hot lights and she delivered the news bulletins as they came on. All normal programming had been stopped to give the public the news as it came, but there wasn't a great deal to say yet. She had to wing it for most of the afternoon, and she didn't get a break for three hours, when she was relieved by one of the other anchors, the man who did the weekend news. They had all been called in, and there was endless discussion and surmising on the air between reports from the West Coast, and moments when they switched to the reporters in L.A., standing in the lobby of Center City, so familiar now to Mel. She wished only that she were there, as she listened to the news. But by six o'clock there was still no news, except that he was still alive and had survived surgery. They would have to play a waiting game, as would the First Lady, who was in the air on her way to L.A. now, and due to arrive at LAX within the hour.

Mel did her usual show at six o'clock, and of course covered almost exclusively the news from L.A. and when she came off the air, the producer was waiting to confer with her.

“Mel.” He looked at her somberly and handed her another sheaf of papers. “I want you out there.” For a moment, she was stunned. “Go home, get your stuff, come back and do the eleven o'clock, and we'll run you out to the airport. They're going to hold a flight for you, and you can start reporting from out there first thing tomorrow morning. By then, God only knows what will have happened.” The man who had shot the President was already in custody, and lengthy profiles of his checkered past were on the air constantly, interspersed with interviews with major surgeons giving their opinions of the President's chances. “Can you do it?” They both knew it was a rhetorical question. She had no choice. This was what they paid her for, and the coverage of national emergencies was part of it. She mentally ran over the list of what she had to do. She knew from experience that Raquel would take care of the girls, and she would see them when she went home between shows to pack.

At home, she found the twins and Raquel in tears in front of the TV, and Jessica was the first to approach her. “What's going to happen, Mom?” Raquel loudly blew her nose.

“We don't know yet.” And then she told them the news. “I have to go to California tonight. Will you guys be okay?” She turned to Raquel, knowing her answer would be yes.

“Of course.” She almost looked insulted.

“I'll be back as soon as all of this is over.”

She kissed them all and left for the network to do the late news, and as soon as she came off the air, she left in the wake of two cops who had been waiting to escort her to their car downstairs. They all listened intently to the radio as they sped to the airport with the sirens shrieking. It was a favor the police occasionally did for the station. They made it to JFK by twelve fifteen and the plane took off ten minutes after she boarded. Several times the stewardesses came to give her bulletins transmitted by the pilots, as they got the news from towers and air controllers as they crossed the country. The President was still alive, but there was no way of telling for how long. It seemed an endless night as they flew to L.A. and Mel finally disembarked in Los Angeles feeling truly exhausted. She was met again by a police escort there, and she decided to go to Center City before going to her hotel and sleeping for a few hours. She would have to go to work at seven o'clock the next morning, and it was already four o'clock in the morning in L.A. But when she reached Center City, there was no further news, and she got to her hotel just before five A.M. She figured that she could sleep for an hour or so before reporting for work. She was just going to have to drink a lot of black coffee, and she requested a wake-up from the hotel operator so she wouldn't oversleep. They had booked her into a hotel where she had never stayed, but it was close to Center City. And suddenly she realized how strange it was that she was back in L.A. again so soon, and wondered if she would have time to see Peter. Maybe when it was all over. Unless, of course, the President died. She might have to fly back simultaneously with Air Force One to attend the funeral in Washington, in which case she would never see him. But she hoped for the President's sake that wouldn't happen. And she desperately wanted to see Peter in the next few days. She wondered if he'd known she was there.

She woke up instantly when the operator called, all her senses alert, although her limbs ached and she felt as though she hadn't slept at all. But she would have to operate on black coffee and nervous energy and stay on her feet somehow. She had done it before, and she knew she could do it this time. Dressing quickly in a dark gray dress, and high-heeled black shoes, she was out of the hotel and in the police car at six thirty and at the hospital ten minutes later, to get the latest details and go on the air. It was already almost ten o'clock in New York by then and the eastern portion of the country had been hungry for news for hours.

She saw the camera crew she had used before in the fray along with at least fifty other cameramen and two dozen reporters. They were camping out in the lobby and a hospital spokesman was giving them bulletins every half hour. And finally at eight o'clock, an hour after Mel went on the air, looking grave and impressive, the first bit of good news reached them. The President was conscious, and his spinal cord had been neither damaged nor severed. If he survived he would not be paralyzed, and there had been no brain damage from what they could tell so far. But he was still critically ill and hovering between life and death. His survival was not yet assured, and three hours later the First Lady joined them and spoke a few words to the nation. Mel was able to get three minutes of her time, and the poor woman looked grief-stricken and exhausted, but she stood speaking to Mel with dignity and a firm voice. One's heart went out to her as tears filled her eyes, but her voice never wavered. Mel let her speak, asked only a few questions, and assured her of the nation's prayers, and then miraculously was able to get a few moments later on with the President's surgeon. By six o'clock that night there was no additional news, and Mel was relieved by a local anchor, going on for the network. She was given five hours to go to her hotel and sleep, if she could. But by then she was so wound up, she couldn't sleep when she reached her room. She lay in the dark, thinking of a thousand things, and suddenly she reached for the phone, and dialed a local number.

Mrs. Hahn answered the phone, and without friendly preamble Mel asked for Peter, and he was on the line a moment later.

“Mel?”

“Hi. I don't even know if I make sense, I'm so cross-eyed, but I just wanted to call and tell you I was here.”

He smiled gently then. She sounded exhausted. “Remember me? I work at Center City too. Not to mention the fact that we do have a television set here. I saw you twice today, but you didn't see me. Are you holding up all right?”

“I'll do. I'm used to this. After a while, you just have to put your body on automatic pilot, and hope that you don't crash into a wall somewhere looking for a bathroom.”

“Where are you now?” She gave him the name of her hotel, and it struck him as remarkable that she was so near again. He had to admit that in spite of the horrendous circumstances, he liked it, although he wondered if he'd be able to see her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not right now. But if there is, I'll let you know.”

He felt like a complete ass asking her the next question, but he had to. “Is there any chance that … I can see you sometime? I mean other than across a crowded lobby full of reporters?”

“I don't know yet.” She was honest with him. “It depends on what happens.” And then she sighed. “What do you think will happen, Peter? What are his chances really?” She should have asked him before, but she was so tired she didn't think of it till just now.

“Fair. Depends on what kind of shape he's in. His heart's not involved or they would have called me in. I was in the operating room when they operated, just in case. But they didn't need me.” She hadn't known that from the reports, but she suspected that there was a lot of information held back. The only thing they knew everything about was the assailant, a twenty-three-year-old man who had spent the last five years in a mental hospital and had told his sister two months before that he was going to kill the President. No one took him seriously since he thought that his roommate at the hospital was God and the head nurse was Marilyn Monroe. No one even thought he knew who the President was, but he did. He knew well enough to almost kill him, and maybe succeed after all. “We'll know a lot more tomorrow, Mel.”

“If you get any inside leads, will you call me?”

“Sure. But why don't you get some sleep before you become the next patient?”

“I will, but I'm so damn keyed up I can't sleep.”

“Try. Just close your eyes and rest, don't think of sleeping.” His voice was soothing and she was glad she had called him. “Do you want a ride to the hospital tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” She laughed. “I have to be back at eleven o'clock tonight.”

“That's inhuman!” He was outraged.

“So is shooting the President.” They both agreed and she hung up, glad she had called. Melanie just hoped they could get together before she left L. A. It would kill her to have been there and to leave without even seeing him once, but they both knew it could happen. And as Mel rolled over on the bed in her hotel room, she prayed that it wouldn't.

CHAPTER 13

On Friday, Mel and the rest of the press crew spent a long anxious day in the lobby of Center City. There were half a dozen gofers assigned to bring them sandwiches and coffee, and periodically they went on the air to give their assorted news stations the latest bulletins on the President's condition. But on the whole, nothing changed much from six in the morning until seven that evening. And after coming back on duty at eleven o'clock on Thursday night, Mel didn't leave the hospital until eight o'clock Friday night, so exhausted that her head was throbbing and her eyes burning. She walked out into the parking lot and as she slid behind the wheel of the car that had been rented for her the previous night, her vision was so blurred that she was afraid to turn the key in the ignition and drive back to her hotel. And the voice that she heard seemed to be coming at her out of a thick fog, as she turned to see who was standing beside the car and speaking to her.

“You're in no condition to drive, Miss Adams.” At first she thought it was a cop, but as she squinted she saw a familiar face, and she smiled and leaned her head back against the seat. The window was rolled down all the way. She knew she had needed as much air as she could get so she wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel on the way home.

“Well, I'll be damned. What are you doing here?” Even in her state of near collapse, she could see that his eyes were a deep blue, and it was wonderfully comforting just seeing him there.

“I work here, or did you forget?”

“But isn't it late for you to be here?”

He nodded and watched the look in her eyes. She was happy to see him too, but she was too exhausted to move. “Move over. I'll drive you back to your hotel.”

“Don't be silly. I'm fine. I just have to …”

“Look, be practical, Mel. With the President here, when you wrap yourself around a tree in this car, they won't even give you a Band-Aid in the emergency room. Everyone in the whole place is rallying around him. So let's save ourselves a big headache, and let me drive you home. Agreed?” She didn't have the strength left to argue with him. She just smiled like a tired child, nodded her head, and slid over. “That's a good girl.” He glanced at her to see if she'd object to the term and was relieved that she didn't. She just sat there looking glazed and didn't seem to object to his taking over. He drove expertly through the L.A. traffic, which was still heavy at that hour, and glanced over at her from time to time. At last he spoke again. “You okay, Mel?”

“I'm just beat. I'll be okay with a little sleep.”

“When do you have to go back?”

“Not till six o'clock tomorrow morning, thank God.” And then she sat up a little straighter in her seat. “Do you know anything I should know about the President's condition?” But he only shook his head. “Shit, I hope he makes it.”

“So does everyone else in the country, so do I. You feel so helpless with something like this. But actually, you know, he was damn lucky. It could have been all over right away. In fact, from the X rays I saw it was damn close. He came within a hair of losing his life, or his mind, or at best his ability to ever move from the neck down. If the bullet had ricocheted a little differently than it did …” He didn't have to finish the sentence. The surgeons working on the President were his friends, and he was painfully up-to-date.

“I feel so damn sorry for his wife. She's being so brave, and she looks as though she's just barely hanging on to her last shred of hope.” She wasn't a young woman, and the last two days had been a terrible strain on her.

“She has a heart problem, you know. Only a slight one. But this is not exactly what the doctor ordered for her.”

Mel looked at him with a tired smile. “At least you're around in case she has a problem.” And she was suddenly very grateful that he was around for her too. She realized now that she would never have made it across the obstacle course of the freeway. She said as much to him as they pulled up in front of her hotel.

“Don't be silly. I wouldn't have let you drive like that.”

“I'm just lucky you were there when I came out.” She felt slightly revived, but only barely. And she hadn't figured out that he'd been waiting for her, having foreseen the problem. It was something he had wanted to do for her, and he was glad that he had. “Thanks so much, Peter.” They both got out of the car and he looked down at her.

“Will you get into the hotel all right?”

