The House on Hope Street

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I remember seeing it on the news,” and then he turned off the light in the waiting room, and left her. It was hard not to admire her. She was still walking around, still reasonable, still coherent, still taking care of her kids and working. He went back to check on Peter then, and smiled as he looked at him. He had been a gift that night to his mother, and she deserved it. Even more than Bill Webster could imagine. But what he knew now was enough. The boy was doing fine. And he smiled to himself as he walked back to his desk to sign some orders. He liked days like this one, days when you won instead of lost. It was one of those days that made him glad he did what he did for a living. For once, the fates had played fair with his patient. He sat back in his chair then, and closed his eyes for a minute. And then he opened them again, and signed the orders they needed from him. He had a long night ahead of him, but he didn't mind. Things had worked out just fine this time, and he was glad.

Chapter 7

Liz slept fitfully for a few hours in the waiting room where Bill Webster had left her, and was back at Peter's bedside before he woke up. And when Peter did wake up he had a tremendous headache, and complained about the brace and the pain at the back of his neck.

Webster came and checked on him at six o'clock in the morning, as he had every hour all through the night. But everything looked fine to him. The neurosurgeon came back later that morning, and seemed pleased with what he saw. He told Liz that her son was a very lucky boy.

She helped the nurses bathe him, and they started him on clear fluids, and in the early afternoon, she went home for a while. The others were still anxious about him, and the girls had a million questions, but as soon as she got home, Liz realized that Jamie was nowhere to be found. She asked Carole about it, who said that she hadn't seen him since breakfast, and when Liz searched the house, she found him sitting quietly in his room.

“Hi, sweetheart, what are you doing up here all by yourself?” She was worried about him, and even more so when he turned to look at her and she could see the devastation on his face. Just seeing him that way made her heart sink like a rock. She went to sit beside him on the floor and took his hand in her own. “Peter said to send you his love. He's going to try and come home soon.” But Jamie just shook his head, as two tears rolled slowly down his cheeks into his lap.

“No, he's not. He's gone, like Daddy. I had a dream about him last night.”

“Look at me,” she said, turning his face gently toward her, and looking straight into his eyes. “I'm not lying to you, Jamie. Peter is going to be fine. He hurt his neck and he has a brace on it, and a big, big headache. But I promise you, he's coming back.” There was a long silence between them, as the child searched her eyes.

“Can I see him?” He still looked pretty scary, with tubes everywhere, and monitors flashing and beeping, but she couldn't help wondering if it would be better for Jamie to see him and know for certain that his brother was alive.

“If you really want to. There are a lot of machines around him, they make funny noises, and he has tubes in his arms.”

“What kind of tubes?” Jamie looked curious but less frightened.

“Kind of like straws.” That was close enough.

“Will they let me see him?” There were no children allowed in the ICU, but she decided to ask Bill Webster, and explain the situation to him. He told her he'd be on duty that evening, and she had promised Peter she'd be back to spend the night.

“I'll ask,” she promised, and then gently pulled the child into her arms. “I love you, Jamie. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Promise he's not going away like Daddy?”

“I promise,” she said, fighting back tears. This was still so hard for all of them, not just for her.

“Pinkie swear?” he asked, holding his little finger up, and she linked it with her own.

“Pinkie swear. I'll ask about your visiting when I see the doctor tonight. Why don't we call Peter this afternoon so you can talk to him?” Jamie's eyes lit up at that.

“Can I?”

“Sure,” she promised, and realized that it would be a relief to his sisters too. Jamie came downstairs with her after that, and she rounded up the girls, dialed the hospital, and asked for the Trauma ICU.

They brought a phone to Peter, and he sounded hoarse and weak, but relatively normal in spite of it, he promised to come home as soon as he could, and told his sisters to behave while he was gone. And then he warned Jamie to be careful in the pool, and told him that what he had done was real dumb, and never to do anything like that.

“I miss you guys,” he said, sounding like a child again, and Liz could hear tears in his voice, as she listened on the other phone. “I'll come home as soon as I can.”

“Mom said she's going to ask if I can come and visit you,” Jamie said proudly, and Peter sounded pleased. Liz spoke up then and told Peter she'd be back in a few hours. If he was feeling all right, she wanted to have dinner with the kids.

“That's fine, Mom. Can you bring me something to eat?”

“Like what?” He was still on fluids, and they were talking about starting him on Jell-O that afternoon. He wasn't too excited about that.

“A cheeseburger.” His mother laughed at the request.

“You must be feeling a lot better.” It was a far cry from the day before when she was begging him to open his eyes and talk to her, as he lay there in another world. “I think you'd better wait a couple of days for that, sweetheart.”

“I figured you'd say that.” He sounded disappointed.

“I'll see you later.”

She went back to the other children then, and Jamie sat on her lap for a while, but he looked less upset than he had been. Talking to Peter had helped. And after he went to play outside, she called her office. According to Jean, there was nothing exciting happening. She had managed to postpone a court appearance, and reschedule some appointments for the following week. But it pointed out to Liz again that everything rested on her shoulders now. There was no one to stand in for her, juggle cases with her, it all depended on her. The children, her work, the catastrophe that had nearly befallen Peter, and the destruction it would have wrought if he had not survived. It was an awesome burden. And she was thinking about it as she drove back to the hospital to see Peter that night.

Bill Webster was back on duty by then, and he smiled when he saw her, but he looked harassed, and only waved as she walked by. It was another hour before he drifted in to the ICU to see Peter, and chat with her.

“How's our star patient doing?”

“He asked for a cheeseburger, I think that's a good sign, don't you?” she asked, as she brushed a lock of red hair out of her eyes. She had been gently rubbing Peter's shoulders for him, and he was still complaining about his massive headache, but they had put him on pain medication, which seemed to help somewhat.

“I think a cheeseburger is an excellent sign. How about tomorrow, Peter?”

“Really?” Peter looked thrilled.

“I think so. We're going to start you on therapy for that neck in a few days, and you might as well get your strength up, if your stomach doesn't object too much.” It was good news to Peter, who had hated the Jell-O, and refused to eat it, or the thin clear soup.

Bill Webster checked a few things on Peter's chart, looked carefully at the monitors, and made some notes before he left the ICU again, and Liz followed him out. She wanted to ask him about bringing Jamie to visit the following afternoon.

“I have a favor to ask,” she began cautiously, as he listened. He was wearing blue scrubs this time, and he looked as though he hadn't combed his hair in days. But he'd been dealing with a head-on collision all afternoon, three children and five adults had been injured. Two of the children had died that evening. It had been depressing and ugly, and it was a relief, even to him, to see Peter make such good progress. “I know they don't let children visit the ICU,” she began, and he nodded, looking only faintly impatient. In his opinion, there were good reasons for not having children in the ICU, they were little germ factories, and his patients were not up to fighting off infections. But Liz was looking at him with a serious expression. “We've all been through a lot in the past year, since their father died,” she still hated saying the word, but knew she had to, “and my youngest son is very upset about Peter.”

“How old is he?”

“Ten,” she hesitated, looking at him, wondering how much she needed to tell him, and then she decided to confide in him. After all, he had saved Peter's life. “He's learning-delayed. He was premature, and suffered a severe oxygen loss, and when they gave him oxygen at the delivery, it caused some damage. This is very hard for him, he saw what happened yesterday, and he thinks Peter may not come back, like his father. It would help a lot if he could see him sometime soon.”

There was a long pause as Bill Webster looked at her, and then nodded. She'd been through a lot, he was sure, and so had her kids.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked gently. “You have a lot on your plate, don't you?” The way he said it to her made her eyes fill with tears, and she turned away for a minute to compose herself before she answered. It was just as it had been right after Jack died, when people were kind to her, it broke down her defenses and made her cry.

“Just let him see Peter,” she said softly.

“Whenever you like. What about the others? Are they okay about it?” The family had clearly taken a heavy hit when their father was killed, and he wanted to do something now to ease their burdens. It made him realize what their brother represented to them, and to their mother. It gave him some insight into what he'd seen between them the day before.

“I think the girls understand, but it would reassure them to see him. I just didn't want to push too far. But it's really important for Jamie.”

“Bring him in first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling moved by what he'd said to her, and not sure how to thank him.

She went back to Peter then, and stayed with him until he fell asleep, and then she went back to sleep herself on the couch in the waiting room. It was dark in the room, but she was still awake when Bill opened the door and looked in at her. He couldn't see if she was sleeping, and he was afraid to disturb her. He just stood watching her for a long moment until he spoke.

“Liz?” It was the first time he had used her first name, and she sat up, worried about Peter again.

“Is something wrong?” She set her feet down on the carpet, and tossed off the blanket she'd been given by the nurses.

“No, everything's fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if you were all right. … I wondered if you wanted a cup of tea or something.” It was the middle of the night and coffee didn't seem like an appropriate suggestion. He was working, but she was supposed to be asleep. “Did I wake you?” he asked in the dark, feeling guilty for disturbing her. But he'd been thinking about her and wanted to talk.

“No, I was awake. My sleep habits aren't what they used to be, before …” The words drifted off, but they both understood. “Maybe some tea would help, or soup or something.” There was a machine down the hall, near his office. She'd bought both soup and tea there before, but as she put her shoes on and followed him down the hall, he offered her tea from a pot in his office.

She sat down in a chair, feeling rumpled and uncombed, but he didn't look like he'd care. He looked worse than she did, after working all night.

“What kind of law do you specialize in?” he asked, as he sipped a mug of coffee.

“Family law … divorce. …”

He nodded knowingly. “I've had a little experience with that myself, but not in a long time.” He didn't look as though the memory was pleasant, but he managed a small, wintry smile.

“Are you divorced?” she asked, and he nodded. “Kids?”

“Nope. No time. I was a resident when we got married, and she was an intern. Some people manage to have kids then, but it always seemed foolish to me. I didn't want to have kids until I could spend some time with them, and enjoy them. You know,” he smiled, “like maybe when I'm eighty.” He had a nice smile, and a kinder look in his eyes than she had at first suspected. She had disliked him intensely when she first met him. He seemed so brusque, so rude, so uncaring, but she realized now that he had more important things on his mind, like saving lives, and sometimes, in his line of work, it was a matter of split seconds, and getting information from patients’ families as fast as you could. The day before he had seemed so harsh and abrupt to her, and now he seemed both pleasant and kind. “I've been divorced for ten years,” he told her then, volunteering more information than she'd asked for, but she was that kind of person. Her clients always told her more than she needed to know too, but sometimes that was helpful. And she found she wanted to know more about him.

“With no desire to remarry?” she asked with interest.

“Very little. And no time. I think the first time cured me. Our divorce was pretty bitter. She had an affair with my chief resident, which didn't actually sit well with me. Everybody in the hospital knew it before I did, and felt sorry for me. They got married eventually and have three kids. She gave up medicine during her residency, it was just a hobby for her. We were very different.” To say the least.

“My husband and I practiced law together for eighteen years, we had a good time together. It's nice being in the same line of work,” Liz said quietly, trying not to think of him too much. She was tired, and emotional, and she knew she would cry easily if Bill asked the right questions about Jack. “To be honest, he liked family law more than I did. I always liked the philanthropic stuff, and hopeless causes, fighting for the rights of the underdog. But he had a good sense of where the money was, and he was right, we had five kids to think of.”

“And now? You're still doing divorce work?” She nodded. “Why? You could do anything you want.”

“Not exactly,” she smiled. “I still have the same five kids, their feet are bigger, and their shoes are more expensive than ever. So is their education. One of these days I'll have four in college. Jack was right. Family law is very lucrative, even if it gets me down sometimes. In divorce work, you see people at their worst. The nicest people turn into monsters when they're mad at their spouses. But I feel I owe it to my husband to keep our practice going. He worked hard building it, I can't just walk away now.” From that, or their kids, or their house, or their responsibilities, it was all hers now, and Bill got that.

“Do you ever think about doing a different kind of law?” he asked, intrigued by her. She was smart, and nice, and very pretty. There was a softness to her which appealed to him, and a love for her son that touched his heart.

“Sometimes I think about doing something else,” she answered him, “but not very often. Do you?” She turned the question on him, and he poured some more coffee into his mug and shook his head.

“Never. I love this. It's about as high pressure as it gets, you have to make split-second decisions, and they have to be the right ones. The stakes are high, and there's no room for mistakes. It forces me to be the best I can be all the time. I like that.”

“It sounds like climbing Everest every day, and it must be heartbreaking sometimes.” She was thinking of Peter the day before and how easily they might have lost him. And the two children he had lost that night.

“It's heartbreaking too often,” Bill answered. “I hate losing.”

“So did Jack,” she smiled. “I'm not too crazy about it myself, but for him it was a personal affront if he lost a single motion. He had to win every time, which is probably what cost him his life. He played hardball with a man who went berserk over it. I was afraid of it. … I warned him … but he didn't believe me. I guess no one could really have predicted what happened. It was an insane thing for our client's husband to have done. But he was insane. He killed his wife, and then my husband, and then shot himself in our office.” Just saying it reminded her of the grisly scene again and she closed her eyes for a second, as Bill watched her.

“It must have been a nightmare for you and the kids,” he said, sorry for her.

“It still is sometimes. It's going to take us a long time to get over it, but we're doing better. We were married for nineteen years, you don't forget all that in a few months, we were very happy for a long time.”

“You were lucky,” he said quietly. He had never felt that way about anyone, not even the woman he'd married, or the two he lived with after her. And in the years since, he had given up his search for the perfect woman. Women drifted in and out of his life from time to time, and he never got too attached to them anymore. It seemed safer that way, and simpler. He didn't need or want more than that.

“We were very lucky,” Liz echoed, and then stood up finally and thanked him for the tea. “I guess I'd better try to get some sleep before Peter wakes up. I was going to try and go to the office in the morning, and come back in the afternoon with Jamie.”

“I'll be here.” Bill smiled at her, and reminded her that he wanted to meet Jamie when he came in.

She turned in the doorway then, and looked at him, with a look of sorrow in her eyes. As she had said to him, for her, the nightmare of losing Jack was not yet over. “Thanks for letting me talk. It helps sometimes.”

“Anytime, Liz.” But he hadn't done it entirely for her. He liked talking to her, liked the boy. He was just sorry they'd had so much trouble, so much pain.

She went back to the couch in the waiting room then, and lay awake for a long time. She was thinking about him and the lonely, demanding life he led. It didn't seem like much of a life to her, but these days hers wasn't much of a life either, except for her work and her kids. She fell asleep finally, dreaming about Jack, and he seemed to be saying something to her. He was pointing at something and trying to warn her, and when she turned, she saw Peter diving neatly off a high diving board, into concrete. She awoke with a feeling of panic, mixed in with the old familiar sadness again. There was always that terrible moment when she woke up when she remembered that something horrible had happened. And then in an instant, she would remember that Jack had died. She still hated waking up in the morning. It was what made it so hard to go to sleep at night, knowing she'd have to wake up and face the sharp blow of reality all over again.

She had combed her hair and washed her face and brushed her teeth, but she still felt rumpled and messy. Peter was awake when she went back to the ICU in the morning. And he was complaining about the fact that he was hungry and no one would feed him. Eventually, they gave him a bowl of oatmeal, and he made a terrible face as his mother fed it to him.

“Yerghkkkk!” he said, looking five instead of seventeen. “That's disgusting.”

“Be a good boy, and eat it. It's good for you,” she scolded him, but he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips, and when she set the spoon down, she was laughing. “What did you have in mind instead?”

“I want waffles.” He was referring to hers, and she had purposely never made them again, since the morning Jack died. She just couldn't. And the children understood. Although they were a family favorite, none of the children had ever asked her to make them. But this time, Peter had forgotten. “And bacon,” he added. “I hate oatmeal.”

“I know you do. Maybe they'll start feeding you real food today. I'll talk to Dr. Webster.”

“I think he likes you.” Peter smiled at his mother.

“I like him too. He saved your life. That's a good way to impress me.”

“I mean, he likes you. I saw him watching you yesterday.”

“I think you're hallucinating, but you're cute anyway, even if you won't eat your breakfast.”

“What if he asks you out, would you go?” Peter asked the question with a grin.

“Don't be ridiculous. He's your doctor, not some high school Romeo. I think the bump on your head jiggled your brain.” She was amused, but not particularly interested in what he was saying. Bill Webster was a nice man, and they'd had a nice talk the night before, but it meant nothing to either of them.

“Would you, Mom?” Peter was persistent, and she only laughed at him, refusing to address the question seriously. There was no need to. What he was saying was absurd.

“No, I wouldn't. I'm not interested in going out with anyone. And he's not interested in going out with me. So you can stop matchmaking, and concentrate on getting better.”

She helped the nurses bathe him then, and later that morning, she went to her office. Jean had put out as many fires as she could, and fortunately things weren't as busy as they could be. It was the middle of August, and most people were on vacation till after Labor Day.

