The Ranch [067-011-4.9]

By: Danielle Steel

Synopsis:

For the first time in paperback, Danielle Steel's 39th bestselling

novel, the sweeping contemporary story of three women--once

four--whose hopes and dreams come together one summer at a ranch

resort in Montana.

Dell Pub Co;

ISBN: 0440224780

Copyright 1998

In any other supermarket, the woman walking down the aisle, pushing a

cart between canned goods and gourmet spices, would have looked

strangely out of place.� She had impeccably groomed shoulder-length

brown hair, beautiful skin, huge brown eyes, a trim figure, perfectly

done nails, and she was wearing a navy linen suit that looked as though

she had bought it in Paris.� She wore high-heeled navy blue shoes, a

navy Chanel bag, and everything about her was perfection.� She could

have easily pretended she'd never seen a supermarket before, but she

looked surprisingly at home here.� In fact, she often stopped at

Gristede's at Madison and Seventyeeventh on the way home.� Most of the

shopping was done by their housekeeper, but in a funny old-fashioned

way, Mary Stuart Walker liked doing the shopping herself.� She liked

cooking for Bill at night when he came home, and they had never had a

cook, even when the children were younger.� Despite the impeccable way

she looked, she liked taking care of her family, and attending to every

minute detail herself.

Their apartment was at Seventy-eighth and Fifth, with a splendid view

of Central Park.� They had lived there for fifteen of the nearly

twenty-two years of their marriage.� sary Stuart kept an impressive

home.

The children teased herZometimes about how "perfect" everything always

was, how everything had to look and be just right, and it was easy to

believe that about her.� Just looking at her, it was easy to see that

she was somewhat compulsive about it.� Even at six o'clock, on a hot

June evening in New York, after six hours of meetings, Mary Stuart had

just put on fresh lipstick, and she didn't have a hair out of place.

She selected two small steaks, two baking potatoes, some fresh

asparagus, some fruit, and some yogurt, remembering too easily the days

when her shopping cart had been filled with treats for the children.

She always pretended to disapprove, but couldn't resist buying the

things they saw on TV and said they wanted.� It was a small thing in

life, spoiling them a little bit, indulging them bubble-gum flavored

cereal was so important to them, she never could see the point of

refusing to buy it for them and forcing them to eat a healthy one

they'd hate.

Like most people in their world in New York, she and Bill expected a

great deal from their children, a high standard for everything, near

perfect grades, impressive athletic ability, complete integrity, high

morals.� And as it turned out, Alyssa and Todd were good-looking,

bright and shining in every way, outstanding in and out of school, and

basically very decent people.� Bill had teased them ever since they

were young, and told them that he expected them to be the perfect kids,

he and their mother were counting on it in fact.� By the time they were

ten and twelve, Alyssa and Todd groaned whenever they heard the

words.

But there was more than a little truth to the speech, and they knew

it.

What their father really meant was that they had to do their absolute

best in and out of school, perform at the top of their ability, and

even if they didn't always succeed they had to try hard.� It was a lot

to expect of anyone, but Bill Walker had always set high standards, and

I they met them.� As rigid as their mother seemed to be sometimes, it

was their father who was thee real perfectionist, who expected it all

from them, and frotheir mother.� It was Bill who really put the

pressure on all of them, not just his children, but his wife as well.

Mary Stuart had been the perfect wife to him for nearly twenty-two

years, providing him with the perfect home, the perfect children,

looking beautiful, doing what was expected of her, entertaining for

him, and keeping a home that not only landed them on the pages of

Architectural Digest, but was a happy place to come home to.� There was

nothing showy or ostentatious about their way of life, it was all

beautifully done, meticulously handled.� You couldn't see the seams in

anything Mary Stuart did.� She made it all look effortless, although

most people realized it couldn't be as easy as she made it seem.� But

that was her gift to him.� Making it all seem easy.� For years, she had

organized charity events which raised hundreds of thousands of dollars

for important charities, sat on museum boards, and worked ceaselessly

assisting the cause of injured, diseased, or seriously underprivileged

children.� And now, at forty-four, with the children more or less

grown, in addition to the charity events she still organized, and the

committees she sat on for the past three years she'd been doing

volunteer work with physically and emotionally handicapped children in

a hospital in Harlem.