She smiled at the care he took of her. No one had been that preoccupied with her in years, if ever. “I'm fine. I can walk. I just can't drive.” But she would have, if she'd had to.

“I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. Quarter to six?”

“I can't let you do that.”

“Why not? Normally, I'd be there by six thirty. What difference does half an hour make?”

“Really, I can drive myself.” She was almost embarrassed by the attention, but he held firm.

“I don't see why you should have to.”

And suddenly she had a thought. “How are you going to get home from here?”

“Don't worry about that. I'll grab a cab back to the parking lot and pick up my car. Me, I'm wide awake. You're the one who's dead on your feet.”

“Oh, Peter, I didn't mean to …” But she yawned and cut off her own words and he laughed.

“Yes? Is there anything else you'd like to say to your public?” He was teasing and she was sorry she was so dazed by her long day.

“Just thank you.” Their eyes met and held for a moment outside the hotel. “And it's nice to see you again.”

“No, it isn't, you can't even see. For all you know, a perfect stranger just drove you home.” He guided her gently toward the door of her hotel and walked her into the lobby.

“All strangers should be so nice.” She mumbled softly.

“Now be good, and go up to your room and get some sleep. Have you eaten?”

“Enough. All I want now is my bed. Come to think of it, any bed will do.” The floor was even beginning to look good. He pressed the elevator button for her and propelled her gently inside and before she could say more, he stepped back.

“See you in the morning.”

She would have objected, but the doors closed, and the elevator deposited her on her floor. And all she had to do was walk to her room, open the door, close it again, and make it to her bed. All of which she did, feeling like a zombie. She didn't even bother to take off her clothes, she called the operator before she passed out, and left a wake-up for five o'clock in the morning, and the next thing she knew she was asleep, and the phone was ringing.

“Five o'clock, Miss Adams.”

“Already?” Her voice was hoarse and she was still half asleep. She had to shake herself awake, as she sat up with the phone in her hand. “Have you heard any news? Is the President still alive?”

“I believe so.” But if he weren't, they would have called her from the hospital, or the network in L.A.

Mel hung up and dialed the local station. The President was still alive, and there was no news since the night before. His condition was stable but still critical. She headed for the shower after that. It was too early to even order coffee. And then she went downstairs to stand outside the hotel at twenty to six, feeling that she should have insisted the night before that Peter not pick her up. There was no reason for him to chauffeur her around. It was silly really. But at exactly five forty-five, he picked her up, and opened the car door for her (he looked wide awake) and as she slid in beside him, he offered her a thermos of coffee.

“Good God, this is the best limo service I've ever had.”

“There are sandwiches in that bag.” He pointed to a brown paper bag on the floor and smiled at her. “Good morning.” He had correctly guessed that she hadn't eaten the night before, and he had made sandwiches himself to bring to her.

“It sure is nice having a friend in L.A.” She took a big bite of a turkey sandwich on white toast, and sank back gratefully against the seat of the Mercedes with a cup of coffee in her hand. “This is the life.” And then she looked over at him with a shy smile. “Somehow, when I left here two weeks ago, I didn't really think we'd see each other again. Or at least not for a long time.”

“That's what I thought too. I'm sorry it has to be over something as serious as this. But I'm glad you're here, Mel.”

“Know something?” She took another swig of the steaming coffee. “So am I. That's awful to say, given why I'm here. But I don't know …” She looked away for a moment and then back at him. “You've been on my mind a lot since I went back, and I wasn't sure why. Maybe coming back here will help me sort that out.”

He nodded. He had had the same problem. “It's difficult to explain to you what I've been feeling. I keep wanting to call you to tell you things, to give you the latest news about Marie … or a surgery we just did … or something one of the children said.”

“I think you've just been terribly lonely and I opened a door. Now you don't know what to do with it.” He nodded, and Mel looked thoughtful. “But the funny thing is that neither do I. You opened a door for me too, and I kept thinking of you when I went home. I was so glad when you called me that first time.”

“I didn't have any choice. I felt that I had to.”

“Why?” They were both looking for answers they didn't have.

“I don't know, Mel. It was actually a relief to know you were back. Maybe this time I'll find what I'm trying to say.” … or maybe I won't dare say it….

But Mel dared to ask the most difficult question. “Does it scare you?”

“Yes.” His voice almost trembled and he didn't look at her as he drove. “It scares me a lot.”

“If it's any consolation, it scares me too.”

“Why?” He glanced at her in surprise. “You've been out there on your own for years. You know what you're doing. I don't.”

“That's the whole point. I've been out there alone for fifteen years. No one has ever come too close. If they did, I ran off. But there's something about you … I don't know what to make of you, and I was so damn drawn to you when I was here before.”

He stopped the car in the parking lot of Center City and turned to face her. “You're the first woman I've been attracted to in twenty years, other than my wife. That scares the hell out of me, Mel.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. But it does. I've been hiding since she died. And all of a sudden I'm not sure I want to anymore.” They sat in silence for a long time, and Mel broke the silence first.

“Why don't we just wait and see what happens. Not push anything. Neither of us has risked anything yet. You've made a couple of phone calls, and I'm out here because the President was shot. That's all there is to it for now.” She was trying to reassure herself as much as him, but neither of them was convinced.

“Are you sure that's all there is to it?” His eyes were gentle and she smiled at him.

“No, I'm not. That's the trouble. But maybe if we take it slow, we won't scare ourselves half to death.”

“I hope I don't scare you, Mel. I like you too much to want to frighten you away.”

“I scare myself more than you ever could. I never wanted to get hurt again, or to depend on anyone but myself. I've built a fortress around me, and if I let anyone in, they might destroy what I've built, and it took me so damn long to put it all together.” It was the most honest thing she could have told him, and there were tears in her eyes as he watched her.

“I won't hurt you, Mel, ever, if I can help it. If anything, I would want to take some of that load off your shoulders.”

“I'm not sure I want to give it up.”

“And I'm not sure I'm ready to take it on.”

“That's okay. It's better that way.” She sat back against the seat for one more moment before she had to leave him. “The only thing that's too bad is that we're so far apart. You live here. I live there. We'll never find anything out like this.”

“Maybe we will while you're here.” He sounded hopeful, but she shook her head.

“That's not very likely while I'm working this hard.” But he wasn't willing to be discouraged. Not yet. He needed to find out what he felt for this woman who appealed to him so much. He looked at the big green eyes he had remembered so well. “The last time you were here, you followed me around while I was working. This time let me put myself at your disposal, as much as I can. Maybe we'll find a little spare time to talk.”

“I'd like that. But you see what it's like. I'm working day and night.”

“Let's just see. I'll see if I can ferret you out in the lobby later when I finish surgery and rounds. Maybe we can grab a sandwich.” She liked the idea, but she had no idea if she could get free.

“I'll do what I can to get away. But Peter, you have to understand that I may not be able to.”

“I understand that.” And then for the first time, he reached out and touched her hand. “It's all right, Mel. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.” But maybe she would. They both silently hoped that it wouldn't be too soon.

She smiled at him, enjoying the feel of his hand on hers. “Thanks for the ride to work, Peter.”

“At your service, ma'am.” He slid out and opened the door for her, and a moment later they were swallowed up by the crowd in the lobby. He turned back to glance at her once, but she was already deep in conversation with the other less-important members of the press who had spent the night in the lobby, and the elevator doors closed on him before she saw him again.

The news that Mel got was hopeful. The President was still alive, and half an hour before, a hospital spokesman had told them that there was some improvement in the President's condition.

At eight o'clock the First Lady returned. She was staying at the Bel-Air Hotel, and she was surrounded by Secret Servicemen who forced their way through the lobby. It was impossible to approach her although Mel and a host of others tried. The poor woman looked haggard and wan, and again Mel felt for her. At eight thirty she went on the air to New York, and again at nine for the noon news. All she could tell the nation was that the President was still alive. And she continued gathering bulletins throughout the day, without a moment to think of her own life, or Peter Hallam.

She didn't see him again until three o'clock, when suddenly he appeared beside her, looking impressive in his starched white coat and suddenly there was a surge of press around him. They thought he had arrived to give them news and it was almost impossible to shout above the din and explain that he was there to see a friend purely as a civilian. At last he and Mel escaped to a corner, although several members of the press thought she was getting a scoop on them. And finally in desperation, he pulled off the white coat and shoved it behind a trash can in the lobby.

“Christ, I thought they would maul me.”

“They would, given half a chance. I'm sorry.” She smiled tiredly at him. She had worked for nine hours straight and the only food she'd had was the sandwich he'd given her in the car, although she had drunk gallons of coffee all day.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Can you get away?”

She looked at her watch. “I have to go on in ten minutes for the six o'clock in New York. But I should be able to get free after that.”

“How long do you have to stay?”

“A few more hours. I should be able to leave by six o'clock. I can always come back at eight if I have to, to cover the eleven o'clock in New York. In fact, I probably will have to. But after that, I hope I'm through, unless something new develops.”

He was thinking. “Why don't I leave here now, and come back for you at six o'clock. We can go somewhere quiet for dinner, and I'll get you back here in time for you to do the bulletin for the eleven o'clock news in New York, and right after that I'll take you back to your hotel.”

“I'll probably be a zombie by then, and I may fall asleep in my dinner.”

“I don't mind. I've put people to sleep over dinner before. At least this time I can tell myself there might be an excuse.” He smiled at her, and felt an urge to pull her into his arms.

She smiled too. “I'd like to see you tonight.”

“Good. See you at six then.” He hurried off to his office then, and he returned exactly three hours later. And by then, Mel had dark circles under her eyes, and he could see when she got into his car that she was absolutely exhausted. She looked over at him with a tired smile.

“You know, Peter, any attraction you may have for me right now practically amounts to necrophilia.”

He laughed at the horrifying suggestion and made a face. “That was disgusting.”

“That's how I feel. How was work?”

“Fine. How's the President tonight?” He figured that now she knew more about it than he did. He was too busy with his own patients to worry about anyone else.

“He's holding his own. I'm beginning to think that he'll make it if he's held up for this long. What do you think?”

“I think you may be right.” And then he smiled. “I just hope he doesn't spring to his feet in the morning, so that you have to fly home tomorrow.”

“I don't think there's any danger of that for the moment. Do you?”

“Honestly, no.” He looked pleased and glanced over at her as he drove her to a restaurant nearby.

“How are the kids, by the way?”

“Fine. They know you're here from what they see on the news, but I haven't had time to tell them I've seen you.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

“Why not?” He looked surprised.

“Maybe it would make them nervous. Kids have remarkable antennae. I know mine do. Especially Jess. You can put something over on Val for a while, because she's always so wrapped up in herself. But Jessica almost senses things before they happen.”

“Pam's like that sometimes too. But the boys are different.”

“That's my point. And she has enough to contend with in her life, without worrying about me.”

“What makes you think she'd worry?”

“What makes you think she wouldn't? I mean think of it, her whole world has been turned upside down in the last two years, but at least she knows she has you. And there have been no women for her to compete with, in her mind at least. And then I come on the scene, and I'm an instant threat.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I'm a woman. She's a girl, and you're her father. You belong to her.”

“My being interested in someone wouldn't change that.”