She went home that afternoon to see the kids, and have dinner with them. She spoke to Peter on the phone several times that afternoon, and he was in good spirits. A number of his friends had come by to see him, and they'd brought him something to eat. He and Jessica had broken up in June, so there was no current girlfriend in his life to fuss over him, but he was just happy to see his friends. And Liz finally had a few minutes to call Victoria and her mother too. She'd told them both about the accident after it happened, and it was nice to be able to reassure both of them. As usual, her mother made ominous predictions about possible unexpected lethal aftereffects, and Victoria asked her what she could do to help. But there was nothing anyone could do yet. It was just nice for Liz to hear her voice and unwind a little bit. And after the brief respite, she went back to the work on her desk.

After dinner at home that night, Liz took a shower and changed, and told Jamie to put his shoes on. She was taking him to see his brother. She had asked the girls to wait one more day, because she knew that the onslaught of their talk and laughter and questions and well-intentioned fussing over Peter would exhaust him. Butjamie's visit was as much for Jamie as for Peter. She knew he still needed to see that Peter was okay.

Jamie was quiet on the way to the hospital, and she thought he looked a little anxious as he stared out the window. And then finally he turned to her as they pulled into the hospital parking lot and asked her a pointed question.

“Will it scare me, Mommy?” It was honest, and what he asked her touched her, and she was honest with him.

“Maybe a little. Hospitals are a little scary. It's a lot of people and machines and funny sounds.

But Peter doesn't look scary.” His face was a little bruised, but not very. “He has a funny-looking collar on, and he's in a big bed that goes up and down if you push a button.”

“Will he ever come home again?”

“Yes, baby, very soon. Before school starts.”

“Is that soon?” Jamie wasn't good about time, and he knew it.

“In a couple of weeks,” she explained to him. “Maybe even sooner. There's a nice doctor there who wants to meet you. His name is Bill.”

“Will he give me a shot?” Jamie looked panicked. For him, this was not only an adventure, it was an ordeal, but he was willing to walk through fire to see Peter, or do whatever he had to do.

“No, he won't give you a shot,” his mother said gently.

“Good. I hate shots. Did he give Peter a shot?” He was worried about his brother.

“A bunch of them, but Peter's a big boy and doesn't mind.” The only thing he hated was Jell-O and oatmeal. His friends had brought him a pizza that afternoon, and he had sounded happy when he told her. “Shall we go in now?” Jamie nodded and slipped a hand into hers as they walked into the main lobby. He held her hand tightly in his own, and she could feel that his palm was damp, as they went up in the elevator to the Trauma ICU, and he flinched visibly as they got out of the elevator and saw someone on a gurney.

“Is he dead?” Jamie asked in a horrified whisper, standing close to her. The man's eyes were closed and there was a nurse standing next to him.

“He's just sleeping, Jamie, it's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She shepherded him quickly down the hall to the ICU, and they could see Peter the minute they walked in. He was sitting up in bed, and he gave a whoop of glee when he saw Jamie. And the minute Jamie saw him, he smiled from ear to ear.

“Hi, big guy, come over here and kiss me!” he shouted, and Jamie ran to him and then came to a dead stop when he saw all the monitors and machines. He was afraid to get too near. “Come on,” Peter encouraged him, “just one more big step, and I've got you.” Jamie took the last step as though he were fording a stream filled with snakes, but as soon as he could, Peter grabbed him firmly, and pulled him closer. He was smiling at him, and leaned over to give him a hug and a kiss, and as Liz approached she saw that Jamie was beaming. “Boy, I missed you!”

“I missed you too. I thought you were dead,” Jamie said simply, “but Mom said you weren't. I didn't believe her at first, that's why she brought me here to see you.”

“You bet I'm not dead. But it was a dumb thing to do, jumping into the pool like that. You'd better not do anything as stupid as I did, or you'll be in big trouble with me, kiddo. How's everything at home?”

“Boring. The girls keep telling everyone what happened to you. They all cried when you went away in the ambulance. Me too,” he said, looking up at his big brother in relief. This was just what he needed. “Can I make your bed go up and down?” he asked with interest, as he looked around. There were other people in the ICU, but their curtains were drawn, and he couldn't see them.

“Sure.” Peter showed him the buttons and how to do it, and he winced as Jamie first flung him up then down, and then moved him to a sitting position.

“Does that hurt?” Jamie was fascinated with making the bed move.

“A little,” Peter admitted.

“Do you want to lie down again?”

“Okay, I'll tell you how far, and when to stop.” Peter was always a good sport about making Jamie happy. And as Jamie was concentrating on flattening the bed out again, Bill Webster walked in, and looked at the scene with interest.

He glanced at Liz, and then back at her two sons. Peter had just told him to let go of the button, and Jamie was satisfied that he had done a good job of it. He wanted to do it again, but this time Peter asked him not to. He was still in more pain than he wanted to admit.

“Hi, Doc,” Peter said as he looked up, and Jamie glanced at Bill with a look of suspicion.

“Are you going to bed?” Jamie asked politely, staring at the green scrubs he was wearing.

“No. I get to wear these to work, isn't that silly? That way, I can fall asleep anytime I want.” He was teasing, but Jamie looked up at him with big, serious brown eyes. Despite Jamie's dark brown hair, and Peter's red, there was a striking resemblance between them. “Introduce me to your brother,” he said to Peter, who duly introduced Jamie to the doctor.

“I don't want a shot,” Jamie explained, so there would be no misunderstanding between them from the first.

“Neither do I,” he said, keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to upset the boy. He knew of his limitations from his mother. “I'll promise not to give you one, if you don't give me one either.” Jamie laughed as Bill said it.

“I promise,” Jamie said solemnly. And then for no particular reason, he volunteered a piece of information about himself, as though he thought some kind of social exchange was expected of him. “I won three medals at the Special Olympics. Mom coached me.”

“What did you compete in?” Bill asked with a look of profound interest.

“Running long jump, hundred yard dash, and sack race.” He reeled them off with pride, and Liz smiled as she watched him.

“Your mom must be a pretty good coach if you won all that.”

“She is. I only won fourth place with my dad. He shouted a lot more than Mom did. But Mom made me work harder and stay out later while we trained.”

“Persistence wins the prize,” Bill said more to Liz than to Jamie and she smiled at him, slightly embarrassed to have Jamie extolling her virtues. “That must have been pretty exciting.”

“It was,” Jamie said, smiling, and then turned back to his brother and asked if he could work the bed again. And although Peter didn't look too happy about it, he let Jamie do it, as Bill and Liz stepped outside for a moment to talk.

“How's he doing?” Liz asked. Peter still looked very tired to her, and she could see that his head and neck were hurting.

“He's doing fine,” Bill reassured her, “he's my star patient. Your younger son is a great kid, you must be proud of him,” he said, glancing at Jamie through the windows of the ICU.

“I am.” And then she smiled at Bill. “Thank you for letting me bring him. He was panicked about Peter. This really reassured him. He hasn't looked this happy in two days.”

“He can come back anytime, as long as he doesn't give me a shot.” Bill smiled at her and she laughed as they wandered back into the ICU, and Liz rescued Peter from Jamie, who was wreaking havoc with the bed.

“I think it's time to go home, gentlemen. Peter needs to get some rest, and so do you.” She looked at Jamie solemnly. “The doctor says you can come back soon.”

“Next time, bring a pizza,” Peter added, and kissed Jamie good-bye a few minutes later. Jamie waved from the door of the ICU, and then walked back to the elevator with his mother. They were still standing there when Bill saw them, and came over to thank Jamie for coming.

“I liked it. It was cool. I thought it would scare me,” Jamie said honestly, which was part of his charm. He always said what was on his mind. “The ambulance made a lot of noise when it took Peter away,” Jamie informed him, and Bill nodded.

“Ambulances do that. But it's usually pretty quiet here. Come back and visit again.” He smiled at him, and Jamie nodded.

“My sisters are coming tomorrow. They talk a lot, they might make Peter tired.” Bill laughed out loud at that, and didn't dare add that sometimes women did that. He didn't know Liz well enough to say it, and wasn't sure yet of her sense of humor, but he was amused by the comment Jamie had made.

“I'll make sure they don't wear him out. Thanks for telling me.” The elevator arrived then, and Jamie waved as the doors closed. Bill had already asked her if she'd be back that night, but she had decided to spend the night at home with her children, and come back in the morning to see Peter again. And she had thanked Bill again for making Jamie's visit so easy and so successful. He was very pleased with it as they drove back to Tiburon and he said so.

“I like Peter's bed, and the doctor. He's nice. And he hates shots too,” he reminded his mother. “I think Peter likes him.”

“We all do,” Liz agreed. “He saved your brother's life.”

“Then I like him too.” He told his sisters all about his visit to Peter and about the bed that went up and down, and the doctor who hated shots and had saved Peter's life. It had been a big adventure for him. He slept in his mother's bed that night, but he slept peacefully, and didn't have nightmares. Unlike his mother, who dreamed endlessly about Jack, and Peter's accident, and Bill, and Jamie and the girls. It was a night filled with anxieties and accidents and people. And she felt as though she'd ridden in a rodeo all night when she awoke the next morning.

“Are you tired, Mommy?” Jamie asked when he woke her up at six.

“Very,” she said with a groan. The past few days had taken a toll on her. The terror of nearly losing her son made her feel as though she had been beaten, and she had been. It was like a small replay of what she had gone through when she lost Jack, but at least this time, it had a happy ending.

She made breakfast for the kids, left for work, appeared in court, and went back to the hospital to meet Carole and the girls. Jamie stayed with a neighbor because Liz didn't want him to overdo it, and it was the girls’ turn. They laughed and talked and cried, and checked out everything, gave him the news, told him about their romances and friends, and told him how happy they were that he was okay. But Jamie had been right, Liz realized. Peter was exhausted when they left an hour later, and needed a shot of pain medication. And when he was finally asleep, Bill and Liz stood in the waiting room to talk.

“Jamie was right,” she said, looking worried, “the girls wiped him out.”

“Girls have a way of doing that,” he smiled, “but I think it was good for him, a little taste of real life to balance the ICU. He needs that.” They talked about when he could go home then, and Bill thought they could count on his being home by Labor Day, less than two weeks away. He just wanted to be sure all the swelling had gone down in his brain, so there wouldn't be complications, and that sounded sensible to her. But it reminded her of something she wanted to discuss with the children. Their annual Labor Day party. They hadn't been planning to give it this year, but after what had happened, and the tragedy they'd been spared, she thought it was time for a celebration. And going back to Lake Tahoe was now impossible. It was too much for Peter to travel so soon.

“Can he go back to school on schedule?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Close enough. Maybe a week late. Nothing too dramatic. He can't drive though.” And Liz had been planning to take him on a college tour in September. That would have to wait awhile too, until he was stronger.

They talked about the details of his recovery for a while, and he invited her back to his office for a cup of coffee before she left, and she sank into a chair looking exhausted.

“Long day?” he asked, looking sympathetic. She had so much responsibility, he knew, and he was impressed by how well she handled it, how calm she was, and how loving she was with her children.

“No longer than yours,” she said kindly.

“I don't have five kids, and one in the hospital.” Or a child who was learning-delayed, and obviously needed more careful attention than the others, not to mention three adolescent daughters, who were clamoring for her attention. “When I think about it, I don't know how you do it.”

“Neither do I sometimes. You just do what you have to.”

“And you?” he asked quietly, looking at her over his coffee mug. “Who takes care of you, Liz?”

“I do. Peter sometimes. My secretary, my housekeeper, my friends. I'm pretty lucky.” It was an odd way to look at it, from his perspective. After losing her husband whom she counted on for twenty years. She was trying to do it all on her own. He admired her a lot for what she was doing, and it was obvious to him she did it well.

“When I look at you, I feel guilty for how little responsibility I have. I don't even have a goldfish. Just myself. I guess I'm pretty selfish.”

Compared to her, he felt as though he had very little to deal with.

“Just different. Everyone has different needs, Bill. You obviously know yours, and you have it the way you want it.” He was old enough to have done something about it, if he didn't. He was forty-five years old, he had said a few days before, and his life obviously suited him, just as hers did. “I'd be lost without my kids.”

“I can see why. They're all terrific. And that doesn't just happen. You put a lot into it, and it shows.” He remembered what Jamie had said about her coaching him for the Olympics. He couldn't help wondering when she found the time.

“They're worth it, and they make me happy. Speaking of which,” she said, putting down her mug and standing up, “I'd better get home before they disown me. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'm off for a few days, but Peter will be in good hands.” He gave her the doctor's name, and told her when he'd be back. He was going up to Mendocino.

“Have fun,” she said, smiling at him, “you've earned it.”

And that night when she went home, she talked to the kids about the Labor Day party, and she was surprised to find they had mixed emotions about it. Megan and Jamie thought it was a great idea, but Rachel and Annie thought it was a betrayal of their father to have it without him. It had been their father's favorite holiday, other than the Fourth of July.

“Who'll do the barbecue?” Rachel asked plaintively.

“We will,” Liz said calmly. “We do barbecues all the time. Peter can help. I just think we need to celebrate the fact that he's okay, and still with us.” And when she put it that way, they grudgingly accepted. By the end of the week, they were actually excited about it. They were all going to invite friends, and so was Liz. They had about sixty names on the list, and Liz was looking forward to it. It was the first time she had entertained since Jack died, but it had been eight months and seemed respectable. And Peter was thrilled when they told him about it.

And by the time he was ready to come home, four days before Labor Day, more than fifty people had accepted. She was working out Peter's discharge plan and his therapy schedule with Bill Webster, when she thought of extending an invitation to him. “It's kind of a celebration for Peter,” she explained, “it would be great if you could come. It's very informal, just jeans and sweaters.”

“Can I wear scrubs? I don't think I own anything else. I never have time to go anywhere.” But he looked pleased to be invited, and told her that if he wasn't working, he'd be there.

“We'd love to have you.” They had a lot to thank him for, and it was a nice way to do it. She had sent him a case of wine too, and he'd been pleased to receive it from her. But suddenly it seemed right that he be there to celebrate Peter's homecoming. Without him, Peter might not have been there at all, it was an intolerable thought.

Most of all, Bill urged her not to let Peter overdo it. He was young, and he'd be straining at the bit once he got home, wanting to see his friends and run around with them. But otherwise, Bill thought he'd be fine, and have no residual effect of the accident, once he finished his therapy, which would be by Christmas. “Keep a tight rein on him for a while,” he admonished her, and she nodded.

“I'll do that.” He wasn't going to be able to drive for a month or two, until he got the brace off his neck, and she knew that that was really going to be hard on Peter, and she'd be playing chauffeur more than she had time for. But someone had to do it, and a lot of the time, Carole was busy with the girls and Jamie. “We'll manage.”

“Keep in touch. And call me if he has any problems.”

On the morning Peter left the hospital, Bill came to say good-bye to both of them, and he shook Liz's hand with a warm look. It was obvious that he was going to miss her. She had spent a fair amount of time in his office, drinking coffee and chatting, and they had grown comfortable with each other. She reminded him about the Labor Day party, and he said he'd do his best to be there.

“He'll be there, Mom,” Peter confirmed as they drove away.

“Not if he has to work,” she said matter-of-factly, but she was sorry to see the last of him too. After the experience he'd gotten them through, he felt like a friend now, and she would be forever grateful to him.

“He'll be there,” Peter repeated smugly. “I told you, he likes you.”

“Don't be such a wiseass,” she said with a grin, unconcerned by what he was saying. He was just Peter's doctor.

“I'll bet you ten bucks he comes,” Peter said, readjusting his neck brace.

“You can't afford it,” his mother said, and slipped quietly into the traffic. And whether or not Bill came to their Labor Day party, she assured herself, was entirely unimportant. She had convinced herself of it, though not Peter, as he smiled at her.

Chapter 8

The Labor Day party was a big success. All of the kids’ friends came, and most of their parents, and some people Liz hadn't seen since before Jack died. Victoria and her husband came, and brought the triplets. Liz and Peter manned the barbecue, and he did very well, despite his neck brace. And Annie, Rachel, and Megan mingled with the guests. Everyone seemed to have a good time, and half an hour after the party began, Bill Webster wandered in, and looked a little lost until he saw Jamie.

“Hi, remember me?” He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, his hair was neatly combed, and Jamie smiled as soon as he saw him.

“I remember you. You don't like shots either.” Jamie grinned up at him.

“Right. How's Peter doing?”

“Pretty good, except he yells at me when I jump on him.”

“He's right, not to yell, but you need to be a little careful with him. His neck is kind of broken.”

“I know. That's why he wears the big necklace.”

“I guess you could call it that. Where's your mom?” Bill asked, smiling.

“Over there.” He pointed to the barbecue, and Bill nodded, watching her make hamburgers. She was wearing a barbecue apron over jeans, and her red hair stuck out in the crowd, as did Peter's. And in spite of the fact that she was hard at work, she was smiling, and looked very pretty. Her hair had grown over the summer, and she was wearing it long on her shoulders. And as though sensing Bill watching her, she looked up, and saw him. She waved a spatula toward him, and he approached slowly, followed by Jamie. And when he got there, Bill saw that Peter was standing near her, wearing what Jamie called his “necklace.”