She sat on the board of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Lincoln

Center, and helped to organize assorted fundraising events each year,

because everyone wanted her to help them.� She kept extraordinarily

busy, particularly now, with no children to come home to, and Bill

constantly working late at the office.� He was one of the senior

partners in an international law firm on Wall Street.� He handled all

of their most important cases relating to Germany and England.� He was

a trial lawyer primarily, and the things Mary Stuart did socially had

always done a great deal to enhance his reputation.� She entertained

beautifully for him, and always had, although this year had been very

quiet.� He had spent much of the year traveling abroad, particularly

for the past several months, preparing a massive trial in London, which

had kept him away from home.� And Mary Stuart had been busier than ever

with her volunteer work.

Alyssa was spending her junior year at the S3>bonne.� So Mary Stuart

had more time to herself this year.� It had given her a chance to catch

up on a lot of things.� She took on some additional charity work, did a

lot of reading, and volunteered at the hospital on weekends.� Or

sometimes, on Sundays, she just indulged herself, and stayed in bed

with a book, or devoured all of the New York Times.� She had a full and

busy life, and to look at her, no one would ever have suspected there

was anything lacking.� She looked at least five or six years younger

than she was, although she had gotten thinner than usual that year,

which should have been aging, but somehow it wasn't, and it actually

made her seem even more youthful.� There was a gentleness about her

which people loved, and children responded to, particularly the ones

she worked with.� There was a genuine kindness which came from the soul

that transcended social distinctions, and made one unaware of the world

she came from.� One was simply aware of something very touching about

her, something almost wistful, it seemed, as one watched her, as though

she understood great sorrow and had endured great sadness, and yet

there was no sign of gloom about her.� Her life seemed so completely

perfect.� Her children had always been the smartest, the most

accomplished, the most beautiful.� Her husband was enormously

successful, both financially and in terms of the prestige he earned in

winning highly visible, landmark international cases.� He was highly

respected in business, as well as in their social world.

Mary Stuart had everything most people wanted, and yet as one looked at

her, one sensed that edge of sadness, it was a kind of compassion one

felt more than saw, a loneliness perhaps, which seemed odder.� How

could anyone with Mary Stuart's looks and style, accomplishments and

family, be lonely?

l When one sensed that about her, divining her wip the heart rather

than the eyes, it seemed strange and unlikely, and made one question

one's own intuitions about her.� There was no reason to suspect that

Mary Stuart Walker was lonely or sad, and yet if one looked hard enough

at her, one knew she was.� Behind the elegant facade, there was

something tragic about her.

"How ya doin' today, Mrs. Walker?"� The man at the checkout grinned at

her.� He liked her.� She was beautiful, and she was always polite to

him.

She asked about his family, his wife, his mother for years before she

died.� She used to come in with the kids, but now they were gone, so

she came in alone and always chatted with him.� It would have been hard

not to like her.

"I'm fine, Charlie, thank you."� She smiled at him, and looked even

younger.� She looked scarcely different than she had as a girl, and

when she came into the store in blue jeans on the weekends, sometimes

she looked just like her daughter.� "Hot today, isn't it?"� she said,

but she didn't look it.� She never did.� In winter, she looked

well-dressed despite the brutal cold and the layers everyone wore, the

boots against the snow and slush, the hats and the scarves and the

earmuffs. �And in summer, when everyone else looked frazzled in the

deadly heat, she looked calm and cool and unruffled.� She was just one

of those people.

She looked as though nothing ever went wrong, she never lost control,

and certainly never lost her temper.� He had seen her laugh with her

kids too.� The daughter was a real beauty.� The son was a good kid .

.

. they all were.� Charlie thought her husband was a little stiff, but

who's to say what makes some people happy?� They were a nice family.

He assumed the husband was in town again.� She had bought two baking

potatoes and two filet mignons.

"They say it's going to be even hotter tomorrow," he said as he bagged

her things and saw her glance at the Enquirer and then frown in

disapproval.� Tanya Thomas, the singing megastar, was on the cover.