“Subtly, in some ways, it might. I'm sure your relationship with Pam was different when your wife was alive. You had less time for her, you had other things to do. Now suddenly you're all hers, or almost. Changing that back again, and for a stranger, won't be very welcome.”

He looked pensive as he stopped the car in front of a little Italian restaurant.” I never thought of it that way.” And then he smiled slowly at Mel. “But I never had to. Maybe I should be a little cautious about what I tell her.”

“I think so.” She grinned. “Hell, you may never want to see me again after the next few days. You're about to see me at my worst. After enough days of no sleep, I start to fall apart.”

“Don't we all.”

“I didn't think you did. You seem to hold up miraculously with all that you do.”

“I have my limits too.”

“Me too, and I hit mine about two days ago.”

“Come on, let's get you fed. That'll help.” They walked inside, and the headwaiter gave them a quiet table. “Wine, Mel?” But she quickly shook her head.

“I'd pass out in my plate.” She laughed and ordered a small steak. She wasn't even hungry anymore, but she knew that the protein would do her good. And they enjoyed the dinner and the small talk, and she was amazed at how comfortable she was with him. He seemed interested in her work, and she already knew a great deal about his. It was a relaxing but stimulating conversation, and she sat back with her cup of coffee at the end, feeling content and sated. “You are an absolute godsend. Do you know that?”

“I'm enjoying it too.”

“This is not at all what I expected when I came to L.A.”

“I know.” He smiled. “By now, you thought you'd be in Bermuda.”

“Is that what day this is?” She had lost track of time and she hadn't even talked to the girls since she'd arrived, but she knew they'd all understand. And the girls were in Cape Cod anyway for the long weekend. She hadn't even realized it had begun, but it had. It felt as though she had already been in L.A. for weeks. And in a way, she wished she had been. She had never felt that way before. Her whole life centered on New York, as a rule, but not right now. Her life was here.

“I'm sorry you missed the trip to Bermuda, Mel.” “I'm not.” She looked frankly into his eyes. “This is where I'd much rather be.” He wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he reached out and took her hand.

“I'm glad. I'm happy you're back, Mel. I'm just sorry you have to work so hard.”

Her eyes were deadly earnest as they looked into his. “It's a small price to pay to see you.”

But Peter couldn't repress a sad thought. “I'm sure the President doesn't feel that way.” They shared a serious moment and then Mel regretfully looked at her watch. It was time for her to go back to work. He offered to take her back to the hospital and wait but she protested for his sake.” I can take a cab after I do the eleven o'clock,” which was only eight o'clock in L.A.

“Ί told you. For as long as you're here, I'm your chauffeur.” He looked embarrassed then. “Unless you'd rather not …”

This time she reached out and touched his hand.” I love it.”

“Good.”

He paid the check and they left and went back to Center City in time for her to announce to the viewers in New York that the President had a slight fever, but it was to be expected. And then half an hour later, Peter drove her back to her hotel, and dropped her outside, promising to be back at the same hour the following morning. And once again, she went inside and climbed into bed, but tonight it took her longer to fall asleep, and she was still awake when he called her half an hour later.

“Hello?” She was afraid it was bad news about the President.

“It's me.” It was Peter and she breathed a sigh of relief and told him why. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

“That's okay. Is something wrong?”

“No.” He hesitated and she could almost hear him breathing.” I just want to tell you that I think you're terrific.” He was startled himself and he could feel his heart beat faster. Melanie sat up in bed, feeling nervous and pleased all at once.

“I came to the same conclusion about you the last time I was here.”

He blushed and felt silly and she smiled and they chatted for a little while, and then hung up at last, feeling excited and scared and happy, like two kids. They were both taking tiny baby steps out on a limb, and it wasn't too late to turn back yet, but the balancing act got more delicate each day, and neither of them could figure out what would happen when she went back to New York, but it was too soon to worry about that. For the moment they were just enjoying walking along the limb.

Good night, Mel, see you tomorrow … she could still hear his voice ringing in her ears as she lay in the dark trying to go to sleep …and she felt as though she had just been invited to the senior prom by the most exciting guy around … it was funny how being with him made her feel so young again …

CHAPTER 14

The next morning, Peter picked her up again, and dropped her off at the hospital where she was told that the President was doing a little better. And for the first time in days she found that she had a few minutes to herself in the middle of the day, and on a sudden whim, she called the cardiac unit, and asked if she could visit Marie. She took the elevator to the sixth floor, and found her sitting up in bed looking pretty but pale, and her face had a new fullness to it. Melanie realized with sorrow that the unnatural bloating from the drugs was already setting in, but her eyes were bright and she looked happy to see Mel.

“What are you doing here?” She looked up at Melanie in surprise as she entered the room. There were still intravenous tubes in her arms, but she looked healthier than she had before the transplant.

“I came to see you. But not from New York, I'm afraid. I've been in the lobby for days, because of the President.” Marie nodded with a serious look in her eyes.

“What a terrible thing. Is he any better?”

“A little today. But he's not out of the woods yet,” and then suddenly she realized that it was a tactless thing to say, because Marie wasn't out of the woods yet either. She smiled gently at the young woman who was only a few years her junior, and whose life was held in such a delicate balance. “He's not as lucky as you are, Marie.”

“That's because he's not a patient of Peter Hallam's.” There was a warm glow in her eyes as she said his name, and Mel watched her as understanding dawned. Peter Hallam had become a god of sorts to this girl. And Mel suspected that she had a crush on him. It was not an unnatural occurrence, given her dependence on the man, and the fact that he had saved her life by performing the transplant. But it was only when Peter himself came into the room a little while later, and blushed as he saw Mel, that she saw something more. The remarkable communication between doctor and patient. He sat down beside Marie's bed, and talked to her in his quiet, soothing voice, and it was as though everyone in the room disappeared except them.

Mel suddenly felt like an intruder and left a little while later, returning to the mass of press still milling around the lobby. And she didn't see Peter again until he drove her back to the hotel that night. As she had the night before, she had a two-hour break, and then she had to return to the hospital at eight o'clock to do a live report for the eleven o'clock news in New York. And it was on the way to dinner that she mentioned Marie to him.

“She absolutely worships you, Peter.”

“Don't be silly. She's no different than any other patient.” But he knew what Melanie meant, there was a special bond between him and each of his patients and maybe particularly with Marie, who had no one to stand beside her. “She's a nice girl, Mel. And she needs someone to talk to while she goes through all this. You lie there all day and you think, sometimes too much. She needs someone to vent all that with.”

“And you are so eternally patient.” She smiled, wondering how he did it. He gave and he gave and he gave, almost beyond measure, of his skill, of his heart, of his time, of his patience. It was incredible to her how he did it.

And halfway through dinner his pager went off, and he had to return to the hospital for an emergency.

“Marie?” Mel asked worriedly as they hurried to the car.

He shook his head. “No, a man who came in last week. He needs a heart badly and we don't have a donor yet.” It seemed to be a never-ending problem for him, the absence of a heart when it was desperately needed.

“Will he make it?”

“I don't know. I hope so.” He wove his way expertly through the traffic and they were back at the hospital in less than ten minutes, and it was the last she saw of him that night. She got a message in the lobby before she went on the air that Dr. Hallam would be in surgery for several hours, and she wondered if that meant they had found a donor, or if Peter was trying to do whatever repair work he could in the meantime. She went back to her hotel alone in a cab, and she was surprised to find how much she missed him. She took a hot bath, and sat staring at the tile wall, sorry that she had questioned him about Marie. There had just been something in the woman's face when she said his name, and his tone with her had been so intimate. It almost made Mel jealous. She was in bed by nine thirty and slept soundly until her five o'clock call the next morning, and at five forty-five he was downstairs as always. But he looked tired this morning.

“Hi.” She slid into the car quickly and for an instant there had been almost a reflex reaction. She had been about to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but at the last minute she didn't. She searched his eyes, and suddenly realized that something was wrong. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

But she didn't believe him. “How was last night?”

“We lost him.” He started the car and Mel watched his profile. There was something hard and lonely in his eyes. “We did our best, but he was just too far gone.” And Mel suddenly understood something.

“You don't have to convince me.” Her voice was soft. “I know how hard you tried.”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need to convince myself.”

She reached out and touched his arm then. “Peter …”

“I'm sorry, Mel.” He glanced over at her with a tired smile, and she wished there were something she could do for him, but she wasn't sure what.

“Don't do that to yourself.”

“Yeah.” And then five minutes later, “He had a young wife and three small kids.”

“Stop blaming yourself.”

“Who should I blame?” He turned to her with a flash of sudden anger.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you're not God. That you aren't to blame? That you don't give the gift of life?” They were harsh words, but she could see that he was listening. “It's not in your hands, no matter how skilled you are.”

“He would have been a perfect candidate for a heart transplant, if we'd had a donor.”

“But you didn't. And it's over. Close the door.” They stopped in the hospital parking lot then, and he looked at her.

“You're right and I know it. And after all these years, I shouldn't punish myself, but I always do.” He sighed softly. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” There was something so comforting about her presence and he needed to be comforted.

She looked at her watch and frowned. “Sure. I'll just check in. There's probably nothing new.” But when she walked in, there was news. A bulletin was due to be delivered on the air in three minutes. The President had just come off the critical list. When the news was announced, a cheer went up in the lobby. For most of the members of the press, it would mean that they would go home soon, and could stop camping in the lobby of Center City.

Mel went on the air to deliver the news to the East as Peter watched. While the whole country would rejoice, she and Peter felt strangely depressed. Their eyes met when she went off the air.

“Will you have to go home now?” It was a worried whisper.

“Not yet. And I just got a memo. They want an interview with his wife today, if I can get it.” And at that moment, Peter was paged, and he had to leave her.

Mel sent a note upstairs to the President's wife, who had been sleeping in a room adjoining the President's for the last two days. A response came back a little while later. The First Lady would grant Mel an exclusive interview at noon, in a private room on the third floor, which ruled out any hope of having lunch with Peter, but the interview went well and Mel was pleased, and that afternoon another encouraging bulletin was delivered. The President was out of the woods. By that evening when Peter drove her out for a bite to eat, the atmosphere of tension had greatly abated.

“How was your day?” She collapsed against the seat and looked over at him with a smile. “Mine was a killer, but things are looking up.”

“I didn't stop all day. And Marie said to say hello.”

“Say hi for me.” But her mind was on other things. She was beginning to wonder how soon she would have to leave. There was a rumor that in a few days the President would be moved to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., but the First Lady had been unable or unwilling to confirm it.

“What are you thinking about, Mel?” She noticed that he looked less depressed than he had that morning.

She smiled. “Ten thousand things at once. We're hearing that they're going to send the President home soon. Do you think they can really move him?”

“Right now they'd be taking a chance, but if he continues to improve they could. And they can take all the equipment they'd need on Air Force One." He didn't seem cheered by the thought, and neither was Mel, but over dinner they forgot about it, and Peter began to tell her funny stories about Matt when he was two or three years old, and ridiculous episodes that had happened in the hospital when he was in training. From sheer exhaustion, they found themselves laughing like two kids, and when he drove her back to the hospital shortly before eight, she was in no mood to do the news with a serious face, and surprisingly they were both still in high spirits when they left Center City again half an hour later. There was something about being together that always buoyed them both and made life worth living.