“How's it going?” the doctor asked his patient, and Peter grinned, and spoke to his mother in an undertone, pretending to hand her something.

“You owe me ten bucks, Mom.”

“He came to see you,” she whispered sotto voce, and then turned to greet Bill and offer him a glass of wine. He smiled at her, and asked for a Coke instead, since he was on call. The mood around them was casual and festive.

“You look very professional with that barbecue.” Bill smiled at her and sipped his Coke.

“I learned from an expert.”

“Peter seems to be doing fine,” he said, casting a glance at his patient. Peter was having fun with his friends, and flipping hamburgers, despite the cumbersome neck brace.

“He wants to go back to school next week,” she said, looking worried for a minute.

“If you think he's up to it, let him. I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you.” She turned the barbecue over to Carole and Peter then, and one of their neighbors lent a hand, so she could walk off with Bill for a few minutes. They sat down on two empty chairs and she sipped a Coke. She wasn't much of a drinker. “How are things at the hospital?” It seemed funny being here with him, away from the concerns they had shared about Peter. Now they were on their own, like two ordinary people, and she felt suddenly shy with him.

“Things at the hospital are too busy. And they'll get worse before they get better this weekend. Holiday weekends are killers, literally. Car accidents, gunshot wounds, attempted suicides. It's amazing what people can come up with when they're off work for a few days, especially when you put a steering wheel in their hands.”

“It's nice that you could get off and take the time to come over.”

“I didn't. I'm on call. I've got my pager on, but I figured they could live without me for a while. I left my chief resident in charge. He's good, he won't call me unless he has to. What about you, Liz? How are the holidays for you? They can't be easy.”

“This one is better than I expected. The first of everything has been rough. Valentine's Day, Easter, the kids’ birthdays, Fourth of July, but Labor Day is kind of innocuous. I thought this would be fun for the children.” And everyone seemed to be having a good time, especially her children. They looked happy to have their friends around, it was the first time the family had entertained since Christmas.

“I used to love holidays when I was a kid. Now they're just workdays.” His life sounded lonely to her, but he seemed to like it that way. She had noticed that he was at the hospital constantly when Peter was there, which made it even nicer that he had come to her party. “What do you do with your spare time when you're not working and chasing kids?” He looked at her with interest as he asked the question and she laughed as she answered.

“What else is there? You mean there's life after work and kids? I'm not sure I remember what that feels like.”

“Maybe you need to be reminded,” he said casually. “When was the last time you went to the movies?”

“Hmm …” She thought about it and shook her head. It was hard to believe it had been as long as it had been. She had dropped kids off and picked them up at the movie house in Mill Valley, but she hadn't gone herself in months. “I think the last time I went to the movies was last Thanksgiving.” With Jack of course. They had gone, as they always did, after everyone had settled down after Thanksgiving dinner. It had been a tradition with them.

“Maybe we could go to a movie sometime,” he said hopefully, as his pager went off, and he looked down at his belt where he had clipped it. The display told him it was an emergency, and he took a cellular phone out of his pocket and called the hospital. He listened carefully, told them what to do, and then turned to Liz with a look of disappointment. “They've got a nasty one on their hands, Liz. A couple of kids in a head-on. I'd better get back. I was hoping for a hamburger and a little more time. You'll have to give me a rain check.”

“How about taking a hamburger with you?” she asked as she walked him toward the gate to the backyard. The barbecue was set up right near it, and she asked Peter to wrap one up in some tinfoil, and handed it to Bill as she walked him to his car. It was a ten-year-old Mercedes. He had a certain style about him, although it was hard to tell as he wandered around the hospital in scrubs and clogs. But here he was wearing immaculate, pressed jeans, and well-polished loafers, and his hair was impeccably combed, which it hadn't been any of the other times she'd seen him.

“Thanks for the hamburger,” he smiled. “I'll call you for that movie. Maybe next week?”

“I'd like that,” she said, feeling shy again, and suddenly very young. It had been years since a man had invited her to the movies. But what the hell, he was nice, and respectable, and he was right, she needed to get out more than she had been.

Victoria commented on Bill's brief appearance when Liz stopped for a minute to talk to her after he left.

“He's cute,” Victoria said with a mischievous smile, “and he likes you.”

“That's what Peter says.” Liz grinned, and then looked serious again. “He's great at what he does.”

“Did he ask you out?” her friend asked bluntly, sounding hopeful.

“Don't be silly, Vic. We're just friends.” But the truth was, he had, although Liz was surprised to realize she didn't want to admit it to her. It didn't mean anything. Just a movie. And maybe they'd never do it after all. Liz told herself it wasn't worth mentioning to Victoria, and then moved on to check on her other guests.

The party went on for hours, and it was after eleven when the last guests went home. The food had been good, the wine plentiful, and the people pleasant and happy. They'd all had a good time, and as the kids helped her clean up and carry the stray glasses inside, she was glad she had done it. She was helping Carole load the dishwasher when the phone rang, and she glanced at the clock in surprise, it was after midnight, and she couldn't imagine who would call them.

She answered it, wondering if one of the guests had forgotten something, and was surprised to hear a familiar voice. It was Bill, calling to thank her for the party.

“I thought you'd probably still be up. Has everyone left?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Your timing is perfect. How did your emergency go?”

He sighed before he answered, he didn't like talking about it. Some situations were better than others. “We lost one of the kids, but the other one is doing fine. It happens that way sometimes.” But he sounded as though he took it to heart each time he lost one.

“I don't know how you do it,” she said softly.

“It's what I do.” And it was obvious that he loved it, particularly when he made a difference, as he did much of the time. “So when are we going to the movies?” He didn't even give her time to answer or reconsider. “How about tomorrow? I have a night off, and I'm not on call, a rarity, believe me. We'd better grab it while we can. What about pizza and a movie?”

“Best offer I've had all night … all year,” she smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me too. I'll pick you up at seven.”

“I'll see you then, Bill. And thank you. I hope it's a peaceful night there.”

“And for you too,” he said gently. He remembered how much trouble she had sleeping.

She was still smiling to herself when she hung up the phone, and Peter walked into the kitchen. He looked at her, and then raised an eyebrow as he asked a question.

“And who was that?”

“No one important,” she said vaguely. But Peter was staring at her with a look of concentration. He didn't believe her, and then suddenly he knew, and grinned as he teased her.

“It was Bill Webster, wasn't it, Mom? Tell the truth. It was … right?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She looked faintly sheepish.

“I told you he likes you! That's terrific.”

“What's terrific?” Megan asked as she joined them in the kitchen. Carole was through loading the dishwasher by then, and the younger children had gone to bed a few minutes after the guests left.

“My doctor likes Mom,” Peter said with obvious pleasure. He liked him.

“What doctor?” Megan looked surprised at what her brother had just said.

“The one who saved my life, dummy. Who else?”

“What do you mean, ‘He likes Mom.’ What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means he called her.”

“For a date?” She looked horrified as she glanced from Peter to her mother, and Peter fired another question at her.

“I don't know. Did he ask you for a date, Mom?” He looked vastly amused, but Megan didn't.

“Sort of,” she admitted, and Megan looked outraged. “We're going to the movies tomorrow.” There was no point hiding it from them, they'd see him pick her up anyway. And besides, she had nothing to hide. He was a nice guy, and Peter's doctor. They were just friends, and she was sure he had nothing more lurid in mind than what he had proposed, pizza and a movie. “It's no big deal. I just thought it might be fun,” she said apologetically, as Megan continued to glare at her.

“That's disgusting. What about Daddy?”

“What about Daddy?” Peter pointedly asked his sister. “He's gone. Mom isn't. She can't sit here taking care of us forever.”

“Why not?” Megan didn't see his point, and what she did see of it, she didn't like. In her opinion, her mother had no reason to be dating. “Mom doesn't need to go out,” she said both to Peter and her mother. “She has us.”

“That is the point exactly. She needs more than that in her life. After all, she had Daddy,” Peter said, sounding firm.

“That's different,” Megan said stubbornly.

“No, it isn't,” Peter insisted, as their mother stayed out of it, but she was fascinated by the conflict of opinions. Megan was adamant that she shouldn't be dating, and Peter was clear that she needed more in her life than just work and children, which was precisely why Bill Webster had invited her out. He had said much the same thing as Peter. But it was equally obvious that Megan felt threatened by the idea of a man in her mother's life who wasn't her father.

“What do you think Daddy would say about your going out, Mom?” she asked her mother directly.

“I think he'd say it's about time,” Peter said simply. “It's been nearly nine months, and she has a right. Hell, when Andy Martin's mom died last year, his father got remarried in five months. Mom hasn't even looked at another man since Dad died,” Peter said fairly, but Megan looked even more worried.

“Are you going to marry the doctor?”

“No, Megan,” Liz said quietly, “I'm not going to marry anyone. I'm going to eat pizza and see a movie. It's pretty harmless.” But it was interesting to her to realize the strong reaction her children had to it, both pro and con. It made her think about it herself as she walked slowly upstairs to her bedroom. Was it wrong? Was it a crazy thing to do, or inappropriate? Was it too soon to be “dating”? But she wasn't dating Bill, they were just going out for movies and dinner, and she certainly didn't want to marry anyone, as Megan had accused. She couldn't imagine marrying anyone after Jack. He had been the perfect husband for her, and anyone else would fall short, she was sure. This was just an evening out, and Bill was just a friend. But Megan was still on the warpath when Bill came to pick her mother up the next evening promptly at seven. Megan glared at him, and stomped up the stairs as loudly as she dared after she let him in. She didn't say a word to him, or introduce herself, and Liz apologized for her being so rude, but Jamie made up for it as he came downstairs with a broad smile to greet Bill. He was happy to see him. And Bill smiled and chatted with him before they left for dinner.

“Did you have fun at the party last night?” Bill stroked the silky dark hair as he asked him.

“It was fun.” Jamie nodded. “I ate too many hot dogs and got a stomachache. But it was fun before that.”

“I thought so too,” Bill agreed, and then pretended to look worried. “You're not going to give me a shot, are you, Jamie?” The child laughed at the joke, and then Bill asked him if he'd ever flown a kite, and Jamie admitted that he hadn't. “You'll have to come fly mine with me sometime,” he said pleasantly. “I have a really great one. It's an old-fashioned box kite I made myself, and it flies really well. We'll take it out to the beach sometime and fly it.”

“I'd like that,” Jamie said with wide eyes and a look of interest.

Rachel and Annie came down to say hi to him then, but Megan never appeared again. She was sulking in her room, and furious with her mother. Peter was out, he'd been picked up by friends since he couldn't drive, and Bill said to say hello to him as they left. Jamie promised to tell Peter when he got back.

“They're great kids,” he said admiringly. “I don't know how you do it.”

“Easy,” she smiled as she got into his comfortable Mercedes, “I just love them a lot.”

“You make it sound a lot easier than it is. I just can't see myself doing that,” he said, as though contemplating a liver transplant, or open-heart surgery. He made it sound painful and difficult, and potentially fatal. Being a parent had always been something of a mystery to him.

“Can't see yourself doing what?” she asked, as he started the car and backed down her driveway.

“Being married and having kids. You make it look so effortless, but I know damn well it isn't. You have to be good at it. It's an art form. It's a lot tougher than practicing medicine, from all I know.”

“You learn it as you go along. They teach you.”

“It's not as simple as that, Liz, and you know it. Most kids act like juvenile delinquents, and wind up on drugs, or something close to it.

You're damn lucky to have five kids like that,” and he included Jamie in the compliment just as she did. He was a terrific kid, and despite his challenges, he only took a little more care and attention than the others. She had to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't accidentally hurt himself, or do something dangerous, or get lost.

“I think you've got some funny ideas about kids,” she said as they drove along. “They're not all little hoodlums, you know.”

“No, but a lot of them are, and their mothers are worse,” he said matter-of-factly, and she laughed.

“Should I get out of the car now before you find out the truth about me, or will you trust me through dinner?”

“You know what I mean,” he insisted. “How many marriages do you know that work, really work?” he asked bluntly, sounding like a true cynic, and a confirmed bachelor.

“My marriage worked,” she said simply. “We were very happy for a very long time.”

“Well, most people aren't, and you know it,” he said, trying to convince her.

“No, you're right, most people aren't that happy, but some are.”

“Damn few,” he said, as they reached the restaurant, and she looked at him cautiously once they were seated at their table.

“How did you get such terrible views about marriage, Bill? Was it as bad as all that?”

“Worse. By the time it was over, we hated each other. I haven't seen her since, and wouldn't want to. And she'd probably hang up on me, if I called her. That's how bad it was. And I don't think we were the exception.” It was obvious that he believed what he was saying, although Liz didn't.

“I think you were,” she said calmly.

“If we were, then you'd be out of business.” She laughed at that, and they ordered a mushroom-and-pepperoni pizza with olives on it. It sounded good to both of them, and when it came, it was delicious. They dove into it, and had eaten roughly half when they decided they'd had enough, and the waitress served them coffee.

They had talked about a lot of things, medicine, the law, the years he had spent in New York during his residency, and how much he liked it, and she talked about going to Europe with Jack and loving it, particularly Venice. They touched on a wide variety of subjects, but she was still intrigued by what he'd said about marriage and children. He obviously had very strong opinions on the subject. And she felt sorry for him. He had deprived himself of a way of life she cherished. She wouldn't have given up the years of her marriage for anything, and certainly not her children.

Without them, she knew her life would be empty, as she suspected his was. All he really cared about was his work, and the people he took care of and worked with. It was a lot, but not enough for a whole life, in her opinion. But they didn't bring up the subject again. Instead, their conversation turned to films.

He had very eclectic tastes, he liked foreign films, and arty movies, as well as some big commercial ones. She admitted that she enjoyed the kind of movies she saw with her children, they were all very commercial films, and in Peter's case, action movies. And she used to love going with them. It reminded her of how little she had done with her children, out in the world, since Jack died. She was always there for them at home, but she seldom went out with them anymore, and she promised herself silently that she would in future. Bill had gotten her rolling again, and after the film they saw that night, she promised herself she was going to take the kids soon. It was a long time since they had done something like that together, and it was time now.

She invited him in for a drink when they got home, but he said he had to get up early the next day. He had to be at the hospital at six, and she was touched that he had stayed out so late with her. It was after eleven o'clock, and more likely than not, he'd be tired in the morning. She apologized to him for it and he smiled.

“I think you're worth it.” She was surprised by his words, but she was glad he said them. She had had a good time with him. She thanked him, he promised to call her again soon, and she went inside as he drove away. Peter and Megan were still up, and she could see almost before she closed the door that she was about to be subjected to the inquisition.

“Did he kiss you?” Megan asked accusingly, with a tone of disapproval and revulsion.

“Of course not. I scarcely know him.”

“That wouldn't be cool on the first date,” Peter said wisely, and his mother laughed.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you guys, we're just friends. I think he's very careful not to get involved. He cares more about his work. And I care more about you. You have nothing to worry about, Megan,” she said firmly.

“I'll bet you ten bucks he kisses you next time,” Peter said with a look of amusement.

“You won't win that one,” she told him. “Besides, who tells you there'll be a next time? Maybe he had a lousy time and won't call me.”

“I doubt it,” Megan said glumly. She could see disaster ready to strike them, in the form of Bill Webster.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Meg. I wouldn't waste time worrying about it. Besides, I have a trial next week that I'll have to work on.”

“Good. You can stay home with us. You don't need a man, Mom.”

“Not as long as I have you, is that it, Megan?” But she had to admit, it had been nice being out with Bill, talking about grown-up things and learning about him. There had been just enough of an undercurrent of mutual admiration. They didn't want anything from each other, they just liked each other, and they'd had a good time. Even if she never heard from him again, Liz told herself, it was nice being with him, and feeling like a woman, and not just a mother. It was nice being with someone who wanted her to have a good time, and was interested in talking and listening to her.

She sent Megan and Peter off to bed then, and went to bed herself. Jamie was already in her bed, waiting for her. He still slept with her sometimes, and it was nice being in bed with him too. And as she fell asleep beside her child, she wondered if Megan was right, and she didn't need a man. But she wasn't quite as convinced as she had been. It had been nearly nine months since she lay beside Jack, and had made love with him. It seemed like an eternity to her now, and for the moment at least, she had no real desire to change that. In her mind, that part of her life was over forever.

And as he went to sleep that night, Bill Webster was thinking of her, and how much fun she had been. He wasn't sure what would come of it, but there was no doubt in his mind, he liked her.

Chapter 9

Bill called her again later that week, and invited her to the theater this time. They drove to the city, and had dinner there, and afterwards he came in for a glass of wine, and they talked for a while, about the theater, and books, and she told him about a difficult case she was working on, involving a custody suit and a child she suspected was being abused. She had reported the parents to child protective services, and they had discovered she was right. In some ways, it presented a moral dilemma for her, and she wished that she could represent the child and not the parents.