The headline said TANYA HEADED FOR

ANOTHER DIVORCE.� AFFAIR WITH TRAINER BREAKS UP MARRIACE.� There were

terrible photographs of her, an inset of the musclebound trainer in a

T-shirt, and another of her current husband fleeing from the press,

hiding his face as he disappeared into a nightclub.� Charlie glanced at

the headlines and shrugged.� "That's Hollywood, they all sleep around

out there.� It's a wonder they even bother to get married."� Xe had

been married to the same woman for thirty-nine years,Znd for him the

vagaries of Hollywood were like tales from another planet.

"Don't believe everything you read," Mary Stuart said somewhat sternly,

and he looked at her and smiled.� Her gentle brown eyes looked

troubled.

"You're too nice about everyone, Mrs. Walker.� They're not the same

kind of people we are, believe me."� He knew, he had seen some movie

people come in regularly over the years, with different men and women

all the time, they were a pretty jazzy crowd.� They were a totally

different kind of human being from Mary Stuart Walker.� He was sure she

didn't even understand what he was saying.

"Don't believe what you read in the tabloids, Charlie," she said again,

sounding unusually firm, and with that she picked up her groceries with

a smile, and told him she'd see him tomorrow.

It was a short walk to the building where she lived, and even after six

o'clock it was still stifling.� She thought Bill would be home, as

usual, at around seven o'clock, and she would have dinner for him at

seven-thirty or eight, depending on how he was feeling.� She planned to

put the potatoes in the oven when she got home, and then she'd have

time to shower and change.� Despite the cool way she looked, she was

tired and hot after a long day of meetings.� The museum was planning an

enormous fund-raising drive in the fall, they were hoping to give a

huge ball in September, and they wanted her to be the chairman.� But so

far she had managed to decline, and was hoping only to advise them.

She wasn't in the mood to put together a ball, and lately she much

preferred her hands-on work, like what she did at the hospital with

handicapped children, or more recently with abused kids in Wrlem.

The doorman greeted her as she came in, took the groceries from her,

and handed them to the elevator man, and after thanking him, she rode

upstairs to their floor-through apartment in silence.� The building was

solid and old, and very handsome.� It was one of her favorites on Fifth

Avenue, and the view as she opened her front door was spectacular,

particularly in winter, when Central Park was blanketed with snow, and

the skyline across the park stood etched in sharp contrast.� It was

lovely in summer too, everything was lush and green, and from their

vantage point on the fourteenth floor, everything looked so pretty and

peaceful.� You could hear no noise from below, see none of the dirt,

sense none of the danger.� It was all pretty and green, and the final

late bloom of spring had exploded at last after the seemingly endless,

long, bleak winter.

Mary Stuart thanked the elevator man for helping her, locked the door

after he left, and walked the length of the apartment to the large,

clean white kitchen.� She liked open, functional, simple rooms like

this one to work in, and aside from three framed French prints, the

kitchen was completely pristine, with white walls, white floor, and

long expanses of white granite counters.� The room had been in

Architectural Digest five years before, with a photograph of Mary

Stuart sitting on a kitchen stool in white jeans and a white angora

sweater.� And despite the excellent meals Mary Stuart actually

prepared, it was hard to believe anyone really cooked there.

Their housekeeper was daily now, and there was no sound at all as Mary

Stuart put the groceries away, turned the oven on, and stood looking

for a long moment out the window at the park.� She could see the

playground a block away, in the park, and remembered the countless

hours she had spent there, freezing in winter when her children were

small, pushing them on the swings, watching them on the seesaw or just

playing with their friends.� It seemed a thousand years ago .� . . too

long .� . . how did it all fly by so quickly?� It seemed like only

yesterday when the children were at home, when they had dinner together

every night, with everyone talking at once about their activities,

their plans, their problems.� Even one of Alyssa and Todd's arguments

would have been a relief now, and so much more comforting than the

silence.� It would be a relief when Alyssa came home in the fall, for

her senior year at Yale after a year in Paris.� At least once she was

back, she'd come home occasionally for weekends.

Mary Stuart left the kitchen and walked to the small den, where she

often did her paperwork.� They kept thsanswering machine there, and she

flipped it on and heard Alvssa's voice instantly.� It made her smile

just to hear her.