“Do you want to come home with me for a drink?” He really didn't want to leave her yet, and suddenly he realized that she might be gone in a few days. He wanted to savor every moment of her presence.

“I don't think I should. I still think your kids would be upset.”

“What about me? Don't I have a right to see a friend?”

“Sure, but taking someone home can be a heavy trip. How do you think Pam would react to seeing me again?”

“Maybe that's an adjustment she'll just have to make.”

“Is it worth it for a few days?” Mel didn't think so. “Why don't you come to my hotel for a drink instead? It's ugly as sin but the bar looks halfway decent.” Neither of them was interested in drinking. They just seemed to want to sit and talk for hours until they were ready to fall over from exhaustion.

“You know, I could sit here and talk to you all night.” He was still amazed at the range of conflicting emotions he felt for her, excitement, attraction, respect, trust, fear, distance, and closeness all at once. But whatever it was, he couldn't seem to get enough of it. The presence of Mel Adams in his life was apparently addictive. He was hooked, and he didn't know what to do about it.

“I feel the same way and the funny thing is that we hardly know each other, and I feel as though I've known you for years.” She had never enjoyed talking to anyone as much, and that still frightened her a little when she allowed herself to think of it. It was a subject neither of them discussed but both of them thought of. She was the brave one tonight, as she looked at him over their second Irish coffee. The drinks seemed to pick them up, while putting a soft edge on things, it was the mixture of coffee and whiskey that did it, enhanced by the heady effect each of them had on the other. “I'm going to miss you like crazy when I go back.”

He watched her carefully over his drink. “So am I. I was thinking of it this morning after I dropped you off. What you said about the patient last night made a lot of sense. You kind of took my day out of the ditch and picked me up again. I was headed for a real tailspin. It's going to be strange when I'm not picking you up at your hotel at six o'clock every morning.”

“You might even get some time to yourself again, and to spend with your kids. Are they complaining yet?”

“They seem to be wrapped up in their own lives.”

“So are the twins.” Although they were due back from Cape Cod that night. “I'll have to call them if I can get the hour difference worked out right. When I wake up, they've left for school, and when I come home they're asleep.”

“You'll be home soon.” But he said the words with sorrow and she didn't answer for a time.

“It's a crazy life I lead, Peter.” She looked him straight in the eye as though asking him how he felt about it.

“But fulfilling, I suspect. We both seem to go nonstop, but it's not so bad if you like what you do.”

“That's how I've always felt.” She smiled, and he reached across the table for her hand. It was the only contact they ever had, but it was a comfortable gesture now. “Thank you for everything you've done for me, Peter.”

“What? Drive you back and forth to the hospital a few times? That's hardly a monumental favor.”

“It's been nice though.” She smiled and he smiled in return.

“It has been for me too. It'll be strange when you're not here anymore.”

She laughed. “I'll probably be standing outside my house in New York at quarter to six every morning, waiting for you to come around the corner in your Mercedes.”

“I wish …” They fell silent then, and the check arrived. He paid it, and they walked slowly into the lobby. It was late and they both had to get up early the next morning, and as they said good night to each other, Melanie found herself wishing they didn't have to.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Peter.” He nodded, and waved as the elevator doors closed, and then he went home, thinking about Mel, and wondering what life would be like again without her. He didn't even want to think of it as he undressed. And in her hotel room, Mel stood for a long time staring out the window, thinking of Peter, and the things they had said to each other in the past few days, and suddenly she felt an ache of loneliness well up in her, unlike any she had felt before. Suddenly she didn't want to go back to New York at all. But that was crazy. It was just what she had felt when she was in L.A. before, only more so. But she went to bed with the uneasy feeling that night that Peter Hallam was deeper under her skin than she wanted him to be. And yet when she was with him, she didn't think of that. She just talked to him with the ease usually born of years of knowing someone. He made her feel that way each time she saw him, and she wondered for a moment, if that was only his bedside manner. She fell into an uneasy sleep that night, and she was relieved to see him the next morning. She slipped quickly into the car, and they made the familiar drive to the hospital, chatting easily, and then suddenly Peter laughed and turned toward her.

“It's kind of like being married, isn't it?”

She felt herself go pale. “What is?”

“Going to work together every day.” He looked sheepish. “I have a confession to make. I like routine. I'm a creature of habit.”

“So am I.” She smiled back, feeling better again. For a moment she had been frightened. She settled back against the seat and watched the hospital loom toward them. “I wonder what news awaits me today.” The President had been making steady progress, and they were just waiting for news of his being moved.

Nonetheless, when the announcement came that morning that the President was leaving for Washington the next day with a team of doctors, on Air Force One, she was stunned, and felt as though someone had delivered a blow to her solar plexus. The air whooshed out of her in one gasp—a barely audible “No.” But it was true. He was leaving. And once again, all was chaos in the lobby. Bulletins went on the air, interviews with doctors, Mel had to make a dozen calls to New York. They were asking for clearance for her for Air Force One, but thus far the only news was that six members of the press would be allowed on the plane. Silently, Mel found herself praying all day not to be among the lucky six, but at five o'clock she got a call from New York. She was among them. And they were leaving at approximately noon the next day. She was expected to be at the hospital at nine o'clock, to cover all the preparations. And when she met Peter in the parking lot that night, her whole body sagged as she got into the car.

“What's the matter, Mel?” He could see instantly that something was wrong. He had had a long day himself, in surgery for four hours, putting in a plastic heart, which he hadn't wanted to do in the first place. But in this particular case, there had been no other solution. They had already tried everything else, and there was no donor in sight for a transplant. But he knew how great a risk they ran now in regard to infection. And Marie had had a number of problems today too. But he didn't say anything to Mel as she turned to him with an unhappy look on her face.

“I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“Shit.” He stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “Well, we knew you wouldn't be here forever.” It took him a few minutes to regain his composure and then he started the car. “Do you have to come back tonight?”

She shook her head. “I'm finished until nine o'clock tomorrow morning.”

At that he smiled more gamely and looked over at her with gentle eyes. “Then I'll tell you what, why don't I drop you off at your hotel, let you relax for a while, and change if you want, and we'll go somewhere nice for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Lovely. You're sure you're not too tired?” She noticed now that he looked exhausted.

“Positive. I'd love it. Do you want to go back to the Bistro?”

“Yes”—she smiled finally—“the only place I don't want to go back to is New York. Isn't that awful?” She would have been gone for a week, but it felt as though she had been gone for a year, and suddenly her life in New York loomed into perspective. The six and eleven o'clock news, the twins, her daily routine. At that precise moment, none of it was appealing, and she was still depressed when she went upstairs to change. The only thing that cheered her was when she saw Peter again, when he picked her up at seven thirty. He was wearing a dark gray flannel double-breasted suit, and she had never seen him look as handsome. All that she had had to wear was a beige silk dress with a heavy cream silk jacket that she had brought to wear on the air, but hadn't taken out yet.

And they looked like a very distinguished pair as they walked into the Bistro. And the headwaiter gave them a lovely table. Peter ordered their drinks, and the waiter brought the chalkboard to the table, showing them the menu. But Mel wasn't even hungry. All she wanted to do was talk and be near Peter, and she found herself wanting to cling to him numerous times during the evening. And finally after the chocolate soufflé and the coffee, he ordered brandy for them both and looked at her sadly.

“I wish you weren't leaving, Mel.”

“So do I. It sounds crazy, but it's been a wonderful week, in spite of all the hard work.”

“You'll be back.” But God only knew when. She hadn't been to L.A. for over a year before she'd come out to interview him. It was just a fluke that she had come back again so soon.

“I wish we didn't live so far away from each other.” She said it mournfully, like a little girl with a new best friend, and he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.

“So do I.” And then, “I'll call you.” But then what?

It was impossible to find the answers, they had lives at opposite ends of the country, with children, homes, careers, friends. None of it could be stashed into a suitcase and moved. The phone calls and occasional visits would have to be enough for Mel and Peter. It was almost more than she could bear to recognize that fact, as they walked along Rodeo Drive after dinner.

“I wish our lives were different, Peter.”

“Do you?” He seemed surprised. “How?”

“At least we could live in the same city.”

“I agree with you there. But otherwise, I'd say we're pretty lucky, now that we know each other. It's added a lot to my life.”

“Mine too.” She smiled and their hands knit tighter, as they walked, each lost in thought for a little while.

He looked down at her, his hand still in hers. “It's going to be damn lonely around here without you.” He heard the echo of his own words and couldn't believe he had said them, but he had, and he was less frightened of what he felt now. The brandy helped, and a week in her company had been like a gift he had never expected. He had grown fonder of her each day, and the prospect of seeing her go really depressed him, much more than he had expected.

Eventually they made their way slowly back to the car, and he took her back to her hotel, until at last they sat outside, and looked at each other in the lamplight. “Will I see you tomorrow, Mel?”

“I don't have to be there until nine.”

“I'll be surgery at seven. What time does the President's plane leave?”

“At noon.”

“Then I guess this is it.” They both sat sadly, looking at each other and then without saying a word, he leaned toward her and gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. She closed her eyes and felt her lips melt into his, and she felt as though her insides were flying through her ears. She was almost dizzy when he stopped and she clung to him for a long moment and then looked at him and let her fingers touch his face, and then his lips, as he kissed the tips of her fingers. “I'm going to miss you, Mel.”

“Me too.”

“I'll call you.” But then what? Neither of them had any answers.

And without saying anything more he pulled her close to him again and held her for a long time, and at last he walked her back into the lobby and kissed her one last time before she disappeared into the elevator. And then slowly, he walked back to his car, and drove away, feeling something heavy in his heart that he hadn't felt since he'd lost Anne. And he had never wanted to feel that again. It frightened him that he had come to care about her so much. It would have been so much easier if he hadn't.

CHAPTER 15

When Mel arrived at the hospital the next day, she was allowed to go upstairs with a two-man crew and speak to the First Lady briefly, while preparations were being made for the President's removal. They would be leaving the hospital at ten o'clock, arriving at Los Angeles International Airport shortly before eleven, and they would take off as soon as possible after that. The President was doing well, but the First Lady was obviously extremely worried. His condition was stable, but it was difficult to predict what might happen in the air. Nonetheless, he wanted to go back to Washington, and his physicians had approved the plan.

Mel completed the interview and waited in the hallway, until forty-five minutes later when the President appeared on a stretcher. He waved his arm to the nurses and technicians lining the hall, and he smiled gamely and murmured greetings, but he still looked deathly pale, was heavily bandaged and there was an intravenous tube running into his arm. There were a fleet of Secret Servicemen surrounding the gurney, interspersed with doctors and nurses who would be returning to Washington with him. Mel fell into step at a respectful distance, and took another elevator to the lobby, where she joined up with the handful of other select reporters flying east on Air Force One. A separate limousine had been reserved for them, and she stepped into it with one glance back over her shoulder at Center City. She would have liked to have left a message at the desk for Peter before she left, but there was neither the opportunity nor the time, and a moment later they sped away toward the airport.