“Why can't you?” he asked matter-of-factly. It seemed so simple to him, but for her it wasn't.

“It's a little more complicated than that. I'd have to be appointed by the court to represent the child, and I wasn't. I'm considered tainted because I represent the father. And they're right. It would be a conflict of interest for me to represent the child, although I'd much prefer it to representing her father.”

“I had a case like that, a kid in the trauma unit who they claimed had been beaten up by a neighbor. They wanted to bring charges against him and they told a very convincing story. I was suitably outraged. Turns out the father was beating the child, and he had brain-damaged her by the time she got to me. There wasn't a hell of a lot we could do about it. They took the child away from them, once she got out of the hospital, but she begged the judge to go back to them. I was afraid the father would kill her. The judge sent her to foster care for a few months, but eventually the child went back to her parents.”

“And then what happened?” He had piqued her interest.

“I don't know. I lost track of them, which seemed too bad. My work is so immediate and so acute, once people get well, I lose them. It's the nature of the beast in trauma and emergency. You do what you can in the immediacy of the moment, and then they fade out of your lives.”

“Don't you miss having a long-term relationship with your patients?”

“Not really. I think that's part of what I like about it. I don't have to worry about solving problems that aren't really mine to solve, or can't be. This way it's much simpler.” He was clearly someone who didn't want long-term relationships of any kind. But she liked him in spite of it. And every now and then, when he said things like that, she felt sorry for him. His life, and philosophies, were everything hers weren't. Everything about her life was long-term and deeply involved. There were clients who stayed in touch with her for years after their divorces. It was just a difference in style, and clearly, she and Bill Webster were very different. But it was equally clear that they liked each other.

It was late again when he left that night. He sat and talked to her till nearly one o'clock, and he was sorry when he left that he couldn't stay longer to talk to her. But they both had to get up early the next day. She had to go to court, and he was due on duty at the trauma unit at seven in the morning.

And Peter had a sly look in his eye when he asked her at breakfast the next day if he'd won his bet.

“No, you lost this time,” she smiled, and laughed.

“You mean he didn't kiss you, Mom?” Peter looked disappointed and Megan made a face of utter outrage.

“You're disgusting,” she accused him. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mom's,” he said clearly, and then he turned back to his mother. “Would you tell the truth if he did, or would you lie just to win the ten bucks?” He loved teasing her, and she laughed as she made them all pancakes.

“Peter, how insulting! I have more integrity than to lie to my own flesh and blood to win a bet.” She handed him a plate of pancakes and poured syrup on it.

“I think you're lying, Mom,” Peter accused her.

“I'm not. I told you, we're just friends, and I like it like that.”

“Keep it that way, Mom,” Rachel added. Another country heard from. Liz looked at her youngest daughter with interest.

“When did you get interested in this?”

“Peter says he likes you, and Meg says you're going to marry him.” In some ways, she was sophisticated for eleven. She was nearly twelve, but not quite. She had just turned eleven when her father died, and like all of them, she had grown up a lot in the past year, as had their mother.

“Let me reassure you all,” she said with a broad smile, as they finished their breakfast, “two dinners do not constitute an engagement.”

“It's too soon for you to be going out,” Annie added, looking at her sternly.

“And when do you think it would be appropriate?” her mother asked her with interest.

“Never,” Megan answered for her younger sister.

“You're all nuts,” Peter said, as he got up from the breakfast table. “Mom can do whatever she wants. And Dad would think it's fine. Dad would be dating by now, if it had happened to Mom instead,” and she realized as she listened that by the grace of God it could have. And she thought Peter's comment interesting, as she mulled it over on her way to work. Would Jack have been dating by then if she had died instead? She had never thought about it, but she suspected he might. He had a healthy attitude about life, and too much joie de vivre to get buried in a closet, mourning her. Peter was right. Jack probably would have been dating. It made her feel better about seeing Bill Webster.

He called her in the office that day, and asked her to go to the movies with him again the following weekend. They seemed to be seeing a lot of each other suddenly, and she didn't mind. She enjoyed him.

And this time when he came to take her out, Jamie let him in, and brought him up-to-date on the situation.

“My sisters don't think you should be taking Mom out. But Peter thinks it's all right, and so do I. The boys like you, and the girls don't.” He summed it up for him nicely, and Bill laughed out loud and mentioned it to her on the way to a small French restaurant in Sausalito.

“Are they really upset that we're dating?” he asked with interest.

“Are we?” Liz asked easily. “I thought we were just friends.”

“Is that what you want, Liz?” he asked her gently. They were at the restaurant by then, and he had just pulled into the parking lot as he turned to look at her. He was anxious to hear how she answered the question.

“I'm not sure what I want,” she said honestly. “I have a good time with you. This just kind of happened.” It was how he felt as well, but he was beginning to feel more for her than he'd expected. At first, he would have been satisfied to be her friend, but now he wasn't as sure. He was beginning to think he wanted more from her. But they didn't press the point any further, as they walked into the restaurant, and stayed off heavy subjects for the rest of the evening.

But this time, when he took her home, Peter would have won the bet, if there had still been one. Just before Bill walked her into the house, he pulled her carefully into his arms, and with a look of tenderness in his eyes, he kissed her. She looked a little startled at first, and then she relaxed in his arms, and kissed him back, but afterwards she looked sad, and he was worried.

“Are you all right, Liz?” he whispered.

“I think so,” she said softly. For a flash of an instant, kissing him made her think of Jack, and she almost felt as though she were cheating on him. She wasn't hungry for a man, she hadn't been looking for anyone, but Bill Webster had walked into her life, and now she had to deal with her feelings about him, and her late husband. “I didn't expect that,” she said, turning to look at him, and he nodded.

“Neither did I. It just kind of happened. You're an amazing woman.”

“No, I'm not,” she smiled at him, as they lingered outside. It was nice to be out in the fresh air, and not within earshot of her children. It would have made her uncomfortable if they had been aware of what had just happened. And as though to reinforce what they had both felt that night, he kissed her again, and this time she kissed him back with greater fervor. She was breathless when they stopped and a little worried. “What are we doing?” she asked, as they stood beneath the stars of a September night, and he smiled at her.

“I think we're kissing,” he said simply. But it was much more than that, it wasn't just idle curiosity, or the hunger of two lonely bodies, it was the clear attraction that happened sometimes between a man and a woman, a meeting of minds as well as lips. There were a great many things they liked about each other, although they had already agreed that they were very different. He liked fleeting relationships of all kinds, and everything in her life was based on permanence, marriage, children, career, even her two employees had worked for her for years. There was nothing temporary in her life, and he knew that about her. It was almost a challenge to him to be different. But he wasn't sure now if he wanted to be temporary in her life either. This was a new experience for him, but she wasn't the kind of woman he usually was attracted to. “Let's take this slow,” he said to her, “and not think about it too much. Let's just see what happens.” She nodded, not sure what to say to him, or if anything more should happen.

But by the time she was in the house again, and he was gone, she was consumed by guilt over what she'd done. She felt as though she had betrayed her husband. But he's gone, she told herself, and he was never coming back. But then why did it feel so strange to be kissing Bill, and so wrong, and at the same time so exciting? It unnerved her as she thought about it, and she lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about him, and Jack, and wondering what she was doing.

And the next morning, when she woke up, tired from a long, sleepless night, she told herself that they would have to go back to their easy friendship, without adding complications to it. She felt better when she decided that, until he called her at ten o'clock that morning.

“I was thinking about you, and I thought I'd call and see how you were,” he said gently.

“I'm sorry about last night,” she said simply.

“What were you sorry about?” he asked, sounding strangely calm and more than a little happy. “I was only sorry that we didn't kiss again. That was pretty great stuff, as far as I'm concerned.”

“That's what I was afraid of. Bill … I'm not ready. …”

“I understand. No one's pushing. This is not a race. We don't have to ‘get’ anywhere. We're just there for each other.” It was a nice way to put it, and she was grateful that he didn't press her. It made her feel a little silly for being so worried.

“How about if I come and cook dinner for you and the kids on Saturday? I have a night off, and I'm a pretty fair cook. How about it?” She knew that she should turn him down, but was surprised to find she didn't want to. And what harm could there be in letting him cook for them?

“All right. I'll help you.”

“I'll bring the groceries. Is there anything special the children like?”

“They eat anything, chicken, fish, steak, pizza, spaghetti. They're easy.”

“I'll think of something.”

“Jamie will be thrilled.” And the girls would hate it, but she didn't say that. It was a good opportunity to encourage them to relax about him. They could see how harmless he was, or was he? Were they right after all that this was a potentially dangerous situation? She hated to think that. She wanted to be his friend, and she liked kissing him. But did it have to be more than that? She couldn't see why. Maybe they could just keep it to kissing. She certainly wasn't going to let it go further than that, for her own sake, not her children's.

He arrived at six o'clock on Saturday night, as promised, with three bags of groceries. He said he was going to cook them southern fried chicken, corn on the cob, and baked potatoes.

He had brought some ice cream bars too. And as he buzzed around her kitchen, he wouldn't let her help him.

“You relax,” he told her. He handed her a glass of wine, poured one for himself, and proceeded to cook them an excellent dinner. Even the girls were surprised and pleased when they ate it, although Megan continued to refuse to speak to him. But Jamie chatted with him throughout the meal, and Peter did too, and eventually Annie and Rachel joined the conversation. They were talking about schools, and colleges for Peter. He had set a date for his college tour with Liz, in early October, and Bill gave him what advice he could. Although he thought Berkeley might be fun, he felt Stanford and UCLA the better choices for him, for a variety of reasons. And they were still discussing it at the end of the meal when Rachel, Annie, Jamie, and Liz cleared the table. Peter was still deeply engrossed in conversation with Bill, and Megan slipped upstairs without thanking him for dinner, and Liz was furious with her. But afterwards, Bill told Liz not to push her.

“She'll get used to me, give her time. There's no rush.” He kept saying things like that, and they always made Liz faintly nervous. Why did they have to give her time? Surely he was not going to stick around long enough for it to matter. But that was not what he had been hinting.

He kissed her again that night, after all the kids went to bed, and it made her nervous to kiss him in her house. This was getting very cozy, and a little too familiar. And he had been very nice to her children. It had all the makings of a full-scale romance. Jack had been gone for nine months by then, and she was beginning to feel as though she were walking through a mine field, which might explode at any moment. Megan was poised for attack, the other girls were unsure, and more than anything, Liz had her own emotions to deal with, her concerns about Bill, and his propensity for temporary attachments, by his own admission, and her sense of loyalty to Jack, which was being severely challenged by her feelings for Bill Webster.

She felt that way all through September and into October, and it was a relief when she left for the weekend on the college tour with Peter. But in spite of that, Bill was calling every day, and even called her at the hotel in Los Angeles where they were staying. It was a surprise to hear from him, but she was smiling when she hung up, and this time Peter didn't comment. He didn't want to say anything to upset the delicate balance of their romance, mostly because he liked him, and wanted it to work out between them. And he knew from little things she said how ambivalent his mother was feeling.

When they got back, she waited a few days before she saw Bill, and then only for a quick hamburger in the cafeteria on a night he was on duty at the hospital, but Bill had been anxious to see her. The nurses all recognized her, and some came over to say hello, as did the chief resident, and everyone said to say hello to Peter.

“Everybody loves you, Liz.” She had made a big impression on everyone with her devotion to Peter. Not all parents were as attentive as she was, in fact few were. And she was attentive to Bill too, always asking him questions about his work, and concerned about him, and the challenges and stresses he faced daily. When he was with her, he was always aware of how much she cared about him, sometimes more than she was. She had a hard time admitting that to herself. It still had too many implications.

It wasn't a coincidence when, the following week, early on a Saturday morning, after they came back from L.A., she stood quietly on Jack's side of their closet, looking at the jackets that still hung there. They looked lifeless now, and sad, and it depressed her to see them. She didn't hold them close to her anymore, or stroke them as she once had, or try to imagine him as she clung to them. It had been several months since she held his lapels to her face and smelled them, and as she looked at them now, she knew what she had to do, for her own sake. It had nothing to do with Bill, she told herself. It had been ten months since Jack died, and she was ready. And one by one she took the jackets off the hangers, and folded them in a neat pile. She would have offered them to Peter, but he was too tall and too young to wear them, and it was easier to dispose of them than to see someone else wear them.

It had taken her two hours to empty the drawers and the hanging part of the closet, when Megan walked into her room and saw what she was doing. Megan started to cry, and for an instant Liz felt as though she had killed him. Megan stood there staring at the neat piles of his clothes on the floor and sobbed, and as Liz looked at her she started crying, for her children, for him, for herself. But no matter what she hung on to now, they had lost him. He wasn't coming back, and he didn't need the clothes anymore. It was better to give his things away, she told herself, but as she saw Megan's distress over it, she wondered.

“Why are you doing that now? It's because of him, isn't it?” They both knew she meant Bill, and Liz shook her head, as they both stood in the walk-in closet crying.

“It's time, Meg. … I had to…. It hurts me too much to see them,” Liz said, as she cried and reached out to her daughter, but Megan pulled away, ran to her room, and slammed the door, and a few minutes later, Liz followed. But Megan didn't want to talk to her, and Liz went back to her own room, to put Jack's clothes in boxes. Peter walked by her room and saw what she was doing, stopped and looked at her, and then quietly offered to help her.

“I'll do it for you, Mom. You don't have to do that.”

“I want to,” she said sadly. It was the last remnant of him that he had left behind, other than his trophies, and his photographs, and a few mementos, and of course their children.

Peter helped her take it all out to the car, and as though sensing that a turning point had come, one by one the children came and watched her. There was a look of loss evident in their eyes, and at the very last, Megan came out of her room and looked at her mother. It was obvious that it wasn't easy for Liz either, and then, as a silent move of support for her, each of the children picked something up, a box, a bag, a coat, and carried it to the car. It was a last gesture of good-bye to their father. And at the very end, Megan came, carrying the last armload.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” she whispered through her tears, and Liz turned and clung to her, grateful for the bond between them.

“I love you, Meg.” Mother and daughter cried as they held each other, and the others were crying too by the time the car was full.

“I love you too, Mom,” Megan said softly, and the others came to hug her.

She was taking the clothes to a local charity drop, and Peter offered to drive her.

“I'm okay. I can do it alone,” she reassured him. He was wearing a smaller neck brace by then, and had just begun to drive again, and he insisted on driving her. She was too upset to drive the car and she knew it. And together, they drove slowly out of the driveway, with the car piled high with his father's things, as the others watched.

They were back half an hour later, and Liz looked ravaged, and when she walked back into her closet that afternoon and saw the empty space, her heart gave a little tug, remembering what had been there, but she felt freer. It had taken her a long time, but she knew she had been right to wait until she was ready, despite the endless advice she'd been given about when to put away Jack's clothes.

She sat in her room for a long time, staring out the window, and thinking of him, and when Bill called late that afternoon, he could hear in her voice that something had happened.

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried.

“More or less.” She told him what she had done that day, and how hard it had been, and his heart ached as he listened. In the past two months, he had come to care about her deeply.

“I'm sorry, Liz.” He knew it was a sign of some kind, a symbol of the fact that she was slowly letting go of the past, and saying a last good-bye to her husband. He would always be a part of her, and their children were his legacy, but she was loosing her grip on his reality and daily presence. “Can I do anything?”

“No,” she said sadly, they both knew it was a private agony, and a solitary moment.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out tonight, but maybe that's not such a great idea.” She agreed with him, and he said he'd call her in the morning. In the end, he called her again later that night, just to see how she was. She still sounded sad, but a little better, and she'd spent a quiet evening with the children. They had all calmed down after the sorrow of the morning. And only Liz was left with her memories, and her sense of loss. The others seemed to have come to terms with it long before she had.

The next day when he called, she sounded more herself again, and he was pleased when she agreed to see him that evening. She seemed quieter than usual, and more subdued, but after they talked for a while, she was laughing again, and seemed in better spirits.

They went for a long, quiet walk, and held hands, and when he kissed her this time, they both knew it was different. She was ready to face the future, to let go of the past, and move forward.

“I love you, Liz,” he said, as he held her close to him, and she smelled his now-familiar aftershave. He was so different from Jack in so many ways, and she cared for him, but she could not bring herself to say the words. Not yet. And maybe never.

“I know,” was all she said, and he didn't expect more of her. It was enough for both of them for now that he had said it.

Chapter 10

By Halloween, they both knew it was serious. Neither of them had come to terms with it, or figured out what it meant for their future, but Bill was obviously in love with her, and although she didn't admit it to him yet, she knew that she loved him. It was a dilemma for her, because she didn't know what to do about it, or what to tell her children. She had talked to Victoria about it more than once, and her only advice had been to go slow and let things “unfold,” which sounded sensible to Liz, and it was what she thought too. She knew that in time, they'd both know how they felt, and what to do.

Bill came to the house and they took Rachel and Jamie trick-or-treating. Annie and Megan said they were “too old” to go trick-or-treating, and stayed home to hand out candy at the door with Carole. Peter was at his new girlfriend's house, handing out trick-or-treat candy there.