"Hi, Mom .� . . sorry I missed you.� I just wanted to say hi, and see

how you are.� It's ten o'clock here, and I'm going out for a drink with

friends.� I'll be out late, so don't call me.� I'll call you this

weekend sometime.� I'll see you in a few weeks .� . . bye .� .."� And

then, almost as an afterthought, ". . . Oh .� . . I love you .� .."

There was a click then, when she hung up.� The machine recorded the

time, and Mary Stuart glanced at her watch, sorry to have missed her.

It had been four o'clock in New York when Alyssa had called her, two

and a half hours before.

Mary Stuart was looking forward to meeting her in Paris in three weeks,

and driving to the south of France, and then into Italy for a

vacation.

Mary Stuart planned to be there for two weeks, but Alyssa only wanted

to come home a few days before school began in September.� She wanted

to stay in Europe as long as she could, and was already saying that,

after graduation, she wanted to go back to live in Paris.� Mary Stuart

didn't even want to think about that now.� The last year, without her,

had been far too lonely.

"Mary Stuart .� .."� The next voice was her husband's.� "I won't be

home for dinner tonight.� I'll be in meetings until seven o'clock, and

I just found out I have to have dinner with clients.� I'll see you at

ten or eleven.� Sorry."� There was a click and he was gone, the

information imparted, clients more than likely waiting for him while he

called, and besides, Bill hated machines.� He said that he was

constitutionally unable to relate to them, and he would never have left

her a personal message on the recording.

She teased him about it at times.� She used to tease him about a lot of

things, but not so many lately.� It had been a hard year for them.� So

much had changed .� . . so many startling revelations and

disappointments .� . . so much heartbreak.� And yet, outwardly, they

all seemed so normal.

Mary Stuart wondered how that was possible sometimes.� How your heart

could break, shattered beyond repair, and yet you went on, making

coffee, buying sheets, turning down beds, and attending meetings.� You

got up, you showered, you dressed, you went to bed, but inside a part

of you had died.� In years past, she had wondered how other people

lived through it.� It had morbidly fascinated her at times.� But now

she knew.

You went on living.� You just did.� Your heart kept beating and refused

to let you die.� You kept walking, talking, breathing, but inside

everything was hurting.

"Hi," the next message said, "this is Tony Jones, and your VCR is

repaired.� You can pick it up any time you want.� Thanks, bye."� Two

messages about board meetings that had been changed.� A question about

the museum ball, and the committee being formed for it, and a call from

the head of volunteers at a shelter in Harlem.� She jotted down a few

notes, and remembered that she had to turn off the oven.� Bill wasn't't

coming home.� Again.� He did that a lot now.� He worked too hard.� That

was how he survived.� And in her own way, so did she, with her endless

merry-go-round of meetings and committees.

She turned off the oven, and decided to make herself eggs instead, but

not yet, and then walked into her bedroom.� The walls were a pale

buttery yellow, with a white glazed trim, the carpet an antdque

needlepoint she'd bought in England.� There were andque prints and

watercolors on the walls, a handsome marble fireplace, and on the

mantel silver-framed photographs of her children.� There were

comfortable overstuffed chairs on either side of it, and she and Bill

liked to sit by the fire and read at night, or on weekends.� They spent

most of their weekends in the city now, and had for the past year.

They had sold the house in Connecdeut the summer before.� With the

children gone, and Bill traveling constantly, they never went there.

"My life seems to be on a shrink cycle these days," Mary Stuart had

said jokingly to a friend, "with the kids gone, and Bill away, we seem

to be paring everything down.� Even our apartment is beginning to seem

too big for us."� But she would never have had the heart to sell it.

The children had grown up there.

As she walked into the bedroom, and set down her handbag, her eyes went

unwittingly toward the mantel.� It was still reassuring to see them

there, the children when they were four and five and ten and fifteen

.

. . the dog they had had when they were small, a big friendly chocolate

Lab named Mousse.� As always, she found herself drawn to them, and

stood staring at their pictures.� It was so easy to look at them, to

just stand there and remember.� It was like being drawn into another

time, and she so often wished she could go back to that earlier time,

when all their problems had been znple.� Todd's blond, cheery little

face looked out at her from when he was a little boy and she could hear

him calling her name again .� . . or see him chasing the dog .� . . or

falling into the swimming pool when he was three and she dived in after

him with all her clothes on.� She had saved him then.� She had always

been there for him, and for Alyssa.� There was a photograph of all of

them three Christmases before, laughing, their arms around each other,

horsing around while an exasperated photographer had begged them to be

serious for a moment so he could take their picture.