“How'd he look to you?” The reporter next to her asked briefly, checking some notes while lighting a cigarette with one hand. They were a relaxed group of pros, but nonetheless there was a faint hint of electricity and tension in the air. It had been an endless week for them all, and it would be good to get home and unwind. Most of them were returning to their home base as soon as they reached Washington, and the network had already booked a seat to New York for Mel at ten o'clock that night. She would be picked up at LaGuardia at eleven and taken home. In a way, she felt as though she were returning from another planet. But she was not at all sure she wanted to go home now, as her mind lingered on Peter's words, and his face, and his lips the night before.

“Hm?” She hadn't heard the reporter's question.

“I said how did he look?” The older reporter looked annoyed and Mel narrowed her eyes, thinking of the President as he lay on the gurney.

“Lousy. But he's alive.” And unless something drastic happened on the flight east, or he met with severe complications, it was unlikely that he would die now. He was a very lucky man, as they had all said again and again on the air. Other presidents had not been as lucky with assassination attempts as this one.

There was the usual banter between them on the way to the airport, dirty jokes, exchanged bits of gossip and old news. No one ever gave anything away, but this was not as tense a trip as the one out had been for all of them. Mel thought back to the week before, and to seeing Peter again for the first time. She wondered now when she would see him next. She couldn't imagine another opportunity presenting itself in the near future, and the realization of that depressed her.

The reporter sitting next to her glanced her way again. “You look like the last week got you down, Mel.”

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes averted. “I' m just tired, I guess.”

“Who isn't?”

And half an hour later they boarded the plane and sat in the passenger area in the rear. A sort of hospital-room arrangement had been made for the President toward the front, and none of them were allowed near it. Every hour or so, during the flight, the press secretary would join them and tell them how the President was doing, but it was an uneventful flight for them all and they reached Washington in four and a half hours and had the President settled at Walter Reed Hospital within an hour after that, and suddenly Mel realized that it was all over for her. The network's Washington correspondent had met them at the airport, and after accompanying the President to Walter Reed along with the others who had come from L.A. and glimpsing the First Lady once more, Mel stepped outside to the limousine waiting for her and went back to the airport. She had an hour left before her flight to New York, and she sat down, feeling as though she were in shock. The last week was beginning to seem like a dream and she wondered if she had imagined Peter and the time she had spent with him.

She walked slowly to a telephone booth at an adjacent gate, put a dime in the slot, and called her home collect. Jessie answered and for a moment, Mel felt tears fill her eyes, and she suddenly realized how exahusted she was.

“Hi, Jess.”

“Hi, Mom. Are you home?” She sounded like a child again as her voice filled with excitement.

“Almost, sweetheart. I'm at the Washington airport. I should be at the house by eleven thirty. God, I feel like I've been gone a year.”

“We've missed you like crazy.” She didn't even reproach her mother for not having called. She knew how impossible her schedule had been. “Are you okay?”

“Wiped out. I can't wait to get home. But don't wait up. I'm going to crawl in and pass out.” It wasn't just the fatigue that was getting to her now. A kind of depression was setting in, as she realized how far away she was from Peter. And that was foolish too. But she couldn't seem to stop the feelings anymore.

“Are you kidding?” Jess sounded outraged at her end. “We haven't seen you in a week! Of course we'll wait up. We'll carry you upstairs if we have to.”

Tears filled Mel's eyes as she smiled at the phone. “I love you, Jess.” And then, “How's Val?”

“She's okay. We've both missed you.”

“I've missed you too, sweetheart.” But something important had been happening to her in California. There was a lot she needed to sort out, or at least absorb, and the only people she wanted to see or talk to right now were the twins.

They were waiting in the living room when she got home, and they fell into her arms one by one, delighted to have her home again, and as Mel looked around, her house had never looked as good to her as it did now, or her children.

“Boy, it's good to be back, you guys!” But a tiny part of her said it wasn't. A tiny part of her said she wanted to be three thousand miles away, having dinner with Peter. But that was all behind her now and she had to forget it, at least for now.

“It must have been awful, Mom. It looked like you almost never left the hospital lobby from what we saw on the news.”

“Hardly ever except for a few hours sleep here and there …” And time spent with Peter … She looked into their eyes, almost expecting them to see something different about her. But they didn't. There was nothing to see, except what she felt deep inside, and she kept that well hidden. “Have you two been behaving all week?” Val brought her a Coca-Cola and she smiled gratefully at the voluptuous twin. “Thanks, love.” And then she grinned. “Are you in love again, young lady?”

“Not yet.” She laughed into her mother's eyes. “But I'm working on it.” Mel rolled her eyes and they sat and chatted for a long time, and it was one o'clock in the morning by the time they all went upstairs. They kissed their mother good night outside her bedroom and went up to their own floor as Mel went to unpack her bag and take a hot shower, and when she looked at the clock again, it was two o'clock in the morning … eleven o'clock on the West Coast … suddenly all that seemed to matter was where he was and what he was doing. It was like being constantly torn in two. She had a life to lead here in New York, and yet she had left a part of her three thousand miles away. It was going to be a difficult way to live, at least for now, and she still had to sort out what it all meant to her … what Peter Hallam meant to her … but, secretly, she already knew.

CHAPTER 16

The next morning, Grant called her just before noon, and woke her up, and his voice made her smile as she rolled over in bed and looked out at the brilliantly sunny June day.

“Welcome home, old girl. How was L.A.?”

“Oh, charming.” She smiled and stretched. “I just sat around by the pool and soaked up the sun.” They both laughed, knowing what a rat race she'd been in. “How've you been?”

“Busy, crazy, the usual. What about you?”

“What do you think with that insanity out there?”

“I think you must be dead on your feet.” But she didn't sound bad.

“You're right. I am dead.”

“Are you coming in today?”

“Tonight, to do the six o'clock. I don't think I'll make it in before that.”

“Good enough. I'll keep an eye out for you. I've missed you, kid. Will you have time for a drink?” Time, yes, but the inclination, no. She still wanted some time to herself to sort things out. And she didn't feel like saying anything to Grant about it yet.

“Not tonight, love. Maybe next week.”

“Okay. See you later, Mel.”

As she got out of bed and stretched, she thought of Grant and smiled to herself. She was lucky to have a friend like him, and just as she went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, she heard the phone ring, and wondered if he was calling her back again. Not many people called her at home at noon, and hardly anyone knew she was back from the Coast yet. They wouldn't know that until they saw her on the news that night. Mel picked up the phone with a puzzled frown, hovering naked at her desk, looking out at the garden behind the house.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mel.” He sounded faintly nervous and her heart seemed to give an enormous jerk as she heard his voice. It was Peter, and she could hear the hum of long distance. “I wasn't sure if you'd be home, and I only had a few minutes, but I thought I'd call. Did you get home all right?”

“Yes … fine …” Her words seemed to tangle on her tongue and she closed her eyes, listening to his voice.

“We took a little break between surgeries today, and I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you.” And with one short sentence, he turned her heart upside down again and she didn't answer. “Mel?”

“Yes … I was just thinking …” And then she threw all caution to the winds and sat down at her desk with a sigh. “I miss you too. You sure turn my life topsy-turvy, Doctor.”

“I do?” He sounded relieved. She did the same to him. He had barely slept the night before, but he hadn't dared to call and wake her up. He knew how exhausted she was when she left. “Do you realize how crazy this is, Peter? God knows when we'll see each other again, and here we are like two kids, having a mad crush on each other.” But she looked happy again as they talked. All she had wanted was to hear him.

He laughed at her choice of words. “Is that what this is? A crush? I wonder.”

“What do you think?” She wasn't sure what she was fishing for, and she was a little bit frightened of what she would get. She wasn't ready for declarations of passionate love from him, but he wasn't ready to give them either. She was still safe. But the worst of it was that she didn't even know if she wanted to be safe from him.

“I think that's about right. I'm in crush with you, Mel, is that how you say it?” They both laughed and Mel felt like a little girl again. He did that to her every time, and he was only nine years older than she was. “How are the girls, by the way?”

“Fine, And your troupe?”

“They'll do. Matthew was complaining last night that he never sees me. We're going to go fishing or something this weekend if I can get away. But it depends on how this next surgery goes.”

“What are you doing?”

“A triple bypass, but there shouldn't be any complications.” And with that he glanced at the clock in the little room from which he'd called. “Speaking of which, I'd better get back and scrub again. I'll be thinking of you though, Mel.”

“You'd better not. You'd better think of the patient.” But she was smiling. “Maybe I should start ending the news with ‘And good night, Peter, wherever you are.’”

“You know where I am.” His voice was so gentle it made her ache for him.

“Yeah. Three thousand miles away.” She looked sad.

“Why don't you come out for a weekend?”

“Are you crazy? I just left there.” But she loved the idea, as impossible as it was.

“That was different, you were working. Take some time off and come out for a visit.”

“Just like that?” She was amused.

“Sure. Why not?” But she suspected that it would have terrified them both if she'd done that, and she wasn't ready to take such a major step toward him.

“It may come as a shock to you, Dr. Hallam, but I have a life here, and two children.”

“And you take July and August off every year. You told me that yourself. Take the girls to Disneyland or something.”

“Why don't you come visit us at Martha's Vineyard?” They were playing a game with each other and they both knew it, but it felt good to do it.

“First, my friend, I have to do a triple bypass.” End of round.

“Good luck. And thanks for calling.”

“I'll call you later, Mel. Will you be home tonight?”

“I'll be home, between shows.”

“I'll call you.” And he did, and her heart leapt again. She had just finished dinner with the girls, and he had just gotten home from his office. And it threw her into a tizzy until she left to do the eleven o'clock show, and she told herself it was crazy. She forced her mind back to the news time and again as she delivered it, and she managed to keep her concentration until she went off the air, but when she saw Grant outside his studio she looked totally distracted.

“Hi, Mel. Something wrong?” He was going on in fifteen minutes and they didn't have much time to talk.

“No. Why?”

“You just look funny. You okay?”

“Sure.” But there was a dreamy look in her eyes and he felt as though she wasn't really there. And then suddenly he understood. He had seen a look faintly like it in her eyes once before, although she hadn't seemed as intensely stricken as she did now. He wondered who it was and couldn't figure out when she had found the time. Or where. New York or L.A.? He was somewhat intrigued, and Mel looked as though she was in a different world.

“Go home and get some sleep, kid. You look like you're still half out of it.”

“I guess I am.” She smiled at him and watched him walk onto the set and then she left, but she realized that Peter's calls that day had set her back again. And how on earth was she going to concentrate on her work? She could barely think straight.

She went home in a cab and let herself into the house. The girls were already in bed and Raquel had taken a few days off to make up for the previous week, and Mel sprawled out on the living room couch, thinking of her life. She thought of Peter's suggestion to come out to L.A., but that was crazy. The only answer was to hang in for the next few weeks in New York, and get to Martha's Vineyard. Maybe then she could sort out her head as she did every year. Things would get back to normal there with the sun and the sea and the totally relaxed life she led there.

CHAPTER 17

“Is everybody ready?” Melanie called upstairs from the downstairs hall, and looked around for a last time. She was closing the house in New York for the summer, and her two large suitcases were already in the hall, along with all three tennis rackets, two large straw hats belonging to the girls, Mel was wearing hers, and Raquel's small green vinyl suitcase. She came with them every year for six weeks, and took the last two weeks off and returned to New York alone for her vacation. “Come on, you guys! We have to be at the airport in half an hour!” But they were only going to LaGuardia, so she knew that they would make it.