And late that night, when the children were in bed, Bill looked at her quietly, and asked her if she would go away with him for the weekend. She hesitated for a long time, and he was suddenly terrified that he had ruined everything, but they had been dating for two months, and their passion had become harder and harder to restrain. He knew that he hadn't misinterpreted what she felt for him, and his own feelings were clear, at least to him. And he felt like a kid again when she quietly said she'd go to the Napa Valley with him the following weekend. They agreed not to tell the kids, and he said he'd make reservations for them. He wanted to take her to the Auberge du Soleil, because it was the most romantic place he could think of for their first weekend together.

Bill picked her up late Friday afternoon, he had been working since the night before, but he was so happy and excited that he wasn't tired. And Liz had made lots of plans for the children that weekend to keep them busy. She had told them she was going to stay with a friend from law school, and she had arranged a time with Bill to pick her up when she knew everyone would be out. Only Carole knew where she was really going. And Bill was faintly amused by her modesty and discretion, but he also knew that it was easier for them both that way. There was no need to upset her kids. Although Peter and Jamie might have been pleased to know they were going away together, the girls most certainly wouldn't. There was still plenty of resistance among them being generated by Megan. She was civil to him by then, but barely more than that, and there was no reason to antagonize her further.

The scenery was beautiful along the way, the leaves had turned a variety of coppery colors, and the grass was still green, as it always was in winter. It was an odd combination of East and West, the fall colors of New England, combined with the evergreen of California. And they chatted all the way to Saint Helena. Liz was quiet from time to time, and he didn't want to ask her what she was thinking. He knew that being with him was still an adjustment for her, and she had told him more than once that there were times when she felt as though she were betraying Jack. He knew that in some ways, this weekend wouldn't be easy for her. And as they drove along, Liz glanced at the wedding ring she was still wearing.

They checked into the room close to dinnertime, and Liz was touched when she saw how elegant it was. He had gone all out to spoil her and make her happy. And the view of the valley stretching endlessly before her at dusk took her breath away. She went into the bathroom to change after Bill poured them both some wine, and came out in a new black dress for dinner.

They ate in the hotel's dining room, and afterwards went to sit in front of the fireplace at the bar, while a woman sang at the piano. And they were both comfortable and relaxed as they wandered slowly back to their room. They held hands, and as soon as they walked in, Bill kissed her. It was a kiss that told her everything she meant to him, and within minutes, they were both swept away by their passion for each other. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, the lights were low, and Bill lit the candles on the coffee table, and then they sat down on the couch with their arms around each other. And slowly, he peeled the black dress away, as she unbuttoned his shirt. It was wonderful to be there alone, and have the freedom to do whatever they wanted. And then gently, he led her toward the bed. He undressed her slowly and sensually, and they slipped into the clean sheets naked and lay there for a long minute, just holding each other.

“I love you so much, Liz. …”

“I love you too …” she whispered to him. It was the first time she had actually said the words to him, but this time they came easily to her, as easily as what came next, as they kissed and then finally gave in to their passion. She was swept away by him and the longing she had felt for him, and suddenly all the sorrow and loneliness and fear seemed to fall away, like a cocoon she had wrapped herself in and no longer needed to protect her. She needed no protection from him, there was no place to hide, nothing she held back from him, as she gave herself to him. And afterwards, they lay breathless and sated and she smiled at him, but there was something bittersweet and nostalgic in her eyes, and he knew that the past and the memories still had their fingertips on her heart. It would have been impossible for it to be any different, and they both knew that.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, worried about her, and sorry that she still looked so sad. But no matter what he saw in her eyes, she was smiling at him.

“I'm fine … better than that … you make me so happy.”

It was almost true, as true as it could be at the moment.

He saw that there were tears in her eyes. It was hard not to think of Jack at moments like this, as she gave herself to someone else. It was another important step away from him, a step she had postponed for as long as possible, but that she wanted to take now. It was like walking across a bridge from one life to the next. But she felt safe with Bill, and she could tell him anything. He wasn't wounded or upset because she admitted that it wasn't easy for her.

They lay side by side in bed for a long time, talking about things, and he admitted that he had never loved anyone as he loved her. And she lay peacefully beside him, enjoying being with him, and trying to force herself not to think of Jack. But it was hard not to think of him, and Bill was sensitive to her feelings.

As the weekend unfolded, she was less and less aware of Jack, and more and more aware of Bill and all that she shared with him. They went for long walks, and talked about a variety of things, their work, her children, their dreams. They avoided talking about the past as much as possible, and inevitably on Sunday morning, as they sat on the deck of their room, looking out over the Napa Valley, their conversation drifted slowly toward the future.

He was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and she was wearing a cozy wool bathrobe in the cool November morning. The day was warm, and it was pleasant just sitting there, basking in the sun, as they shared the paper. And when Liz glanced up at him and handed him the sports section, he was smiling at her.

“What are you looking so happy about, Dr. Webster?” She smiled at him as he took the paper from her.

“You. This.” He gestured toward the valley. The whole weekend had had the feeling of a honeymoon to both of them, and in some of the more important ways, she was his now. Jack was drifting slowly into the mists behind her. And although part of her still wanted to hold on to him, and always would, she knew she had to move on. And Bill was a wonderful companion to her. “What are we going to do about us?” he asked her gently.

“What does that mean?” She looked suddenly worried as he said it. They were words she was not yet ready to hear, and he knew that, but he couldn't help it. It had been on his mind since they started dating. “We don't have to do anything,” she said, sounding nervous.

“It might be nice though. Is it too soon to talk about that, Liz?” They had made love again the day before, and at night in front of the fire, and again that morning. They were amazingly compatible, and it was hard to believe they had never made love before that weekend. Everything about them seemed to mesh and blend, and be just what they both needed and wanted. It was hard to ignore that. “I never thought I'd be saying this to you,” he went on, suddenly feeling young and awkward, but he was so in love with her he didn't want to lose her. “But I think eventually we ought to get married.” She was shocked when he actually said it. She had never expected him to say that, it was completely out of character for him.

“I thought you didn't believe in marriage.” She looked as though she wanted a recount, and he could see that she was frightened by what he had said.

“I didn't, until I met you. I guess this is why, because somewhere in my heart, I hoped it could be like this one day, and I didn't want to waste my tickets with someone it wouldn't work with, like my first wife. We damn near annihilated each other.” But in his eyes at least, this was perfect. And she could see being with him for a long time, maybe forever, but she was not yet ready to say it. It was too soon for her, and the memories of Jack were still too fresh. It hadn't been a year yet, although it was close to it. “I don't want to blow anything by talking about this too soon, Liz, but I wanted you to know that this is the direction I'm headed.” She wasn't a woman one took lightly, and there were her kids to think of. He had thought about them a lot, and knew he could come to love them. He already did love Jamie, and had a strong bond with Peter. And he figured the girls would come around eventually. He had never had a problem winning over women and children, when he cared to, and in this case he did.

“I don't know what to say.” She had friends who went out with men for years who never took them seriously, never proposed, and had no desire to, and she had just spent her first weekend with him, and he was talking about the future. “It's only been eleven months since Jack died. That's not very long. I need time to readjust and get back on my feet again, and so do the kids.”

“I know. I'm not in a hurry. And I know how important the year is to you.” She talked about it a lot, and it was a milestone she obviously respected, as did her children. And he had to respect it with her. “I was hoping we could talk about it again in January, after the holidays, and see how you were feeling. I was kind of hoping that Valentine's Day …” Her heart gave a little tug as his voice drifted off. Valentine's Day had meant a great deal to her and Jack. But so many things had, and they were gone now, except for the children.

“That's just three months away,” she said with a look of panic. But it meant a lot to her too that he was asking.

“We'll have known each other for six months by then. It's fast, but respectable. A lot of people know each other for less, and have very happy marriages.” She knew that was true, but she and Jack had known each other for a long time. And she had been unprepared for what Bill was saying to her. She wasn't averse to it, but she needed time to think it over. He looked at her then, with everything he felt for her in his eyes. “I'll do whatever you want, Liz. I just want you to know how much I love you.”

“I love you too, and I feel very lucky. Some people aren't that lucky once, I've been blessed twice, but I still need some time to get over what happened.”

“I know that. I'm not rushing you. But I guess what I want to know is if, in time, you might want the same future I do.”

“I think so,” she smiled shyly, and then took a breath and let her emotions rule her for a moment. “I just need time to get there. Let's talk about it again after Christmas.” She wanted to honor the year, for Jack's sake, and her own, and the children's.

“That's all I wanted to know,” he said gently, and took her hand from across the table. “I love you. I'm not going anywhere. We've got all the time in the world to put this together. As long as it's what we both want, there's no hurry.” He was reasonable and kind and compassionate, she couldn't have wanted more from any man, and she wasn't even sure Jack would have been as understanding. He was far more impatient and stubborn, and less willing to follow her lead. More often than not, it was Jack who determined both their pace and their direction. In some ways, it was more of a partnership with Bill, and she liked that.

They drove slowly back to Tiburon that afternoon, and the children were all home when they arrived. She could see Megan raise an eyebrow when she got out of Bill's car, but nothing was said until later that evening, when the younger children were in bed and Peter was busy doing his homework in his room.

“Why were you in Bill's car?” Megan finally confronted her in her bedroom that night. “Did you spend the weekend with him?” Liz hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. If she was going to marry him eventually, which was the direction they seemed to be heading in, from everything they'd said over the weekend, she wanted to be honest with her daughter.

“Yes, I did. We went to the Napa Valley.”

“Mom!” Megan shouted at her. “That's disgusting!

“Why? He cares about me a great deal, and I care about him, there's nothing wrong with that, Meg. We're not hurting anyone. I think we love each other.” But it was a heavy dose for her daughter to swallow.

“What about Daddy?” There were tears in her eyes when she said it.

“Daddy's gone, Meg. I loved him with all my heart and always will. This isn't the same, it's different, for me, and for all of us. But I'm not going to be alone for the rest of my life. I have a right to someone in my life.” She spoke to her daughter as gently as she could, but it needed to be said.

“That's sick!” Megan chastised her, furious with her mother. “It hasn't even been a year since Daddy died. I never knew you were a slut before, Mom.” Her eyes were blazing and Liz stood up in anger as she said it. She had never laid a hand on her and she didn't intend to start now, but she wasn't going to let her behave that way either.

“Don't speak to me that way. Now go to your room until you can be civil. If you want to talk about it with me, you can, but you can't be disrespectful.”

“I have no reason to respect you!” Megan said grandly from the safety of the doorway, and then slammed the door, and ran into Peter's room and told him what had happened. But instead of sympathizing with her, he called her a bitch and told her to apologize to her mother. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Hers,” he said bluntly, “she's done everything for us, and she loved Dad just as much as we did. But she's all alone, there's no one to help her or take care of her, she works like a dog for us, and to keep Dad's law office open. And besides, Bill's a nice guy and I like him. We could do a lot worse, so if you want to know whose side I'm on, I'm on their side. Don't ask me for sympathy if you're acting like shit with Mom, Meg.”

“You're an asshole!” she shouted at him, with tears brimming in her eyes. “And besides, she has us, she doesn't need some guy to sleep with.”

“She can't sleep with Jamie for the rest of her life. What happens when we go to college? I'll be gone next year, you'll be gone in two years. Then what? She's supposed to sit here waiting for us to come home from school so she has a life again? She has no life without Dad, Meg. Look at her, all she does is work and drive carpool. She deserves better than that, and you know it.”

“Not yet,” Megan said, overwhelmed by what he'd said, as she sat down on his bed and started crying. “It's too soon. I'm not ready.” He sat down next to her and put his arms around her then, he had grown up immeasurably in the past year, even more so since his accident, and they all knew it. “I miss Daddy,” she wailed, sounding like Jamie.

“So do I,” Peter said, fighting back tears of his own. No matter how much he had grown up, or how sensible he was, he still missed him. “But whether or not Bill is here, it won't change that. Nothing will. We just have to accept what happened.”

“I don't want to,” she wailed, getting mascara all over his T-shirt. “I want him back.” There was nothing he could say to her, he just held her while she cried, and they both thought about their father.

And finally, after Peter talked to her for a while when she had calmed down, Megan went and apologized to her mother. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, after opening it without knocking.

“I don't like him, but I'm sorry for what I said about you.” It was the best she could offer, and her mother acknowledged the apology with a serious expression.

“I'm sorry you're so unhappy, Meg. I know this isn't easy.”

“You don't know what it's like for us, you have him now,” she said accusingly, and Liz sighed as she looked at her.

“Being with Bill doesn't make me miss Daddy any less. Sometimes it makes me miss him more.

This isn't easy for any of us. And I know how hard it is for all of you.” It was getting better for all of them, but slowly.

“Do you really love him, Mom?” Megan still looked horrified by what her mother had said, and she wished she'd never heard the words.

“I think I do,” Liz said honestly. “I need time to figure it out. He's a nice man. That's all I know right now. I still have a lot to sort out about Daddy.”

“It seems like you want to forget him,” Megan said sadly.

“I can never forget him, Meg. No matter what I do, or where I go. … I loved him for half my life, and we had all of you … things just happened. It wasn't fair, for any of us. But now we have to make the best of it, and go on, the way he would want us to.”

“You're just saying that to make yourself feel better.”

“No, I'm saying it because I believe it.”

Megan just shook her head then, and went back to her own room. Her mother had given her a lot to think about, and she didn't even want to share it with her sisters. And after Megan left the room, Liz went quietly to the jewel box she kept in her closet, and took off the wedding ring Jack had once placed on her finger, and she felt as though she were ripping her heart out as she did it. But she knew that the time had come. Peter noticed it the next morning, but said nothing to his mother or the others, although it even made him sad to see it.

But for the next two weeks, whenever Bill came to pick Liz up, Megan was a little more respectful. She didn't say much to him, but she wasn't rude to him either, and Liz was grateful. It was the best she could hope for, for the moment. Jamie and Peter were still his most ardent fans among the kids.

Liz was spending a lot of time with Bill, and they went to his apartment and made love whenever he had some time and was off duty. Sometimes they spent time together when he was on call, and he would have to leap out of bed and grab the phone, but Liz never objected. She had a strong respect for his work, more than for her own these days. She had told him more than once that her family law practice depressed her. She no longer seemed to enjoy what she was doing. It had been fun with Jack, but it wasn't anymore. It seemed frivolous and argumentative and so pointless. The only thing she really liked these days was structuring good custody arrangements for people's children.

“Maybe I'm losing it,” she said to him one day when they met in the hospital cafeteria for a sandwich. She had just been to court, and she was furious with one of her clients, who had behaved like a boor to his wife in court in front of the judge. She had been tempted to walk off the case, but she hadn't. “I don't even enjoy going to court anymore.”

“Maybe you just need a breather.” She'd only had two weeks off in the past year, she worked weekends and nights, and she was carrying a double workload.

“Maybe I should go to beauty school and get a job in a beauty parlor. It might be more useful.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” he smiled at her, but she still looked unhappy.

“Jack loved family law work, it was really more his thing than mine. I just got good at it from working with him. But I don't know now….” She was one of the best divorce lawyers in the area, and it was hard to believe she didn't like it. Her clients would have been stunned by what she was saying. She was always so full of energy, bright ideas and creative suggestions. But lately, she felt like a windup doll whose batteries had run down. She didn't enjoy it anymore, and she wasn't happy. But she felt she owed it to Jack to keep going, for him.

She asked Bill what he was doing for Thanksgiving. They had talked about it once before, and he wasn't sure if he'd be working. He had just found out that he had the day off, and he wouldn't even be on call. He was free to do whatever he wanted, but he hadn't made any plans since he had expected to be working over the holiday.

“Why don't you spend it with us?” Liz said easily. The children were getting used to him, and it might be a nice way to break everyone in, she thought, over the holidays. They all loved Thanksgiving, or at least they had, when their father was alive. Liz knew it would be different this year, for all of them and her too. And trying to keep the tension level down, she had discouraged her mother from coming out.

But she wasn't prepared for the children's reaction when she told them that Bill would be joining them. Megan had a fit, predictably, Rachel and Annie said that he wasn't part of the family and didn't belong there, and even Jamie looked a little startled. She talked to Peter about asking Bill not to come, but he thought that would be mean, and he thought it might be nice to have him. And in the end, she didn't say anything to Bill about their reaction. She just hoped they'd settle down, and be good sports when the day came, but she realized on Thanksgiving Day that her optimism had been unfounded. When the doorbell rang and he arrived, all three girls were still very angry with her.

Bill walked in wearing a tweed jacket, gray slacks, and a red tie, and Liz was wearing a brown velvet pantsuit. The children were all neatly dressed, and Peter was wearing the same suit he'd worn at his father's funeral, Jamie his gray flannels and blazer. They were a handsome group, and as Liz poured Bill a glass of wine, she was suddenly glad that he had joined them. She realized suddenly how empty the table would seem to all of them without their father there. It would have turned into another mournful memory of him, and this way they had to keep up a good front, and talk to Bill, and each other.