Todd had insisted on singing outrageous songs to them, while Alyssa

laughed hysterically, and even she and Bill couldn't stop laughing.� It

had felt good to be so silly.� It always felt good to be with them.� It

made the sound of Alyssa's voice on the machine that night even more

poignant.� And then, as she always did, Mary Stuart turned away from

the photo l graphs, the little faces that both caressed and tormented

her, that tore at her heart and soothed it.� There was a catch in her

throat as she went to her bathroom and washed her face, and then looked

sternly at herself in the mirror.

"Stop that!"� She nodded in answer.� She knew better than to let

herself do that.� Self-indulgence was a luxury she could no longer

afford.� All she could do now was move forward.� But she had moved to

an unfamiliar land with a landscape she didn't like.� It was bleak and

unpopulated, and at times unbearably lonely.� At times, she felt as

though she had come there by herself, except that she knew Bill was

there too, lost in the desert somewhere, in his own private hell.� She

had been searching for him there for over a year, but as yet she hadn't

found him.

She thought about making herself dinner then, but decided she wasn't

hungry, and after taking off her suit, and changing into a pink T-shirt

and jeans, she went back to the den, sat down at the desk, and looked

over some papers.� It was still light outside at seven o'clock, and she

decided to call Bill and tell him she'd gotten his message on the

machine.� They had very little to say to each other these days, except

about his work, or her meetings, but she called him anyway.� It was

better than letting go completely.� No matter how lost they had been

for the past year, Mary Stuart was not ready to let go yet.� And she

knew she probably never would be.� Giving up wasn't something that fit

into her scheme of things, it wasn't something she believed in.� They

owed each other more than that after all these years.� When times got

rough, you did not abandon the ship.� In Mary Stuart's life, you went

down with it if you had to.

She dialed his number and heard it ring, and then finally a secretary

answered.� No, Mr. Walker wasn't available.� He was still in

meetings.

She would tell him Mrs.� Walker had called him.

"Thank you," Mary Stuart said softly, and hung up, swiveling slowly in

the chair to look out at the park again.� If she let herself, she would

see couples strolling there in the warm June air at sunset, but she

didn't want to.� She had nothing to say to them now, nothing to learn

from them.� All they brought her now was pain, and the memories of what

she and Bill once shared.� Perhaps they would again.

Perhaps .� . . she let herself think the word, but not the inevitable

conclusion if they didn't.� That was unthinkable, and prodding herself

again, she went back to her papers.� She worked for another hour, as

the sun went down, making committee lists, and suggestions for the

group she'd met with that afternoon, and when she glanced outside

again, it was almost dark, and the velvet night seemed to engulf her.

It was so quiet in the apartment, so empty in a way that it almost made

her want to call out, or reach for someone.� But there was no one

there.� She closed her eyes and lay her head back against the chair,

and then as though Providence had been listening to her, and still gave

a damn, although she doubted that, the phone rang.

"Hello?"� She sounded surprised and very young, she had been pulled

back a long way from her own thoughts, and in the twilit room, with her

hair a little ruffled, she looked incredibly pretty as she answered.

"Mary Stuart?"� The voice was a soft drawl, and it made her smile at

once just to hear her.� It was a voice she had known for twenty-six

years now.� She hadn't heard from her for months, but somehow she was

always there when she needed her, as though she knew.� They shared the

powerful bond of ancient friendship.� "Is that you?� You sounded like

Alyssa for a minute."� The voice on the other end was feminine, deeply

sensual, and still had faint whispers of Texas in it.

"No, it's me.� She's still in Paris."� Mary Stuart syShed as she felt a

strong hand reach out and pull her back to swpre.� It was amazing how

she was always there at odd moments.� She often did that.� They were

there for each other, and always had been.� And as she thought about

it, Mary Stuart remembered what she had seen at Gristede's.� "Are you

okay?� I was reading about you this afternoon."� Mary Stuart frowned,

thinking about the headline.