There was a wonderful upbeat feeling to their departure every year and she always felt like a young girl again as they left for Martha's Vineyard. She had signed off on the news the night before and she and Grant had gone out for a drink after his show to celebrate her temporary release, and things had been relaxed between them, but he could see in her eyes that she was still confused, and lately she had been tired and nervous. She had worked long hours at the station, finished the piece on heart surgery in California, and done two major interviews and a feature before she left, so they'd have them to use during the summer. She was, as always, conscientious about her work, and lately it seemed to be taking more of a toll than it had before, but Grant had suspected that it was because of the emotional whirl she was in, although he still knew none of the details. And in fact, Peter was still calling her every day, and Melanie still had no idea what would ever come of it, if anything. And lately, she'd even been worrying about her contract which had to be renewed in October. There were a lot of political changes at the station, and there was talk of a new owner, and God only knew what that would mean. But Grant reassured her when they went out that she had absolutely nothing to worry about, and Peter said the same when she confessed her concern to him. But nonetheless it had been on her mind, and now all of it could be packed up and put away for two months. She wouldn't think of work, or even Peter or Grant. She was just going to Martha's Vineyard, to relax with her daughters. But not if they didn't come soon, she told herself as she waited in the front hall with Raquel, and then finally they came thundering down the stairs with assorted games and books and bags in their arms. Valerie was carrying an enormous stuffed bear.

“Val … for God's sake …”

“Mom, I have to. Josh gave him to me last week and his parents have a house in Chappaquiddick, he'll be coming over to see us and if I don't …”

“All right, all right. Just get all this junk put together, please, and let's get our asses in a cab and get to the airport or we'll never get there.” Going on a trip with the girls was always a challenge. But the cabdriver actually managed to get almost all of it squashed in his trunk, and they finally took off with Mel and the girls in the backseat, Val carrying the enormous teddy, and Raquel in the front with the hats and the tennis rackets. As they sped along toward LaGuardia, Mel mentally ticked off a list, making sure that she had locked the garden door, and all the windows, turned on the burglar alarm, turned off the gas … there was always that sinking feeling that you'd forgotten something. But they were all in high spirits by the time they got on the plane, and as they left the ground, Mel had a feeling of relief that she hadn't had in weeks, as though she were leaving all her confusion behind in New York, and she would find peace in Martha's Vineyard.

Peter had been calling her once and twice a day, and as much as she enjoyed their conversations, she tormented herself about them. Why was he calling? When would they see each other again? And finally, what was the point? He admitted to the same confusions as she, but they seemed unable to stop moving inexorably forward on this path toward an unseen goal that still frightened them both and that they did their best not to talk about. They stuck to safe subjects, and now and then admitted how much they missed each other. But why, Mel asked herself too often, why do I miss him? She still didn't know the answer, or didn't want to.

“Mom, do you think my bike's still good or it got rusty?” Valerie was staring into space on the plane, hugging her bear, and looking totally happy, as a man across the aisle stared at her in lustful fascination. Mel was just glad she hadn't let her wear the little blue French short shorts she had worn to breakfast, and threatened to wear on the trip to Martha's Vineyard.

“I don't know, love. We'll have to see when we get there.” The woman they rented the house from every year allowed them to leave a few things in the basement.

In Boston they rented a car and drove to Woods Hole, where they took the ferry across to Vineyard Haven. The ferry was the part of the trip they all liked best. It gave one the impression of leaving the real world far behind, and all its responsibilities with it. Melanie stood alone at the railing for a few minutes, letting the wind whip her hair, and feeling freer than she had in months. She realized suddenly how desperately she had needed a vacation. And she enjoyed the few moments alone before the girls came to find her. They had left Raquel talking to some man on the lower deck, and when she joined them at last they teased her about it. And Mel suddenly laughed at a mental image she had of Peter's Mrs. Hahn, she could hardly imagine anyone teasing her, or of her flirting with a man on a ferry. But for all Raquel's independent ways, they loved her, and she was pleased to see Jess give her a hug once before they landed. Even Raquel smiled. The Vineyard was a haven for them all, and when they reached the familiar house in Chilmark, the girls went running barefoot down on the beach, and chased each other as far as they could, while Mel watched them.

It was as easy settling in as it was every year, and by nightfall the four of them looked and felt as though they had been there for a month. They had gotten pink cheeks from the few hours they spent on the beach that afternoon, they were unpacked, and the teddy bear was ensconced in the rocking chair in Val's room. The house was comfortably furnished, but there was nothing fancy about it. It looked like a grandmother's house, with a porch and a wicker swing, and flowered chintzes in all the rooms, and at first it always had a musty smell which went away in a few days, and they no longer noticed. It was just part of the familiarity of Chilmark. The girls had been coming here since they were little, and, as Mel explained to Peter when he called that night, Chilmark was part of home.

“They love it here and so do I.”

“It sounds very New England, Mel.” He tried to envision it from her description. Long beaches, white sand, a casual life-style of shorts and sweat shirts and bare feet, and a smattering of intellectuals who came from New York, and gathered from time to time for lobster dinners and clambakes. “We go to the mountains every year, to Aspen.” It was totally different from Martha's Vineyard, but sounded intriguing too as he described it. “Why don't you come and bring the girls? We're going for the first ten days in August.”

“You couldn't pry them away from here for a million dollars or a date with their favorite rock star. Well …” She reconsidered the last and they both laughed. They had an easy telephone relationship going, but it seemed so unreal at times. They were disembodied voices lodged in the phone night after night, but never getting any nearer.

“I don't suppose I could pry you away.”

“I doubt it.” There was a strange silence then and Mel listened, wondering what was on his mind, but when he spoke again, he sounded as though he were teasing.

“That's too bad.”

“What is?” He wasn't making sense, and she was wonderfully relaxed after dinner. She didn't want to play games on the phone, but he was obviously in a playful mood.

“That you don't want to leave there.”

“Why?” Her heart began to thump. He was making her oddly nervous.

“Because there's a conference I've been asked to attend in New York, to speak to a group of surgeons from all over the East Coast. They'll be gathering at Columbia Presbyterian.” She didn't answer for a moment as she held her breath and then she spoke in a rush.

“They will? And you're going?”

“I could. Normally I'd refuse, particularly at this time of year. New York in July is no treat, but I thought that maybe under the circumstances …” He was blushing furiously at his end, and Mel gasped.

“Peter! You're coming?”

He laughed softly, amused at them both. They really were like two kids. “I told them yes at three o'clock this afternoon. Now what about you and Martha's Vineyard?”

“Shit”—she looked around the room with a grin—“we just got here.”

He was quick to ask, “Would you rather I not come? I don't have to.”

“For chrissake, don't be an ass. How long do you think we can go on like this? Calling each other twice a day and never seeing each other?” It had been only three and a half weeks since she left California, but it felt more like three years to them both, and they needed to get together again to resolve at least some of their feelings.

“That's what I thought too. So …"H e laughed again, pleased with the prospect.

“When do you arrive?”

“Next Tuesday.” And then he added softly. “I wish it was tomorrow.”

“So do I.” Her face sobered. And then she whistled. “That's only six days away.”

“I know.” He grinned, he was as excited as a child. “They took a reservation for me at the Plaza.” But as he spoke, Mel had a thought. She was hesitant to voice it, for fear of putting them both in an awkward spot, but if they could handle it, it might work out well.

“Why don't you stay at the house? The girls won't be there, and you could have their whole floor to yourself. It would be a lot more comfortable for you than a hotel.”

He was silent for an instant, weighing the pros and cons as she had before she asked. Staying under one roof could prove to be very awkward, and it was quite a commitment … but on a separate floor … “You wouldn't mind? It would be easier, but I wouldn't want to put you out, or …"H e bumbled over the words and she laughed and stretched out on her bed, still holding the phone to her ear.

“It makes me just as nervous as it makes you, but what the hell, we're grown-ups, we can handle it.”

“Can we?” He smiled at the phone. He wasn't sure he could. “And can you leave the girls alone?”

“No, but Raquel is here, so that'll be fine.” She was suddenly wildly excited that he was coming. “Oh, Peter, I can't wait!”

“Neither can I!”

And the next six days dragged unbearably for them both. They spoke on the phone two and three times a day, and Raquel finally caught on that there was someone important calling Mel but the girls seemed not to see it. On Sunday night, Mel casually mentioned that she had to go to New York for a few days, and she'd be leaving on Tuesday morning, but the news was met with dropped jaws and staring eyes. She had never gone back to New York for anything, except the year Jess broke her arm and Mel wanted her to see an orthopedic man in New York. But they had only stayed for two days, and that was important. This time Mel said she'd be back on Friday afternoon, which meant four days away. They found it hard to believe that she was going, but she insisted that there was a problem with one of her features at work and she had to go back and watch them edit. The girls were still amazed when they went back to the beach that night to meet some friends and build a fire, but Raquel eyed her shrewdly as they cleared the table.

“It's serious this time, huh?”

Mel avoided her eyes, and carried a stack of plates into the kitchen. “What is?”

“You can't fool me. You got a new man.”

“That's not true at all. The man is a subject I did an interview with.” But she couldn't meet Raquel's eyes, and she knew that if she did, she couldn't convince her. “Just keep an eye on the girls while I'm gone, especially Val. I notice that the Jacobs boy is all grown-up, and drools every time he sees her.”

“He won't do no harm. I'll watch them.” And then she watched Mel retreat into her room and walked into the kitchen with a grin and a cigarette. She was certainly no Mrs. Hahn, but she was a sharp old woman and she loved them.

And on Tuesday morning, Mel took the ferry back, and flew from Boston to New York. She reached the house at four o'clock in the afternoon, which gave her plenty of time to air the place out, and then turn the air conditioning on, go around the corner to buy fresh flowers and whatever groceries they might need, and then come back and get ready to meet him. His plane wasn't due in until nine, and she left for the airport at seven thirty to be cautious, which was just as well, because the traffic was heavy and cars were overheating left and right and it was eight forty-five when they got there. She had just enough time to check the gate at which he would arrive and then hurry out there, and then stand tapping her foot nervously for the next half hour, as they were fifteen minutes late. And at nine fifteen exactly, the big silver bird drew up to the gate, and passengers began deplaning. She stood watching intently as the people poured off, with California tans, and straw hats, and bare golden legs, and silk shirts open to the waist with gold chains, and then suddenly she saw a man who looked nothing like any of them in a beige linen suit and a blue shirt and navy tie, his hair only slightly bleached from the sun, and his face tan. But there was a serious air about him, as he walked toward Mel and looked down at her where she stood, and then without further ado he bent to kiss her. They stood there for what seemed like a very long time as people eddied around them like a river cascading past rocks, and then he looked at her and smiled.

“Hello.”

“How was the flight?”

“Not nearly as nice as this.” He grinned, and with that they walked hand in hand to pick up his baggage, and then went to hail a cab. But time and time again they stopped to kiss as they made their way out of the airport, and Mel wondered how she had ever survived without him. “You look wonderful, Mel.” She had a deep tan which set off her green eyes and copper hair and she had worn a white silk dress with a flower in her hair and white high-heeled sandals. She looked summery and healthy and happy, and her eyes seemed to drink his as though she had waited for him for a lifetime.