They sat down to their Thanksgiving meal at five o'clock as they always did, and she said grace, as they bowed their heads. She thanked God for the many blessings they shared, the people at their table, and those who were absent, and specifically Jack. There was a long moment of silence after she said it, and Megan looked pointedly at Bill Webster. And then Liz said “Amen” and went out to the kitchen with Peter to get the turkey.

Peter was seated at the head of the table, which reminded everyone again that things were different, and the new face seated next to Liz emphasized it even further.

The bird itself was a splendid specimen, and Liz had cooked it to perfection. Carole was off for the weekend, and the girls had helped her make the stuffing. Rachel particularly liked to cook, and Jamie had helped them. But when Peter tried to carve, he proved to be hopelessly inept, and Liz had never been good at carving. Bill stepped to the head of the table with a smile.

“Let me give you a hand, son,” he said amiably. He was enjoying the family scene around the table. It had been years since he'd celebrated a real Thanksgiving. He was always working. But his choice of words had run through Megan's heart like a sword, and she spoke barely audibly but loud enough for Bill to hear her.

“He's not your son,” she said in a venomous tone. Bill looked surprised and glanced at Liz, and then turned to Megan.

“I'm sorry, Megan. I didn't mean to offend anyone.” There was total silence then as he carved the bird, and he was good at it. And as Liz handed out their full plates she chatted a little too much and a little too hard to compensate for the awkward moment. But by the time Bill sat down again, everyone had calmed down.

The table was quieter than usual this year. It was their first Thanksgiving without their father, and everyone was aware that the agony of Christmas was coming.

Bill asked if they'd done their Christmas shopping yet, and everyone looked mournful at the question. They were not an easy group to entertain, but eventually Jamie made them laugh at something he said, and Annie chimed in, and reminded them of the year that Dad had dropped the turkey on the kitchen floor while he was carving it, and no one had told Mom. She never knew it had slid halfway across the floor before she served it.

Bill laughed along with them, and Liz poured him another glass of wine, and when they took the plates out to the kitchen and brought back the pies, Rachel said loudly that he drank too much, and Bill heard her.

“It's okay, Rachel, I'm not on call today,” he said with a warm smile, but she didn't respond, and he went on talking to Jamie. Bill was certainly not drunk, but he'd had three glasses of wine by then and seemed comfortable and happy. He'd been talking to Jamie about football.

“Dad hated football.” Megan added insult to injury, she was goading him, and they all knew it.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Meg. It's a great sport. I used to play in college.”

“Dad said only morons and brutes play football,” she said then, stepping over the line, and her mother was quick to stop her.

“Megan, that's enough!”

“Yes, it is, Mom!” She threw down her napkin and stood up with tears in her eyes. “Why does he have to be here with us? He's not our father, he's just your boyfriend.”

The other children looked stunned, and Liz was shaking as she answered. “Bill's our friend, and it's Thanksgiving. That's what Thanksgiving is about, friends joined around a table to give thanks, and to join hands in friendship.”

“Is that what you do with him? ‘Join hands’? I'll bet you do a lot more than that, and I'll bet Daddy hates you for it,” she said, and then ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door, as Peter leaned over and apologized for her. But one by one, Rachel and Annie left the table too, as Jamie helped himself to a slice of apple pie while no one was looking. It looked too good to waste, and no one else could think about eating.

“So much for family holidays,” Bill said with a grim look, as Liz looked at him in devastation. She realized now that she had been ambitious in inviting him, and including him in the family wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped. In fact, she understood all too well now, it was going to be a nightmare.

“I'll go up and talk to her,” Peter said, looking embarrassed for all of them, and then to Bill, “I'm sorry about my sisters.”

“Don't worry about it. I understand.” But in fact, he didn't. He was looking tense and grim when he glanced at Liz, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

“I guess this is harder for them than I thought.”

“It wasn't exactly a picnic for me either, Liz,” he said bluntly. “The role of intruder isn't one I wear very well, I'm afraid. They act like I'm an ax murderer, or as if I killed their father.” His ego was bruised, and his feelings had taken a beating at her children's hands, and he had no one to take it out on but her. Everyone was angry at her. Bill, and three of her children. Only Jamie looked unconcerned as he kept on eating. There was no one else left at the table.

“You have to understand how hard this is for them. It's their first Thanksgiving without their father.”

“I know that, Liz. But that's not my fault.” He raised his voice to her as he said it, and Jamie looked at him in consternation.

“No one said it was, but you're here and he's not. This is all my fault. I probably shouldn't have asked you,” Liz said, still crying, as Jamie watched them in silence.

“And what about next year? I'll make sure to sign up for a seventy-two-hour stretch at the hospital over Thanksgiving. It's obvious I won't be welcome here, at least not till your kids leave home.” He was overwhelmed by his own anger.

“Are you coming for Thanksgiving next year?” Jamie asked with interest.

“I was planning to, but now I'm not so sure,” he snapped at the child and then hated himself for it. He reached out and touched Jamie's hand, and lowered his voice again so he didn't scare him. “I'm sorry … I'm just upset.”

“Megan was rude to Mom,” Jamie said matter-of-factly. “And so was Annie. Don't they like you?” He looked sad for his friend, and Liz saw Bill's jaw tense when he answered.

“I guess not. I guess that's the crux of it, isn't it?” He directed his question at Liz, who wanted desperately to reassure him. “I guess I'm persona non grata here, and I'm kidding myself if I think it's ever going to be any different. As Megan said so succinctly at the beginning of the meal, I'm not their father, and I never will be.”

“No one's expecting you to be,” Liz said in the calmest voice she could muster. “All you have to be is their friend. No one's expecting you to fill Jack's shoes,” she said softly, fighting back her own tears, as he glowered at her.

“Maybe I am, Liz. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I was deluding myself that I could be important to you, and to them, instead of just an interloper, always playing second best to him. What was it Megan said, ‘a brute and a moron’?”

“She was just trying to provoke you.” Her loyalty was to her children, but to him too. It was a ghastly situation for her.

“Well, she succeeded very nicely. In fact,” he stood up and put his napkin down on the table, “I think I'll give you all some relief, and myself. I think it's time for me to go back to work.”

“I thought you weren't working today,” she said, looking confused and upset. He had told her he was off for the holiday, which was how it had all started.

“I think I'll go back anyway. At least I know what I'm doing there. I think family scenes, particularly on holidays, aren't my strong suit.” In truth, he had done fine, but the deck had been stacked against him, and he knew it. It had been a no-win situation right from the beginning. He looked at Liz from where he stood, and neither of them moved, but she knew that something terrible was happening, and they were both afraid to say it. “Thanks for dinner, Liz. I'll call you.” And without another word, he walked out the front door and slammed it behind him, as she sat staring at it.

Jamie looked up at her then, having finished his pie, and commented on the situation. “He forgot to say good-bye to me. Is he mad at me?”

“No, sweetheart. He's mad at me. Your sisters were very rude to him.”

“Are you going to spank them?” She smiled at the question. She never had, and she wasn't planning to start now at their age, but the suggestion was certainly tempting.

“No, but someone should.”

“Santa Claus is going to put coal in their stockings,” Jamie said with a solemn look, and Liz smiled sadly. Just thinking about Christmas made her shudder. It was the anniversary of Jack's death, and she realized that under no circumstances could she include Bill in what they were doing. The Thanksgiving they had just experienced had taught her a painful lesson.

She and Jamie cleared the rest of the table then, and afterwards she went upstairs to talk to her daughters. Peter was sitting with all of them, and it was obvious that Megan had been crying.

“I hate him!” She spat at her mother, but Liz managed to stay calm in spite of the havoc she had caused. She knew what was behind it.

“I don't think you do, Meg. What's to hate? He's a nice man, even if he did play football in college. What you hate is the fact that your father's gone. So do I. But there's nothing we can do about it. And it's not Bill's fault. I shouldn't have invited him to join us today, and I'm sorry.”

Peter touched her arm with a gentle smile. He admired her so much, she was always straight with them, and he knew how much she loved them. She had been there for him in every possible way after his accident that summer. And he was sorry for her that their Thanksgiving had been such a disaster, and that Bill had been Megan's scapegoat. Like Liz, he understood perfectly why it had happened. Better than Bill did. In his opinion, Bill had overreacted, and he said as much to his mother when he walked her back to her own room.

“I'm not sure I blame him. The kids hit pretty hard, and he's not used to that. He doesn't have kids, he hasn't been married in a long time. I think his feelings were hurt. He feels like he can't measure up to your father.”

“Give him time,” Peter smiled. “They'll get used to him,” he said hopefully.

“I hope so.”

She lay on her bed in the dark for a while, in her brown velvet suit, with her shoes off, thinking about Jack, and Bill, and her children. It was a complicated situation, and she had her own grief and feelings to contend with. There was hardly room for them, she was always too busy dealing with other people. And as she lay there, she started to cry as she thought of her husband and how much she missed him. He had left a huge hole behind, and sometimes it seemed like there was no way to fill it. She loved Bill, but not the way she had loved her husband. At least not yet, but she thought she might someday. It would always be different because they were different people.

The phone rang while she was still lying there in the dark, and she reached out a hand to answer it, without turning the light on. It was Bill, and he sounded stressed. He didn't sound any better than he had when he left. In fact, he sounded slightly worse, but he said there was something he had to tell her.

“What's that?” she asked, with her eyes closed, still missing Jack, and feeling terrible about what had happened. She still felt as though she had Everest to climb, and she had been climbing for eleven months now.

“I'm sorry, Liz. I can't do this. I've thought about it, and I don't know what happened to me. I think I went kind of crazy for a while. I met you and fell in love with you, and your family looks so wholesome from the outside, and you were so vulnerable, I just fell into it like a trap. But it's not me, and I want out now.” Her eyes opened brusquely and she stared into the darkness as she listened.

“What are you saying to me?” But she knew. He had already made it clear, she just didn't want to hear it.

“I'm saying that I made a mistake, and it's over. I love you, and your kids are great. But I just can't do it. Megan did us all a big favor today. It could have taken us months or even years to see it this clearly. I had blinding clarity after I left. I went running, and it all came clear to me. I was insane for awhile, but now I'm not … Liz … I'm sorry … but it's over.” She couldn't even find words to say to him. She lay there feeling as though someone had hit her in the chest and knocked the wind out of her. She was speechless. And all she could think of were the waves of panic that had engulfed her when Jack died. And now she was losing Bill. She had barely had time to get used to him, to let him into her heart, but he was lodged there in spite of it, and now he was prying himself out. It was over. In one fell swoop, she had lost him. Thank you, Megan.

“Don't you want to think about this for a while?” She tried to reason with him, as she would have one of her children. “You're panicking, and your feelings are hurt. They'll get used to you, you know. All they need is time.”

“There's no point, Liz. This isn't what I want. I see that clearly now. We should both be grateful.” But she wasn't grateful. She was devastated. “I'll call in a few days to see how you are. I'm sorry, I really am, but this is the way it was meant to be. I know it.” How did he know? And what did he know? Two of her daughters had been rude to him, but they were just children, and they missed their father.

“Why don't you just calm down, and we'll talk about it later.”

“There's nothing to talk about.” He sounded panicked.

“I'm out, Liz. I told you, it's over. You have to understand that.” Why? Why did she have to understand everyone else's bad behavior? Why did she have to make excuses for him and her children? Why did she have to be the one who lost every time? They had lost too, but she had lost even more than they had.

“I love you,” she said clearly, as tears began to choke her.

“You'll get over it. So will I. I don't need another divorce, and you don't need another headache. You have enough without me. Just tell the kids to relax, the moron is out of their lives. They can celebrate now.” He sounded bitter and angry and like a petulant child, but she couldn't reach him.

“Jamie loves you, and so does Peter. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That we made a mistake, and we realized it before it was too late. It'll be a relief to them, and to us too one day. I'm going to hang up now, Liz. There's nothing left to say. Good-bye.” He said it with such finality that it took her breath away, and he hung up before she could even answer.

She lay holding the receiver in the dark, and she was crying when she set it down. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Just like that. He'd had “blinding” clarity and it was over. “Blinding” seemed to be the operative word here. And she wanted to shake him. But she wasn't even angry at him, she was just devastated. And this time, when she cried herself to sleep that night, it was for Bill, and not her husband.

Chapter 11

Liz dragged herself through the next few days, after the Thanksgiving fiasco, and she didn't say anything to anyone about Bill walking out on her after Thanksgiving, not even to Victoria when they spoke on the phone, and least of all to her mother, who would have had a lot to say about it. Her mother had told her beforehand that it was a mistake to invite him to Thanksgiving. And Liz had just thought she was jealous, because she hadn't invited her to come out, although they had talked about her coming for Christmas.

But after Thanksgiving, Liz hadn't looked as bad in months. She was sad and tired, and irritable with the children. At first, both Carole and Jean thought it was the agony of the upcoming holidays, and the memories they evoked. But it was Jean who finally understood what had happened. Bill had stopped calling.

“Did you two have a fight?” she asked gingerly, when Liz came back from court the week after Thanksgiving.

Liz looked up at her with a grim expression, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had lost weight in the past few days, and she was sleeping even less than she had been. “He walked out on me. The kids treated him like shit at Thanksgiving, or at least Megan and Annie did. And it was too much for him. They were incredibly rude actually, but apparently that was all he needed to convince him that it was all a big mistake, and our romance was the result of temporary insanity. Two weeks ago, he asked me to marry him on Valentine's Day. But we never made it through Thanksgiving.”

“Maybe he's just panicked,” Jean said cautiously. She hadn't seen Liz look that bad in months and it worried her. She seemed desperately unhappy, and it hadn't gone well for her in court that day. She had lost the motion, which just seemed to add to her depression. But the real issue was Bill and not the motion. “He'll be back, Liz. Let him calm down for a few days.”

“I don't think so. I think he meant it.” And she was sure of it when she called him at the end of the week, and he didn't return her call. And hating herself for it, she paged him. He called her back finally, after a few hours, and said he'd been tied up with an emergency, but his voice was distant and very chilly.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” she said, trying to sound light hearted, but he clearly had no interest in pursuing a conversation.

“I'm fine, Liz. Thanks for the call. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm busy.”

“Call me sometime.” She hated herself for sounding pathetic, but he was as direct as ever with her.

“I don't think that's a good idea right now. We both need to lick our wounds and get over what happened.”

“What did happen?” she asked, pressing him, and it was obvious he didn't like it.

“You know what happened. I came to my senses. I don't fit into your family, Liz, and I don't even want to try. You're a great woman and I love you, but this will never work. Not for me at least. You need to find someone else when you and the kids get over losing Jack, and that could take a while.” But it wasn't Jack she'd been thinking of for the past week, it was Bill. For the first time in eleven months, Jack seemed to be fading into the distance, and the pain Bill had inflicted on her as he left was far more acute, and more distressing.

“If we really love each other, we can work it out. Why don't we try?”

“For one very good reason,” he said bluntly, “I don't want to. I don't want to be married, or have kids, particularly someone else's kids who don't want me. They made it pretty clear, and I got the message.”

“They'd adjust in time.” She was pleading with him, and wishing that she wouldn't. It was humiliating but she didn't care. She knew now how much she loved him. And it seemed to be too late now. He wouldn't even give her a chance to try and work it out, and fix it.

“Maybe they'd adjust, Liz, but I wouldn't. And what's more, I don't want to. Find yourself another guy.” It was a callous thing to say to her, but it delivered the message.

“I love you. That's not a generic prescription, Doctor.”

“I can't help you out,” he said coldly. “And I've got to get back to the ER I've got a five-year-old with a tracheotomy sitting there waiting for me. Merry Christmas, Liz.” He was brutal, and she wanted to hate him for it, but didn't. She didn't have the energy to hate him. She felt as though someone had pulled the plug on her on Thanksgiving night, and someone had. He had.

She went home that afternoon, feeling sad and beaten, and it didn't help when Jamie looked up from the Christmas cookies he was making with Carole and asked her where Bill was. It was an interesting question. She didn't know what to say to him. Gone? Finished? Over? He doesn't like us anymore? It was hard to find the right answer for him.

“He's … busy, Jamie. He doesn't have time to see us right now.”

“Did he die?” Jamie asked with a worried expression. In his mind, people who disappeared like his father were probably dead now.

“No, he didn't. But he doesn't want to see us for a while.”

“Is he mad at me?”

“No, sweetheart. He isn't.”

“He said he'd fly his kite with me, and he never did. The one he made himself.”

“Maybe you should ask Santa for one this year,” she said, feeling drained. There wasn't much more she could say to him. Bill Webster had walked out of their life and there was nothing she could do about it. Even begging wouldn't have brought him back, and she knew it. Not pleading or cajoling or reasoning or loving. She had tried everything she could think of that afternoon on the phone, and the one thing that was clear to her now was that he didn't want her. There was no arguing with that. He had a right to make that decision.