"Pretty, isn't it?� It's particularly nice, since my current trainer is

a woman.� I fired the guy on the cover of the Enquirer last year.� He

called today, threatening to sue me, because his wife is furious about

the piece.� He's got a lot to learn about the tabloids."� Tanya herself

had learned it all the hard way.� "And to answer your quesdon, yeah,

I'm okay.� Sort of."� She had a soft purr that drove most men crazy,

and Mary Stuart smiled when she heard her.� It was like a breath of

fresh air in a stifling room.� She had felt that way about her the

first day she met her.� They had gone to college together twentyTix

years before, in Berkeley.� Those had been crazy days, and they'd all

been so young.� There were four of them then.� Mary Stuart, Tanya,

Eleanor, and Zoe.� They were suite mates in the dorm for the first two

years, and then they'd rented a house on Euclid.

They'd been inseparable for four years, they had been like sisters.

Ellie had died in their senior year, and after that things changed.

After graduation they all grew up and moved on to their lives.� Tanya

had married right away, two days after graduation.� She married her

childhood sweetheart from her hometown in East Texas.� They were

married in the chapel, and it had lasted all of two years.� Within a

year of graduation, her meteoric career had taken off and blown her

life to bits, and her marriage along with it.� Bobby Joe managed to hang

ron for another year, but it was too much for him.� He was way out of

his element, and he knew it.� It had been frightening enough for him to

have a wife who was educated and talented, but a superstar was more

than he could deal with.

He tried, he wanted to be fair, but what he really wanted was for her

to give it all up and stay in Texas with him.� He didn't want to leave

home, didn't want to give up his daddy's business, they were

contractors and they were doing well, and he knew what he could handle

and what he couldn't.� And to his credit, tabloids, agents, concerts,

shrieking fans, and multimillion dollar contracts were not what he

wanted, and they were Tanya's whole life.� She loved Bobby Joe, but she

wasn't about to give up a career that was everything she'd ever dreamed

of.� They got separated on their second anniversary, and were divorced

by Christmas.� It took him a long time to get over her, but he had

since remarried and had six kids, and Tanya had seen him once or twice

over the years.� She said he was fat and bald and as nice as ever.� She

always said it a little wistfully, and Mary Stuart knew that Tanya was

always aware of the price she had paid, the dues that life had

collected from her in exchange for her wild success, her fantastic

career.� Twenty years after she'd begun, she was still the number one

female singer in the country.

She and Mary Stuart had stayed good friends.� Mary Stuart had married

the summer after graduation too.� But Zoe had gone on to medical

school.

She had always been the rebel in their midst, the one who burned for

all the most revolutionary causes.� The others used to tease her that

she had come to Berkeley ten years too late, but it was she who always

rallied them, who demanded that everything be fair and right, she who

fought for the underdog in every situation.... It was she who had found

Ellie when she died, who had cried so desperately, and had had the guts

to call Ellie's aunt and uncle.� It had been a terrible time for all of

them.

Ellie had been closest to Mary Stuart, and she had been a wonderful,

gentle girl, full of idealistic ideas and dreams.� Her parents had been

killed in an accident junior year, and her three roommates had become

family to her.� Mary Stuart wondered at times if she would ever have

been able to cope with the pressures of the outside world.� She was so

delicate as to be almost unreal, and unlike the others, with their

life's goals and their plans, she had been completely unrealistic, a

total dreamer.� She died three weeks before graduation.� Tanya almost

delayed her wedding over it, but they all agreed Ellie would have

wanted it to go on and Tanya said that Bobby Joe would have killed her

if she'd postponed it.� Mary Stuart had been Tanya's maid of honor, and

Zoe was her only bridesmaid.

Tanya would have been in Mary Stuart's wedding too, except that she

was giving her first concert in Japan at the time.� And Zoe hadn't been

able to leave school. �Mary Stuart was married at her parents' home in

Greenwich.

The second time Tanya got married, Mary Stuart had seen it on the

news.

Tanya was twenty-nine, married her manager, and had a quiet ceremony in

Las Vegas, followed by tabloids, helicopters, TV cameras, and every

member of the press that could be deployed within a thousand miles of

Vegas.