“You know, I haven't been to New York in years.” He looked at the ugly scenery passing by as they drove into town, and shook his head. “I always turn them down, but I figured this time …” He shrugged and leaned over to kiss her again. She hadn't expected him to be as bold, or herself to be as comfortable with it. But the endless conversations on the phone seemed to have given them an ease with each other they might otherwise not have had. They had only known each other for two months now, but it felt like two years, or twice that.

“I'm glad you didn't turn them down this time.” She smiled at him and then returned her gaze to the road. “Are you hungry?”

“Not very.” For him it was only quarter to seven, but it was shortly before ten in New York.

“I've got food at the house, but we can go somewhere for a bite to eat, if you like.”

“Whatever makes you happy.” He couldn't take his eyes off her. All else slipped his mind as he reached for her hand. “I'm so happy to see you, Mel.” It almost seemed unreal that they should be together again.

“It's a little like a dream, isn't it?” She smiled as she asked.

“It is. Best dream I've had in years.” They fell silent again as they drove into town.

He smiled at her, and touched her neck with his hand. “I figured I owed you at least one trip east, after all you've been to L.A. twice.” But still he had needed an excuse, a reason to come. He hadn't just gotten on a plane and come to see her. But it was easier for both of them this way, they could advance toward each other as they had been, by inches. “The President's certainly made a remarkable recovery.”

“It's only been five weeks and he's on his feet and in the office a few hours a day.” Mel shook her head, still amazed at all that, and then she remembered something. “How's Marie, by the way?”

“Fair.” A frown crossed his face, but he shook off the worry. “I left two other men in charge while I'm gone. She's all right, but she had a terrible time with the steroids. Her face is bloated like a full moon now, and there isn't a damn thing we can do. We've juggled everything we could. And she never complains.” He looked unhappily at Mel.” I wish it weren't so difficult for her.” For an instant, Mel tried to focus on Marie in her mind, but all she could really think of now was him. Everything else in their lives seemed unreal to both of them. Children, patients, war, TV shows. All that mattered was Peter and Mel.

The cab drove down the FDR Drive and turned off at Ninety-sixth Street, and Peter watched the city streets drifting past them, curious about where she lived, about what her house would be like, about everything about her. In some ways, he knew so much, of what she felt and thought, and in other ways, he knew so little, mostly about her environment.

They got out at the house, and she smiled to herself remembering the first time she had seen the house in Bel-Air, and been struck by its air of formality. She knew that he would find her house very different and she was right. He was enchanted as he stepped inside, and smelled the flowers she had bought, looked around at the bright colors everywhere, and out into the pretty little garden. He turned to her then with a delighted smile. “This house is so you. I knew it would look like this.” He put his arms around her waist and she smiled.

“Do you like it?” But it was obvious that he did, before he nodded.

“I love it.”

“Come on, I'll show you the rest.” She took his hand and led him upstairs, standing in the doorway of her own room, and den, and then taking him up to the girls' rooms, where she had prepared everything for him. Fresh flowers on the desk and near his bed, a silver thermos filled with ice water, stacks of thick towels next to the tub, and the lights were on invitingly as they came up the stairs. She had put him in Jessica's room, because Jessie was neater, and it was easier to make him comfortable there.

“This is absolutely lovely.” He sat down at the desk and looked around with delight, and then at Mel again. “You have such a loving touch.” She thought the same of him, although it wasn't as apparent in his home, which still bore the chill trace of Anne, but as he reached out to her now there was such a gentle look in his eyes. She walked slowly toward him and he took her hand from where he sat. “I'm so happy to see you again, Mel.” And then he pulled her down on his lap and kissed her again, and she was still breathless when they went back downstairs. They sat at the kitchen table and talked for hours, as they had for weeks now on the phone, and it was almost two o'clock when they finally went back up and said good night outside Mel's room with another endless kiss, and then with a smile and a wave he disappeared up the stairs to her daughter's room. And Mel went into her own room, as she thought of every word he had said to her that night, and before, and she realized again how happy she was with him. He just put himself out there and held out a hand to her. As she brushed her teeth and took off her dress, she couldn't stop thinking of him and she slid into her bed, glad that he had stayed at the house. Apparently, they could handle it with ease, and she liked hearing him walking around upstairs. With the time difference he wasn't tired yet, and the odd thing was that neither was she. All she could do was lie there and think of him, and it seemed hours later when she heard him padding softly down the stairs and past her room. She listened and heard the kitchen door close, and with a grin she got out of bed and followed him down. He was sitting at the kitchen table eating a ham and cheese sandwich and drinking a beer.

“I told you we should eat!” She smiled and got a 7-Up for herself.

“What are you doing up, Mel?”

“I can't sleep. Just excited I guess.” She sat across from him and he smiled.

“Me too. I could sit here and talk to you all night, but then I'U fall asleep tomorrow when I speak.”

“Do you have a prepared speech?”

“More or less.” He explained to her what it was about. And he was using slides of several surgeries, including Marie's. “What about you? What are you doing this week?”

“Absolutely nothing. I don't have to work for two months, so I'll just hang around and play while you're here. Can I come hear you speak?”

“Not tomorrow. But on Friday you can. Would you like to come?”

“Of course.” He looked surprised and she laughed. “Remember me? I'm the lady who did the interview on you at Center City.”

He clapped a hand to his head with a look of surprise. “So that's who you are! I knew we'd met before but I couldn't remember where.”

“Dummy.” She nibbled his ear and he swatted her behind. It was so comfortable sitting there together in the middle of the night, and at last they walked up the stairs again side by side, holding hands, as though they had lived together for years, and when she stopped outside her room, he bent to kiss her again.

“Good night, little friend.”

“Good night, my love.” The words just slipped out, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, and with that he gently enfolded her in his arms again, and she felt so safe there.

“Good night.” He whispered the word, kissed her lips once more, and disappeared upstairs, as she went into her room, turned off the light, and climbed into bed, thinking of him again and what she had just said. And the amazing thing was that she knew it was true. And as he lay in bed upstairs, he knew he loved her too.

CHAPTER 18

When Mel awoke the next day, Peter was already gone, and she got up slowly and went upstairs to make his bed for him, but she found the room perfectly neat and when she went into the kitchen, she found a note he had left for her.

“Meet you here at six. Have a nice day. Love, P.” She smiled at the simple words, but it felt so good to read them. And she felt as though she were floating all day. She went to Bloomingdale's, and bought some things for herself and the house and the girls, and when she came home, there was that amazing feeling that in a few hours she wouldn't be alone.

She sat in the living room, cooling a bottle of wine, waiting for him, and at last he arrived, looking rumpled and tired and excited to see Mel. She rushed to her feet and quickly went to him. “Hi, love, how was your day?”

“Wonderful now.” He walked into the living room with a smile. There were no lights on yet, and the room was filled with daylight and sun. “How was yours?”

“Endless without you.” It was a very honest thing to say and she sat down again and patted the couch next to her. “Come sit down and tell me what you did today.” It was fun having someone to talk to at the end of the day, other than the girls. She told him what she had bought, where she had gone, and then sheepishly, she told him that she had literally counted the hours until she saw him again, and he looked pleased.

“I felt the same way. All I could think of was you. It does sound crazy, doesn't it?” And with that he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and then suddenly their lips met as they kissed until they were both breathless this time, and there seemed to be nothing to say when they stopped. All they wanted was to kiss again.

“Maybe I should start dinner or something?” Mel laughed, as though they needed a distraction from what they both felt.

“How about a cold shower, a deux?”

She smiled again. “I'm not sure the à deux' would help.” She got up and walked around but he pulled her into his arms again.

“I love you, Mel.” And then it was as though the whole world stood still for them both. He had never said that to any woman except Anne, and Mel had told herself for years that she never wanted to hear or say those words again. But this time it meant something to them both, and when he kissed her again she felt it sear her very soul, and she clung to him as though she would drown if she let go. He kissed her face and her lips and her neck and her hands, and then suddenly, without thinking about it, Mel stood up and gently led him upstairs, to her room. And then she turned to him.

“I love you too.” She spoke so softly that had he not been watching her, he would never have heard.

“Don't be afraid, Mel … please …” He walked to her and carefully unzipped her dress as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and when she was undressed he carefully laid her on the bed, and ran his hands slowly over her silky flesh, until at last she arched toward him, aching for his body on hers, and they pressed themselves close to each other, savoring each moment before he finally entered her and she gasped, and then it was almost as though he could hear her purr until at last she screamed and he groaned, and they lay in the silence as the sunlight streamed across the floor. And when Peter looked down at her, there were tears coursing silently from her eyes. “Oh baby, I'm sorry … I …” He was aghast, but she shook her head and kissed him again.

“I love you so much, it scares me sometimes.”

“It scares me too.” But he held her so close that night as they lay side by side, that it was impossible to believe that they would ever know anything except joy.

At nine o'clock they went downstairs, stark naked and hand in hand. She made sandwiches and they came back upstairs and watched TV and laughed. “Just like married folk,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes and pretended to faint and he held her fanny comfortably in his hand. And Mel realized that she had never been as happy with any man. They slept together in her bed that night, and awoke to make love several times, and when he got up to go to his conference again, she got up with him, and made him coffee and scrambled eggs before he left. And when he was gone, she sat naked and alone, aching for the moment when he would return again.

CHAPTER 19

On Friday Mel went to the conference with Peter and listened to him speak, fascinated by what he said, and pleased for him by the reaction from the audience. His comments and slides and explanations of their latest techniques were met with continuous applause, and he was surrounded by his colleagues afterward for almost an hour, as Mel stayed at a discreet distance and watched him with pride.

“Well, what did you think?” he asked her when they were finally alone again that night. They had opted for a quiet dinner at home, since he was leaving the next day, and they wanted some time to themselves.

“I think you're sensational.” She smiled happily at him as they shared a bottle of white wine. She had bought great big Maine lobsters that day, reminiscent of the dinners they would have eaten at Martha's Vineyard. And she was going to serve them cold, with salad and garlic bread and chilled Pouilly-Fumé. “And I also thought their reaction was extremely good.”

He looked satisfied, and smiled.” I thought so too.” And then he leaned toward her and gently kissed her lips. “I' m glad you were there.”

“Me too.” And then a shadow crossed her eyes, thinking of the next day when he'd be gone again. They were leaving for the airport together the next day at eight A.M. His flight was at ten, and he would be back in Los Angeles by one o'clock their time, in time to see Pam and spend some time with her before she left for camp the next day. And when she dropped him off, Mel was heading back to Martha's Vineyard and her girls.

“What's wrong, love?” He took her hand in his. “You looked so sad just then.” And he wondered for the hundredth time since they'd first made love if she regretted getting involved with him. He would be leaving again after all, and neither of them knew when they would meet again. It seemed to be an uncertainty they constantly had to bear.

“I was just thinking of tomorrow when you leave.”