“It won't be the same if Santa brings me a kite,” Jamie said sadly. “Bill's kite is special because he made it.”

“Maybe we can make one,” she said, fighting back tears. If she could train him for the running long jump, maybe she could learn how to make a kite. But what else was she supposed to do for them? How much did she have to learn? How many people did she have to be for everyone, because a lunatic had shot Jack, and Bill Webster had decided to walk out on her in a fit of panic? And why did she always have to pick up the pieces? She was haunted by the question.

Carole went to pick the girls up from school shortly afterwards, and as soon as they walked in, Jamie gave them the news his mother had shared with him. “Bill doesn't want to see us anymore.”

“Good,” Megan said loudly, and then looked faintly guilty as she glanced at her mother. She could see that her mother looked very unhappy.

“That's not a nice thing to say, Meg,” Liz said quietly, and she looked so sad that Megan said she was sorry.

“I just don't like him,” she added.

“You hardly know him,” Liz said and Megan nodded, and the girls went upstairs to do their homework. They only had three more weeks of school before Christmas vacation. But there was no holiday spirit in the house, and it broke Liz's heart when she brought out the decorations.

She decided not to put lights on the outside of the house this year, or in the trees the way Jack always did. They just put up decorations inside the house, and two weeks before Christmas she took them to buy a Christmas tree, but no one's heart was in it.

She hadn't heard from Bill in two weeks by then, and she suspected she never would again. He had made his decision, and intended to stick by it. And she had finally admitted it to Victoria, who was devastated for her, and offered to take her to lunch, but Liz didn't even want to see her.

And as Christmas approached, the entire house seemed to be weighed down, they were all sinking slowly into the mire of depression. It was nearly a year since Jack had died, and it suddenly felt as though it were yesterday. The children talked about him constantly. And Liz felt as though she were ricocheting between her agony over losing Bill and her memories of her late husband. She stayed in her room most of the time, and they didn't entertain friends. She turned down all the invitations to Christmas parties. She even decided not to have her mother come out, and told her she wanted to be alone with her children, and although her mother had sounded hurt, she said she understood it. And she invited another widowed friend to come and stay with her.

The only things Liz and the children did to acknowledge the holiday were hang ornaments on the tree, and bake Christmas cookies, and all she did was pray that the holiday would soon be over.

She thought about taking them to ski between Christmas and New Year's, but they weren't in the mood for that, and they decided to stay home, as they all sank slowly into the quicksand of painful memories that engulfed them.

She was sitting at her desk in the office the week before Christmas when a client called, sounding breathless, and asked if she could come in to see her. Liz had some free time that afternoon, and made an appointment for her. And what she heard when the woman came in didn't please her. The woman's husband was endangering her six-year-old son, he had taken him on the back of his motorcycle on the freeway without a helmet, flew in a helicopter with him, although he'd only just gotten his license, and let him ride his bike to school, in heavy traffic, and again without a helmet. The client wanted Liz to take visitation away from him, and to further make the point, she wanted to go after his business. But as soon as she said it, it had a familiar ring to Liz, and she shook her head firmly.

“We're not going to do that to him,” Liz said without a moment's hesitation. “I'll ask for mediation, and we'll get them to work out a list of things that he can't do with your son. But we're not going to take him to court, and we're not going after his business.” She said it so vehemently that the client looked at her with suspicion.

“Why not?” For a minute, she thought her husband had gotten to her.

“Because the price is too high,” Liz said simply. She had lost ten pounds in the last three weeks, and she looked tired and pale, but she looked so definite and so grim that the woman listened. “I had a case like that once before, not involving a child. But the only way to get the man's attention was by freezing his assets and his business.”

“Did it work?” the woman asked hopefully, it sounded good to her, but not to Liz.

“No, it didn't. He killed his wife, himself, and my husband last year on Christmas Day. If you hit your husband too hard, he may hurt you or your son. And I'm not going to be a party to that.” There was a long silence between them as the woman nodded.

“I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, so am I. Now here's what we are going to do.” They made a list of dangerous activities that he wouldn't be allowed to do, and Liz called the court-appointed mediator while the woman sat there. But the mediation office was swamped and the first appointment they could give her was on January eleventh. It was three and a half weeks away, and to help the situation along, Liz agreed to write him a letter of warning in the meantime.

“It won't do anything,” the woman looked at Liz bleakly. “If you don't hit him over the head with a hammer, he won't get it.”

“If we do, maybe you or your son will,” Liz repeated. “And I know you don't want that.” It was an impressive threat, and the woman left Liz's office feeling helpless. But at least Liz felt she hadn't jeopardized her client or her son when she went home that night, and the kids finally seemed in better spirits.

It had been the last day of school that day, and Carole had promised to take the four younger ones skating. Peter and his new girlfriend had a date for dinner and a movie. And Liz was looking forward to a quiet evening alone when the phone rang at nine-thirty. The voice on the other end was hysterical, and it took her a minute to recognize it. It was the client she had seen that afternoon, for whom she had scheduled the mediation. And to give her a sense of security, she had given her her home phone number. The woman's name was Helene, and she sounded nearly incoherent.

“Helene, calm down, and try to tell me what happened.” It took more than five minutes to understand the story clearly. Her husband, Scott, had taken their son Justin joyriding on the hills in San Francisco on his motorcycle. She wasn't sure if he'd been drunk or not, but it was a possibility, and the child hadn't been wearing a helmet, when they were hit by a truck. Both of Justin's legs were broken, and he had a head injury, although by some miracle he had landed in a patch of grass outside someone's house. He was in pediatric intensive care at Children's Hospital in San Francisco, and his father was in critical condition and still in a coma. The police had come to her house to tell her. The only comforting part of the story for Liz was that even if she'd agreed to take the son of a bitch to court, they wouldn't have gotten there yet, and it wouldn't have changed what had just happened. It wasn't her fault, but whether or not it was, Helene's little boy was in grave danger.

“Where are you now?” Liz asked as she stood up and reached for her handbag still sitting on the end of her bed.

“I'm at the ICU at Children's.”

“Is someone with you?”

“No, I'm alone,” she sobbed into the phone. She was from New York, and wanted to move back, as soon as her husband would agree to let her.

“I'll be there in twenty minutes,” Liz said, and hung up on her without waiting for an answer. She grabbed her coat on her way out the front door, glad that she had decided not to go skating with her children. She'd been feeling guilty about it, but she'd been so tired and depressed that she had opted not to.

She parked her car outside the hospital eighteen minutes later, and when she got to the ICU, she found Helene sobbing in the arms of a nurse. They had just taken Justin upstairs to put pins in both his legs, but the nurse said he was conscious and the head injury was nothing more than a bad concussion. The child, and his mother, had been very lucky. But sitting in the hospital with her, as they waited, reminded her of Bill again. She wondered how he was, and what he was doing. She knew there was no point thinking about it anymore, it had been more than three weeks now, and she knew he wasn't going to call her. He had made up his mind, and stuck to it. Bill was that kind of person. And the terrors she and her family represented were just too much for him.

Justin came back from the operating room shortly after midnight. He was still sedated, and his legs were bandaged to the hip and he looked like a little rag doll as he lay there, but the doctor said he'd be as good as new eventually, and in six months or a year, they'd take the pins out.

Helene cried as she listened to him, but she was calmer than she'd been when Liz had arrived. They had talked for hours about what they were going to do. She had finally convinced Liz. They were going to court, and putting every restriction on her husband they could, and then Liz wanted her to go back to New York. Helene was young and had family there, and even an old boyfriend who'd been calling and was hinting about marriage. Liz wanted her out of town and as far from her ex-husband as she could get her.

“And then,” she looked at Helene with a sad smile, as the child's mother walked her to the elevator and thanked her for keeping her company all night. “And then, I'm going to retire,” Liz said, with a sigh of relief. It was all she wanted. She'd had it with family law, and she'd been thinking about it for months. This was all she'd needed to convince her. She'd thought about it again on the way to the hospital and she was sure now.

“What are you going to do instead?”

“Grow roses,” she laughed, “and clip coupons. No, actually, I'm going to do something I really want to do, and have for a long time. I'm going to be an advocate for children. I'm going to work out of my house, and close the office I shared with my husband. I've done it alone for the last year, and it just isn't what I want.” She looked better than she had in weeks when she said it, and Helene thanked Liz again before she left.

“I'll call you when I get a court date.” She smiled at her client as the elevator doors closed, and she knew as she walked to her car with a lighter step that she had made the right decision. She wondered if that was how Bill had felt when he called to tell her it was over. Maybe it was, she thought to herself. Maybe she had been as big a burden for him, and as wrong, as the practice she had shared with Jack had become for her once he was gone. If so, she had to respect Bill's decision. But she had made hers that night, finally, as she sat holding Helene's hand, wanting to kill her ex-husband for what he had done to Justin, out of pure wanton negligence and irresponsibility. Helene's ex-husband was still in a coma when Liz left the hospital, and there was a possibility of brain damage, but at least Justin was going to be all right, and to Liz, that was all that mattered.

She drove into her driveway on Hope Street shortly after one o'clock, and everyone was in bed, except Peter, who had just come in from his date, and he was surprised to see his mother. She never went anywhere anymore, except court and work. He hadn't seen her out in the evening since Bill left.

“Where were you, Mom?”

“At the hospital, with a client. It's a long story.” They chatted for a minute and then she went up to bed. She was absolutely exhausted, but pleased with the decision she'd made that night. She knew without a doubt it was the right one.

And the next morning when she got to the office, she called the court and set a date for a hearing. She called Helene at the hospital to tell her. Helene said Justin was all right, and he'd be going home with her in a few days, but when Liz told her about the court date, she said quietly that they didn't need one.

“You're not feeling guilty about going to court against him, are you, Helene? No judge in any county would be sympathetic to a man who took his six-year-old son out on a motorcycle without a helmet. You've got the goods on him now, you might as well use them.”

“I don't need to.”

“Why not?” Liz looked blank as she waited. Her mind was already full of what she was going to say at the hearing. It was set for the week between Christmas and New Year's.

“Scott died of a massive brain hemorrhage last night,” she said quietly, and to her credit, she sounded sad. But he had been her husband, and her son's father.

“Oh …” Liz said, startled into silence for a moment. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I … I've hated him for the past two years, but he's still Justin's father. I haven't told him yet.” Hearing that made Liz squeeze her eyes shut, and it brought home to her what had happened.

“I'm really sorry.” The child was going to be heartbroken, even if Helene wasn't. “Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you.”

“I guess you know what that's like, for your kids, I mean.”

“Yes, I do. It's going to be hard for a long time. We haven't gotten over it yet.”

“I'm going back to New York to stay with my parents, as soon as Justin can travel.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

They hung up a minute later, and Liz was still looking pensive when Jean wandered into her office. “What was that all about?” She had heard Liz telling Helene she was sorry, and knew she'd been with her at the hospital nearly all night. She looked shocked when Liz told her.

“It's incredible the things people are willing to do to their kids,” Jean said, with a look of disapproval.

“Which brings me to another piece of bad news,” Liz said, feeling guilty, but she had wanted to tell her all morning. It was good news for her, but not for Jean. And Liz was going to be sorry to lose her. “I don't know how to tell you this, except straight on,” which was how Liz did everything, it was one of the things Jean loved about her. “I'm closing the office.”

“You're retiring?” Jean looked stunned, although she knew she shouldn't have. Liz had been carrying an insanely heavy load ever since her husband died, and Jean had figured that it was only a matter of time before Liz decided she just couldn't do it. The truth was she could, but she didn't want to. Not without Jack. And she didn't want another partner.

“I'm going to work part-time, from home, on child advocacy. It's what I really loved about what we did. I hated all the catfights and all the fancy footwork, and all the bravado and bullshit. That was always more Jack's style than mine. I care about the kids, and that's all I want to do now.”

Jean smiled generously at her, and came around the desk to give her a hug. “You did the right thing, kid. This place is going to kill you. You'll be great at the child advocacy stuff.”

“I hope so.” Liz looked worried then. “But what are you going to do? I've been thinking about it all morning.”

“It's time for me to grow up too. This may sound crazy at my age”—she was forty-three—” I want to go to law school.” Liz beamed at her, and then laughed. It was the perfect solution.

“Well, don't go into family law, you'll hate it.”

“I want to go into criminal, and work in the prosecutor's office.”

“Good for you.” Liz estimated it would take her three months to wind up all her cases, and then she wanted to take a few months off, and let everyone know what she'd be doing. She had earned a break, and she wanted to spend the time with her children. They had been patient for the last year, while she kept a dozen balls in the air, and worked long hours and endless days. She felt as though she owed it to them to take a break now.

“If I apply to law school before the end of the year,” Jean said, looking pleased, “I should be able to start in June, or at the latest September. That'll give me a couple of months off too. It'll do us both good.” They both felt as though they had aged a century in the last year, although they didn't look it.

Liz was still sitting at her desk chatting with Jean when Carole called, and Jean thought she detected a note of panic, but Jean didn't say anything to Liz when she told her Carole was on the phone. She figured it was just her imagination, and Carole was too busy over Christmas with the kids home.

“Hi there.” Liz was feeling expansive and relaxed, after having made her momentous decision. “What's up?”

“Jamie.” The way she said it rang a bell from the previous summer. She was speaking in shorthand.

“What happened?” Liz felt a sudden wave of panic as she waited for an answer.

“He was trying to hang a papier-mâché angel we made on the Christmas tree. He got the ladder out while I was doing something for Meg, and he fell. I think his arm is broken.”

“Shit.” It was five days before Christmas. And now that Liz listened carefully, she could hear him crying in the background.

“How bad is it?”

“It's at a very nasty angle.”

“I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can get there.” At least it was nothing as dramatic as what had happened to Peter, or little Justin the night before. But it was the first time Jamie had broken anything, and she knew he'd be panicked. She grabbed her coat and bag and ran out the door as Jean asked her what had happened. “Broken arm,” Liz shouted as she ran down the stairs. There never seemed to be a minute to just sit down and enjoy life. But what was there to enjoy these days anyway? Christmas was looming like a boulder about to fall on them, Jack was gone, and so was Bill now too. Merry Christmas.

Chapter 12

Liz flew into the hospital emergency room as she had the night before at Children's for Helene, and this time she was the anxious mother and not the professional comforter. It was a little different. Jamie was obviously in pain when she arrived, and screamed every time one of the nurses tried to touch him, and it made Liz feel sick when she looked at the way his arm was sticking out. There was no doubt about the fact that it was broken. The only question was how badly.

They were trying to reason with him when she arrived, but they had already concluded that they were going to have to sedate him, and they were going to take him up to surgery to set the arm.

An orthopedic surgeon had been called, and Carole looked guilty and frantic.

“I'm so sorry, Liz … I took my eyes off him for five minutes. …”

“It's all right, it could have happened if I was home too.” Jamie did things like that sometimes. All kids did. And Jamie was a little less sensible and less steady than most boys his age, for obvious reasons. Liz tried fruitlessly to calm him down, but he was screaming so loud he couldn't even hear her. He was in so much pain, he just sat on the gurney shrinking from all of them, and wouldn't let her hold him. It was very upsetting. And she was looking frazzled and worn out as she tried to talk to him again, and heard a familiar voice just behind her shoulder. “What's going on here?”

Liz turned instinctively and found herself looking into the eyes of Bill Webster. He had been in the ER to take a patient to the trauma unit when he heard the fuss, and saw the familiar red hair, and couldn't stop himself from coming over. “What happened?” he asked her, without introduction or greeting.

“He fell off a ladder and broke his arm,” she said simply, as he walked in front of Jamie and put himself in the child's field of vision to be sure he saw him. And for an instant, the wailing abated. It tuned down to vehement sobs, and as Jamie looked at Bill, his little shoulders were heaving.

“What happened, champ? Were you training for the Olympics again? It's not time yet. Didn't you know that?” He gently reached for the arm, and although Jamie shrank from him, he didn't scream or jump off the gurney, and let Bill touch him.

“I fffelllll … offffff … a lllladdddder.”

“Putting something on the Christmas tree?” Jamie nodded. “You know what we're going to do? We're going to give you a cast for that arm, and you have to make me a promise. Will you do that?”

“Wwwwhhhatt's the ppppromise?” Jamie was shaking from head to foot from all the crying, but as Bill talked to him he was gently feeling the arm, and distracting Jamie. And the child made no objection, as his mother watched him.

“I want to be the first one to sign your cast. Is that a deal? Not the second or the third … I've got to be first. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jamie nodded, as the surgeon arrived, and the two doctors conferred, and as they finished, Bill glanced at Liz. She was looking very thin, and at the moment distraught over Jamie's broken arm, which was why he had made the suggestion he just had to the surgeon.

“You know what we're going to do?” Bill asked Jamie as though he had a terrific surprise for him. “We're going to go upstairs and put on your cast now. And I'm going to come with you, just to be sure that no one else signs it first. How does that sound to you? You're going to sleep for a few minutes, and when you wake up, presto magic, the cast will be on, and I'll sign it.”