Mary Stuart had never liked Tanya's new husband.� Tanya said she wanted

kids this time, they were going to buy a house in Santa Barbara, or

Pasadena, and have a "real life."� She had the right idea, but this

time her husband didn't.� He had two things on his mind, Tanya's

career, and her money.� And he did everything he could to push the one

in order to obtain the other.� Professionally, Tanya always said, he

did a lot of good things for her.� He made changes she could never have

made on her own, set up concerts around the world for her, got her

record contracts that broke all records, and pushed her from superstar

to legend.� After that, she could ask for just about anything she

wanted.� In the five years they were married, she had three platinum

records, and five gold ones, and won every Grammy and musical award she

could lay her hands on.

And in spite of the small fortune he took from her in the end, her

future was assured, her mom was living in a five-million-dollar house

in Houston, and she had bought her sister and brotherin-law an estate

near Armstrong.

She herself had one of the prettiest houses in Bel Air, and a

ten-million-dollar beach house in Malibu she never went to.� Her

husband had wanted her to buy it.� She had money and fame, but no

kids.

And after the divorce, she thought she needed a change, and started

acting.� She made two movies the first year, and won an Academy Award

the second.� At thirty-five, Tanya Thomas had anything and everything

that most people thought she might have dreamed of.� What she had never

had was the life she would have shared with Bobby Joe, affection, love,

and support, someone to be with her, and care about her, and

children.

And it was another six years before she married her third husband, Tony

Goldman.� He was a real estate developer in the Los Angeles area, and

had gone out with half a dozen starlets.� There was no doubt that he

was impressed with Tanya's career, but even Mary Stuart, always

fiercely defensive on her friend's behalf, had to admit that he was a

decent guy and obviously cared deeply about her.� What worried Tanya's

friends, and they were numerous by then, was whether or not Tony could

keep his head in the heat of Tanya's life, or would it all be too much

for him, and he'd go crazy.

From all Mary Stuart had heard in the past three years, she had the

impression that things had gone well, and she knew better than anyone,

after being close to Tanya for the twenty years of her career, that

what she read in the tabloids meant nothing.

The big draw Tony had had for her, Mary Stuart knew, was that Tony was

divorced and had three children.� They had been nine, eleven, and

fourteen the day of the wedding, and Tanya loved them dearly.� The

oldest and youngest were boys and were crazy about her, and the little

girl was completely bowled over by her and couldn't believe that Tanya

Thomas was marrying her father.� She bragged about it to everyone, and

even started trying to look and dress like Tanya, which on an

elevenyear-old was less than appropriate, andXanya used to take her

shopping and buy her things constantly to tone it down, but still make

her feel pretqT.� She was great with the kids, and kept talking about

having a C H A baby.� But having married Tony at fortyone, she was

hesitant about getting pregnant.� She was afraid she was too old, and

Tony was not keen on having more children, so Tanya never pushed it.

She had enough on her plate without negotiating with Tony about having

a baby.� She had two concert tours back-to-back in the first two years

of their marriage, the tabloids were going crazy with her, and she had

been battling a couple of lawsuits.� It was hardly an atmosphere

conducive to sanity, let alone conception.� It was easier to just take

on Tony's kids, and she had, wholeheartedly.� He even said that she was

a better mother to them than his first wife.� But Mary Stuart had

noticed that in spite of Tony's easy, friendly ways, Tanya always

seemed to be handling everything herself, managers, lawyers, concert

tours, death threats, facing all the agonies and worries alone, while

Tony closed his own business deals, or went to Palm Springs to play

golf with his buddies.� He seemed less involved in her life than Mary

Stuart had hoped he would be.� She knew better than anyone how rough

Tanya's life was, how lonely, how hard she worked, how brutal the

demands of the fans, how painful the betrayals.� Oddly enough, Tanya

rarely complained, and Mary Stuart always admired her for it.� But it

annoyed her when she saw Tony waving to the cameras as they went to the

Oscars or the Grammys.� He always seemed to be around for the good

times, and none of this hard stuff.� Mary Stuart thought of that now,

as Tanya mentioned the trainer's wife who had called threatening her,

over the headlines in the tabloids.� Tanya had learned better than

anyone over the years that there was nothing anyone could do to fight

the tabloids.