“So was I.” He put his wineglass down and then set hers down too and took her other hand in his. “It's a crazy life we lead, you and I.” She nodded and they smiled. “But we'll figure something else out.” And then he decided to pursue an idea he'd had before. “What about coming to Aspen with your girls? We go in about three weeks, and Valerie and Jessica would love it, Mel. It's a wonderful place for kids … for us … for anyone, in fact.” His eyes lit up at the thought. “And it would give us a chance to be together again.”

“But not like this.” She sighed and met his eyes with a rueful smile. “Our children would probably all go nuts if they realized what was going on.” At least his daughter would, but she knew that it would startle her daughters as well. There had been no time to prepare them at all. Peter was a stranger to them, a name they'd almost never heard, except in the context of her work. And then suddenly, “Zap! Guess what, girls, we're going to Aspen with him and his kids!” Melanie knew they'd have a fit.

“They'll adjust. And they don't have to know all the details.” He sounded so assured that Mel sat back and looked at him with a long, lazy, happy smile. For a man who had known no woman but his wife for the past twenty years, and no one at all since she had died, he seemed remarkably confident about things now, and Mel wasn't sure if it was indicative of what he felt for her, or simply a result of his constant poise.

“You're awfully relaxed about all this, beloved sir.”

He smiled at what she said. “I've never felt like this before, Mel. But it all feels so right.” At least it did there, in New York, in her pretty little sun-filled house, alone with her. Perhaps it would be different when they were surrounded by kids, but he didn't think it would. “I think our children will be able to handle it. Don't you?”

“I wish I were as sure. What about Pam?”

“She liked you when she met you in L.A. And in Aspen, everyone has something to do, hiking, walking, swimming, tennis, fishing, the music festivals at night. The kids always seem to meet old friends. In a way, they'd be less aware of us there because they have their own things to do.” But it sounded too easy to Mel, and she wondered how realistic he was. “Besides”—he moved closer to her and held her tight—“I don't think I can survive for more than a few weeks without you.”

“It seems like forever, doesn't it?” Her voice was soft and sad as she leaned her head against his chest and felt his warmth envelop her. “But I don't know if we should come to Aspen, Peter. That's a lot to push at them all at once.”

“What? That we're friends?” He sounded both surprised and annoyed. “Don't read something into it that they won't see.”

“They're not blind, Peter. They're all practically adults by now, except for Matt. They won't be fooled.”

“Who's fooling them?” He pulled away from her for a moment to look into her eyes. “I love you, Mel.” It was all he could think of each time he saw her face, every time she entered a room … whenever he thought of her.

“Do you want them to know that?”

He smiled. “Eventually.”

“And then what? We go our separate ways, living our separate lives three thousand miles apart, and they know we've had an affair? Think of how they'll feel about it.” She thought for a moment, her mind filled with a picture of Pam's haunted face. “Especially Pam.”

She sounded sincere and he sighed. “You think too much.”

“I'm serious.”

“Well, don't be. Just come to Aspen and let's have some fun, without worrying about the kids. They'll be fine. Trust me.”

Mel was bemused by his innocence. Sometimes she was surprised at how naive he was about his kids. But she had to admit that in spite of her reservations about the trip, she was anxious to see him again, and Aspen would provide a golden opportunity, if she could convince the twins to leave Martha's Vineyard for a week or two. She frowned as she considered what she would tell them when she went back.

“Don't worry so much, Mel. Just come.”

She smiled at him and they kissed and afterward she sat pensively sipping her wine. “I just don't know what to tell the girls about leaving Martha's Vineyard.”

“Tell them the mountains are better for their health.” She laughed and looked at him with her head tilted to one side. “Don't you like the beach?”

“Sure. But I love the mountains. All that good air, splendid views, good hikes.” She had never thought of him as being outdoorsy, but after the intensity of his work, it was easy to understand that he needed an outlet, and one on a grand scale. The mountains would provide that for him, but she had loved the beach since she was a child, and Martha's Vineyard was exactly what she wanted for her vacations with the girls.

“I could remind them about Mark”—she grinned—“that would convince Val anyway, but that headache we don't need.” He laughed at that.

“Maybe I should tell him about the twins before we go.” He didn't dare to ask her again that night if she was convinced, but the next morning, as they sat over coffee, he had to know. They were leaving the house in an hour for the airport, and his bags were already packed, and her little bag was too. She didn't plan to come back to the house in the city again until September. “Well, Mel, are you coming?”

“I wish I were.”

He set down his cup and leaned over to kiss her. “Will you come to Aspen at the end of the month, Mel?”

“I'll try. I have to think it out.” She had turned it over in her mind several times, and was still undecided. But if they didn't go, she might not see him again for months, and she didn't want that to happen either.

She set down her own cup with a sigh, and looked him in the eye. “I just don't know if it's a good idea for us to involve the children in what we feel.”

“Why not?” He looked upset.

“Because it may be too much for them to handle.”

“I think you're underestimating our children.”

“How are you going to explain our coming out there?”

“Does it have to be explained?”

“Oh, for God's sake, what do you think? Of course it does. How could you not explain it to them?”

“All right, all right. So we'll explain it. We'll tell them we're old friends.”

“Which they know damn well isn't true.” She seemed to be getting upset. He looked at his watch. It was seven thirty, and in half an hour they had to leave for the airport. There wasn't much time to convince her. And if she didn't come, God only knew when he'd see her again.

“I don't give a damn what you tell them, Mel, your children or mine. But I want you to come to Aspen.” He was beginning to sound bullheaded about it and it annoyed her.

“I have to think it over.”

“No, you don't.” He towered over her, looking as immovable as a marble column. “You've been making your own decisions for so damn long, that you don't know how to let yourself go and trust someone else.”

“That has nothing to do with this.” Their voices were rising. “You're being naive about how the children will react.”

“So what, for chrissake. Don't we have a right to a life too? Don't I have a right to love you?”

“Yes, but we don't have the right to screw up our kids for something that can't go anywhere, Peter.”

“And what makes you think that?” He was shouting now. “Do you have other plans?”

“I happen to live in New York, and you live in L.A., or don't you remember?”

” I remember perfectly, which was why I wanted to meet you halfway three weeks from now, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh for chrissake … all right!” She shouted the words. “All right! I'll come to Aspen.”

“Good!” He glanced at his watch then. It was five minutes after eight, and he suddenly reached out and pulled Mel toward him. Time was moving too fast. They were supposed to have left five minutes before, and he couldn't leave her now. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, smiling at his own thoughts.” I think we just had our first fight. You're a damn stubborn woman, Mel.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” She looked up at him and they kissed.” I just want to do the right thing, and I don't want to upset our kids.”

He nodded.” I know. But we have to think of ourselves now.”

“I haven't done that in a long time. Except to be sure I didn't get hurt.”

“I won't hurt you, Mel.” His voice was sad, it depressed him to think that she would defend herself against him too.” I hope to hell I never do that.”

“You can't help it. When people care about each other, they get hurt. Unless you stay at a safe distance all the time.”

“That's not living.”

“No, it's not. But it's safe.”

“Screw safe.” He looked down at her seriously.” I love you.”

“I love you too.” She still trembled when she said the words.” I wish we didn't have to leave yet.” They were going to have to run like hell to catch his plane, and he looked at his watch and then at her.

“I have a suggestion.”

“What's that?”

“I'll call home and get someone to cover for me for another day. If they survived this long without me, they can hang on for another day. What do you think?”

She smiled like a little girl and let her whole body sag against him. “I think that it sounds wonderful.” And then she thought of something. “What about Pam? Don't you want to see her before she goes to camp?”

“Yes, but maybe for the first time in almost two years, I'll do what I want to do for a change. I'll see her in three weeks when she comes home. She'll survive without me.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked very serious as he held her. “What about you? Can you go back to the Vineyard tomorrow?”

“Are you serious, Peter?” She turned to face him, amazed at his decision. But she could see instantly that he was serious about staying.

“Yes. I don't want to leave you. Let's spend the weekend together.” A smile dawned slowly in her eyes and she hugged him to her.

“You are the most remarkable man.”

“In love with the most extraordinary woman. I'd say we make quite an impressive couple, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, I would.” Her voice was soft as they stood together in her kitchen. And then she looked up at him with a small smile. “As long as you're not leaving right away, what do you say we go upstairs for a while, Dr. Hallam?”

“Excellent idea, Miss Adams.” She went upstairs and he followed her a moment later. He stayed in the kitchen, just long enough to call the doctor who was covering for him in L.A. and ask if he would mind staying on for two more days. His colleague teased him about it, but didn't seem to mind at all, and two minutes later Peter bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time with his long legs and he burst into Melanie's bedroom with a boyish grin. “I can stay!”

She didn't say a word in answer. She only walked toward him and took his clothes off one by one, and they fell onto her bed with an abandon that came from having taken one more step closer to each other.

CHAPTER 20

“But how come you're not coming home?” Pam's voice approached a whine when Peter called her before lunch. “You don't have any patients in New York.” She sounded both angry and hurt and her voice was filled with accusation.

“I got delayed at the conference here, Pam. I'll be home tomorrow night.”

“But I'm leaving for camp tomorrow morning.”

“I know. But Mrs. Hahn can take you to the bus. It's not like it's the first time you've gone.” It was odd how one had to defend oneself to one's children, Mel thought as she listened. “This is your fourth year. You should be an old pro by now, Pam. And you'll be home in three weeks.”

“Yeah.” She sounded distant and gloomy and guilt pulled at his heartstrings, more so now that the decision was made and he had made love to Mel for the past two hours. Now it seemed less urgent that he stay, and Pam was bringing his responsibilities at home back into focus again. “Okay.” She was shutting him out and he felt bad about it.

“Sweetheart, it couldn't be helped.” But it could have, which made him feel worse. Had he been wrong to stay? But dammit, didn't he have a right to his own life, and some time with Mel?

“It's okay, Daddy.” But he could already hear how despondent and depressed she sounded, and he knew from experience how unwise it was to upset her.

“Look, I' come up to see you next weekend.” The camp was near Santa Barbara, and he could drive up easily from L.A., and then he remembered that he would be on call all weekend. “Damn, I can't. The next weekend then.”

“Never mind. Have a nice time.” She seemed suddenly anxious to get off, and in New York, Mel watched Peter's face, easily reading the emotions there. When he hung up, she came and sat beside him.

“You can still catch a plane this afternoon, you know.” But he shook his head with a dogged air. “I don't think I should, Mel. What I said before is true. We have a right to some time together.”

“But she needs you too, and you feel torn.” It didn't take a psychic to see how he felt, and he nodded.

“Somehow she always makes me feel guilty. She's been doing it ever since Anne died. It's almost as if she holds me responsible for her death, and for the rest of time I'll have to atone for my sins and I'll never quite make it.”

“That's a heavy burden to bear. If you're willing to accept it.”

“What choice do I have?” He looked unhappy. “She's had every emotional problem in the books since her mother died, from anorexia to skin problems and nightmares.”

“But traumas happen to everyone sooner or later. She's going to have to accept what happened, Peter. She can't make you pay for it forever.” But it looked like she was going to try. At least that was how it looked to Mel, but she didn't say anything further to Peter. He was determined to stay, and to let her make the adjustment. And a little while later Mel called the twins and Raquel at the house in Chilmark.