“Can I make the bed go up and down?” He still remembered that from Peter's stay there.

“We'll find you one you can turn every way you want, but first let's get that cast on.” He glanced at Liz to reassure her, and she nodded. She knew then what he had done, he had asked the surgeon if he could stay in the OR with Jamie, and the gesture touched her. She wanted to thank him, but he was already pushing Jamie toward the elevator on the gurney, and the surgeon was right behind them. She didn't want to call out to the child for fear that it would remind him that she couldn't go with him. So instead she huddled in a chair miserably, worrying about him, and thinking about Bill. It had been a shock to see him, but there had been so much else happening that they couldn't even speak to each other, which was probably better. There was nothing left to say anyway. It had been a month since she'd seen him, and it felt like aeons. She still cried herself to sleep at night over him, but there was no way for him to know that.

It was over an hour before they returned, and when they did, Jamie was still groggy, and Bill was still with him. The surgeon had gone on to another case, and Bill told her very professionally that everything had gone smoothly. It had been a clean break, and in six weeks they could take the cast off. They'd even given him one he could wear in the shower.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. He did fine upstairs. We put him out so fast he never knew what hit him.” She couldn't help but remember how gruff he'd been with her the first time they met, and notice how gentle he was with Jamie now. He was a man of a million facets. And Megan calling him a “brute” made her wince even more than before. It had been inexcusable, and she knew it. “Do you want a cup of coffee while he wakes up? It might be a little while, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Do you have time?” She didn't want to impose on him. She knew how busy he was, and he had already spent nearly two hours with Jamie.

“I have time,” he said, leading her down the hall to a room where the ER doctors relaxed between cases. But there was no one in the room when they got there. And he handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “He'll be fine, Liz, don't worry about him.”

“Thanks for being so nice to him. I appreciate it a lot. He was scared to death when I got here.”

Bill smiled as he nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. “He damn near screamed the house down. I wondered what was happening, that's why I came over. Great set of lungs on Master Jamie.” She smiled, and their eyes met. But neither of them acknowledged more than Jamie's broken arm. And it was obvious that they felt awkward with each other. He looked as though he had lost weight too, and he seemed pale and tired, but Christmas was busy for him. There were lots of drunk drivers and broken hips and traumas she couldn't even dream of, like what had happened to Justin, and now Jamie. Though Bill usually only handled the major disasters, like Peter's accident. “You look well,” he said finally, and she nodded, not sure what to respond to him. She could hardly tell him that she thought of him night and day and had figured out how much she loved him. It was a little late for that.

“You must be busy over the holidays,” she said to make idle conversation. Everything else she could have said sounded either argumentative or pathetic. And there was no point trying to sell him something he knew he didn't want. If he had wanted it, or changed his mind, he would have called. His silence was the final message. And she heard it loud and clear.

“I am pretty busy. How's Peter?” He was keeping the conversation to neutral topics, like his patient.

“As good as new,” she smiled, “and madly in love.”

“Good for him. Tell him I said hi.” With that, he looked at his watch and suggested they go back to Jamie. “He should be wide awake now.” He was, and he was asking for Bill and his mother, and he smiled when he saw them. “You didn't forget your promise, did you, champ?” Jamie shook his head with a broad grin, and Bill whipped a marker out of his pocket. He wrote a little poem to him, and drew a little dog, and then signed it, and Jamie was ecstatic.

“You were first, Bill, I promised!”

“You sure did.” Bill smiled at him, and then hugged him, as Liz watched them, feeling her heart ache. This was what she had lost when he walked out of her life on Thanksgiving. But she already knew exactly what she had lost, and there was nothing she could do about it. He had made up his mind.

“You never flew your kite with me,” Jamie said, as he looked at him, and Bill looked a little startled, and then dismayed.

“You're right, I didn't. I'll call your mom someday, and we'll take it out for a spin. Maybe after you get your cast off. How does that sound?”

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, and Bill lifted him off the gurney, and set him gently on his feet.

“Now, will you stay off that ladder for me?” Jamie nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. Bill was his hero. “And don't climb the Christmas tree either.”

“Mom won't let me.”

“I'm glad to hear it. Now, say hi to Peter and your sisters for me. I'll see you soon, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”

“My daddy died on Christmas,” Jamie informed him, and Liz felt her heart flinch. It was a reminder none of them needed.

“I know,” Bill said respectfully. “I'm sorry, Jamie.”

“Me too. It was a very bad Christmas.”

“I'm sure it was, for your whole family. I hope this one will be better.”

“I asked Santa for a kite like yours, but Mom says he won't bring one. She says we have to buy one.”

“Or make one,” Bill corrected. “What else did you ask Santa for?”

“A puppy, but Mom says we won't get that either, because Carole is allergic. She has asthma. I asked for games too, and a Nerf gun.”

“I'll bet you get those for sure.” Jamie nodded, and thanked him for the cast and for signing it, and then Bill turned his eyes to the child's mother. He could feel her watching them and there was something so sad in her eyes that it burned right through him. “I hope Christmas will be okay for all of you. I know the first year won't be easy.”

“It's got to be better than last year,” she smiled, with her mouth, if not her eyes, and he wanted to push back a lock of hair that had fallen across her eyes, but he didn't think he should. She did it herself a minute later, unaware that he had seen it. “Thank you for being so good to Jamie. I appreciate it.”

“That's what I do. Brute that I am,” he grinned at her, and she looked embarrassed. “I got over it,” he said to put her at ease again, “though I'll admit it smarted for a bit. Girls play dirty,” he said and laughed as he walked them to the door of the ER.

“Not all girls,” she said softly. “Take care, Bill. Merry Christmas.” She waved as she and Jamie left. Carole had gone home to the others while Jamie was in surgery. And Bill stood watching them as they got in the car, and then walked back through the emergency room with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

Chapter 13

When Jamie got home from the hospital, he told everyone he'd seen Bill, and told Peter he'd said hi to him, and then he showed them his cast and where Bill had signed it. He had everyone sign it then, including Carole and his mother. Liz watched him, feeling as though she'd been trapped in a whirlpool all afternoon, with her own emotions whirling all around her. It had been hard seeing Bill, but it was nice too. It was so tantalizing, she had wanted to just reach out and touch him. Or worse yet, tell him she loved him. But she knew that that would have been crazy. He was as far out of her life now as Jack was.

She went to the cemetery to leave flowers for her husband the next day. And she stood there for a long time, thinking of the years they had shared, and the good times they'd had. It all seemed so wasted now, so lost, all because of one terrible moment. It still seemed so unfair. She stood at his grave for a long time, and cried for what they had lost and what he was missing. He would never see his children grow up, or his grandchildren, he wouldn't grow old with her. Everything had stopped, and now they had to go on without him. It was all so very hard.

But the worst agony of all was Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Although she had expected it to be difficult, she had been in no way prepared for how hard it would hit her. It was like a wrecking ball to the chest that hit her in all ways. She missed the joys they had shared, the Christmases when the children were small, the laughter, the promise, the traditions. And then, as she reeled from the blow of her memories, she remembered the horror of their last Christmas morning, watching him lie dying on their office floor with no way to stop the nightmare that befell them. She walked around in a fog all day, crying all the time, and unable to stop, and the children were no better. It was one of the worst days in her life since he had died. And her mother was worried about her when she called. And even more so when she told her she was closing the office.

“I knew you'd have to do that,” her mother said the minute she told her. “Did you lose all your clients?” Nothing had changed in the past year since her dire predictions after the funeral.

“No, Mom, I have too many. I can't keep it up anymore, and I'm tired of it. I don't want to do family law. I'm going to represent children.”

“And who's going to pay?”

Liz smiled at the question. “The court, or their parents, or the agencies that hire me. Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.” Her mother spoke to all the children and told Liz they sounded depressed, which was no wonder. It was a rough Christmas for them all.

And her friend Victoria called her from Aspen. She surprised Liz by saying she had decided to go back into practice part-time, and she made Liz promise that in spite of that, they were going to see more of each other and Liz promised that they would. Victoria was worried about her and the children. She knew it was a brutal Christmas for them, and she was sorry she wasn't there to come over and visit.

But for the rest of the day, the phone was silent. And at the end of the day, Liz took them all to a movie. They were as sad as she was, and they needed some distraction. They went to see a comedy, and the kids laughed, but Liz didn't. She felt as though there were nothing left in her life to laugh at. It was all tragedy and loss, and people who had died or walked away. She soaked in a hot bath after they got home, and just lay there for a long time, thinking of how fast the year had gone and how much had been in it, and in spite of herself, she couldn't help wondering where Bill was. He was probably working. He had always said he hated holidays, that they were for people with families, and he had opted not to have one, after his taste of it at Thanksgiving, although she wasn't entirely sure she blamed him. But she thought he could at least have given it another chance. If he'd been brave enough, which he wasn't. She knew she had to face the fact now that he just didn't want it. He liked the life he had, and he was good at it. She lay in the tub thinking of how kind he'd been to Jamie. He was a terrific doctor, and a decent man.

She went to bed alone that night, just after midnight. Jamie was sleeping in his own room. He had slept in hers once since he got the cast, turned over in the middle of the night, and accidentally hit her with it, and she still had a bruise on her shoulder to show for it. After that, they'd agreed that it would be better if he slept in his own bed till he got the cast off.

“You okay, Mom?” Peter stuck his head in her room when he came upstairs right after she went to bed, and she told him she was, and thanked him for checking. They had stayed close to each other all day, like survivors in the water, clinging to a single life raft. It had been a Christmas they would always remember, not as bad as the last one, but nearly as painful in its own way. All she wanted to do now was go to sleep, and wake up when the holidays were over. But as usual now, sleep eluded her for hours, and she lay in bed, awake, thinking of Jack, and Bill, and her children. And finally, shortly after four o'clock, she drifted off, and thought she was dreaming when she heard the phone ring. She was in such a dead sleep as she reached out for it, that it took her a while to find it, but no one else in the house answered either.

“Hello?” Her voice was muffled by the sheets, and she sounded groggy, and the person who had called her hesitated for a long moment. She was about to hang up when he finally spoke. She didn't recognize the voice at first, and then she knew it. It was Bill, and she had no idea why he had called. He was probably working. It was still dark outside and she squinted at the clock. It was six-thirty in the morning.

“Hi there,” he sounded painfully cheerful, and she felt like a rodeo rider who had been bucked from here to Kentucky after the agonies of the day before. She was exhausted. “I thought I'd call and wish you Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Wasn't that yesterday?” Or was she in the Twilight Zone and it was never-ending. A lifetime of Christmases every day forever. It would have been her worst nightmare.

“Yeah. I must have missed it. I was pretty busy. How's Jamie?”

“Fine, I think. Asleep.” She stretched, and made an effort to wake up, wondering why he had called her. He seemed pretty chatty for six-thirty in the morning. “You were very nice to him when he broke his arm. Thank you.”

“He's a nice kid, and I like him.” There was a long silence then, and she started dozing, and then woke with a start, wondering if she'd said something stupid. But she hadn't missed much. Bill seemed to be thinking. Then he asked her, “How was Christmas?” But he could imagine it. He had thought about her all day, and worried about her and the children, which was why he had finally called. That, and a number of other reasons, some of them clearer than others.

“Worse than I expected,” she said honestly. “Like having open-heart surgery without an anesthetic.”

“I'm sorry, Liz. I thought it might be like that. At least it's over.”

“Till next year,” she said, sounding grim. She was awake now, and the memory of the day before still made her wince.

“Maybe next year will be better.”

“I'm not in any hurry to find out. It'll take me all year to get over this one. How about you? What did you do?”

“I was working.”

“I thought so. You must have been busy.”

“Very. But I thought about you a lot.”

She hesitated and then nodded, lying in the dark, thinking about him. “I thought about you too. I'm sorry things got so messed up. I don't know, I guess I wasn't ready, and the kids were awful.”

“And I panicked,” he admitted. “I didn't handle it very maturely.”

“I'm not sure I would have either,” she said graciously, but she would have come back to try and fix it, and he hadn't. But she didn't say that to him.

“I've missed you.” He sounded wistful. It had hit him hard when he saw her when Jamie broke his arm, and she had haunted him ever since, until he called.

“So have I. It's been a long month,” she said softly.

“Too long,” he admitted. “We should have lunch sometime.”

“I'd like that.” She wondered if he'd ever do it. Maybe he was just lonely and tired, or a patient had died, or Christmas had gotten to him. She didn't have the feeling he wanted to come back, just to touch her, and drift away again. In the end, she had decided, he was a loner, and happier that way.

“How about lunch today?” She was startled when he asked her.

“Today? Sure, I …” And then she remembered. “I promised to take the kids skating. How about coffee afterwards?”

“I was really thinking about lunch.” He sounded disappointed.

“What about tomorrow?”

“I'm working,” he said firmly. She smiled as she realized they were negotiating dates at six-forty-five in the morning. “What about now?” He sounded matter-of-fact as he asked.

“Now? You mean now, as in this minute?”

“Sure, I happen to have a bag lunch in my car, we could share it.”

“Where are you?” She was beginning to wonder if he was drunk. He sounded a little crazy to her.

“Actually,” he answered nonchalantly, “I'm in your driveway.” She got out of bed, as he said it, with the phone in her hand, and peeked out the window. His old Mercedes was sitting in her driveway with the lights off.

“What are you doing out there?” She was watching him, as she said it, and he glanced up and waved at her, as she giggled. “This is crazy.”

“I just thought I'd drop by and see if you wanted to have lunch or something. I didn't know if you were busy, or … well, you know, since I was such a jerk for the last month, I wasn't sure if I'd have to hang around to convince you. Liz,” his voice sounded emotional, as she stood at the window and looked down on him in his car, and he looked up at her, holding his car phone. “I love you.” She could see him say it.

“I love you too,” she said softly. “Why don't you come in?”

“I'll bring lunch.”

“Just bring you. I'll see you in a minute, don't ring the doorbell.” She hung up, and ran downstairs to open the door for him, and she saw him get out of his car and wrestle something large and cumbersome out of the backseat, and it took him a minute. And then as he came toward her, carrying it, she saw what it was. It was the kite he had made, and he brought it inside with him. “What are you doing with that?” The whole thing was utterly absurd. His call, his lunch invitation, his visit, his kite. But she loved him, and she knew it, as she looked at him. She had known it for months, she just hadn't been ready before.

“It's for Jamie,” he said simply, setting the kite down in her hallway, and then he stood looking down at her, with everything he felt for her in his eyes. He didn't even have to say it. “I love you, Liz. And Megan was right. I was a moron and a brute. I should have come back the next day, but I was too scared.”

“So was I. But I think I figured it out faster than you did. It's been a hell of a long month without you.”

“I had to figure out how much I missed you, but I'm back now. If you'll have me.”

“I'll have you,” she whispered, and then looked worried. “What about the kids, can you stand them?”

“Some easier than others. I'll get used to the rest, and if Megan gives me a hard time, I'll put a cast over her mouth. That should do it.” Liz laughed as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And they both jumped when they heard a loud voice just behind her.

“What's THAT?” It was Jamie, and he was pointing at the kite Bill had brought with him.

“It's your kite. I figured you had more time to use it than I do. I'll show you how to fly it.”

“Oh, boy!” He jumped right into Bill's arms, and nearly knocked his mother over. “Wow! Can I really have it!”

“You sure can.”

And then Jamie looked at him suspiciously. “What are you doing here? I thought you were mad at Mom, and Megan.”

“I was, but I'm better now.”

“Were you mad at me too?” Jamie asked with interest, holding the kite by the frame. He looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

“Never. I was never mad at you. And I'm not mad at anyone now.”

“Good. Can we have breakfast?” Jamie asked his mother.

“In a minute.” And as she said it, there were voices from upstairs and Megan shouted down.

“Who's down there?”

“I am,” Liz answered. “And Bill and Jamie.”

“Bill the doctor?” She sounded surprised, and Liz could hear other voices, Peter and Rachel and Annie. They had woken the whole house up.

“Bill, the Brute and Moron,” he corrected, and Megan came down the stairs slowly with a sheepish smile.

“I'm sorry.” She looked straight at Bill as she said it.

“Me too.” He smiled at her.

“Let's have breakfast,” Jamie said again.

“I'll make waffles,” Liz said and stopped to look up at Bill, as they exchanged a smile, and he kissed her again.

“You run a busy house,” he commented, as he followed her into the kitchen.

“Only sometimes. Come by for lunch anytime,” she said, taking out her waffle pan.

“I was thinking of staying,” Bill whispered to her.

“I like that idea,” she said softly, turning to him.

“So do I,” he said, as he picked jamie up and put him on his shoulders. “I like it a lot in fact.” And with that, he turned slowly toward the doorway and saw Megan smiling at him.

a cognizant original v5 release october 06 2010

Published by

Bantam Dell

a division of

Random House, Inc.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2000 by Danielle Steel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press, New York, N.Y

Dell® and its colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-307-56692-8

v3.0

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13