"Actually, Tony wasn't too thrilled either," Tanya said very quietly.

The tone of her voice concerned Mary Stuart.� She sounded tired and

lonely.� She had been fighting all the same battles for a long time,

and they were very wearing.� "Every time the tabloids claim I'm having

an affair, he goes crazy.� He says I'm embarrassing him with his

friends, and he doesn't like it.� I can see his point."� She sighed,

but there was nothing she could do about it.� There was no way to stop

them.� And the press loved to torment her, with her splendid blond

mane, her huge blue eyes, and her spectacular figure.� It was hard for

any of them to believe that she was just a regular woman, and would

have rather drunk Dr Pepper than champagne.� But that bit of news

wouldn't have sold their papers.

Tanya had always worn her hair blond, and constant, careful cosmetic

repair kept her looking sinfully young.� She was claiming to be

thirty-six now, and had successfully shed the additional eight years

that she and Mary Stuart had in common.� But no one would have

suspected from looking at her that she was lying.� "I don't exactly

love it myself when they claim I'm having an affair, but the people

they talk about are usually so ridiculous, it doesn't bother me most of

the time .� . . except for Tony."� And the kids.

It was embarrassing for all of them, but there was nothing she could do

to stop it.� "I think they just run off a list of possibles on a

computer somewhere, and throw you together with anyone they feel

like."

Tanya shrugged, and put her feet up on the coffee table in front of

her, as she narrowed her eyes and thought of Mary Stuart.� She hadn't

talked to her in months.� They were the two closest of the old group.

Tanya knew that Mary Stuart no longer talked to Zoe, and hadn't for

years, and even she had all but lost track of Zoe.� She called her

every year or two, and they still exchanged Christmas cards, but Zoe's

life seemed so separate from theirs.� She was an internist in San

Francisco.

She had never married, never had kids.� She was completely devoted to

her work, and gave every spare moment of her time to free clinics.� It

was the kind of work she had always believed in.� Tanya hadn't even

seen her in the last five years, since the last concert she'd done in

San Francisco.

"What about you?"� Tanya suddenly asked Mary Stuart pointedly.� "How

are you doing?"� There was an edge to her voice, a pointed end she used

to probe into her old friend's soul, but Mary Stuart saw her coming and

silently dodged her.

"I'm fine.� Doing all the same things, committee work, board meetings,

volunteer work in Harlem.� I just spent the whole day at the

Metropolitan talking about a big fund-raising event they're planning

for September."

Her voice was even and controlled and cool, but Tanya knew her far

better than that, and Mary Stuart knew it.� She could fool a lot of

people, even Bill at times, but never Tanya.

"That's not what I meant."� There was a long silence while neither

woman was sure what to say, and Tanya waited for what Mary Stuart would

answer.� "How are you, Mary Stuart?� Really?"

Mary Stuart sighed, and looked out the window.� It was dark now.� And

she was alone in the silent apartment.� She had been alone for all

intents and purposes for over a year.� "I'm okay."� Her voice trembled,

but only slightly.� It was better than when Tanya had seen her a year

before, on a disastrous rainy day when Mary Stuart wished that her own

life had ended.� "I'm getting used to it."� But so much had changed.

So much more than she had expected.

"And Bill?"

"He's fine too, I guess.� I never see him."

"That doesn't sound so fine to me."� There was another long pause, but

they were used to it, Tanya was thinking.� "What about Alyssa?"

"She's fine, I think.� She loves Paris.� I'm meeting her there in a few

weeks.� We're going to spend a month running around Europe.� Bili has a

big case in England, and he's going to be over there for the summer, so

I thought I'd go over and see her."� She sounded happier as she spoke

of it, and Tanya smiled.� Alyssa Walker was one of Tanya's favorite

people.

"Will you be in England with him?"� Tanya asked in her soft drawl, and

Mary Stuart hesitated and then answered quickly.

"No, I'll be here.� He's really too busy to pay any attention to me

during a case like that, and I have so much to do here."� So much to do

here.� She knew all the right things to say, all the cover-ups, the

language of despair.... We'll have to get together sometime .� . . no,

things are fine .� . . everything is just terrific .� . . Bill is so

incredibly busy with work right now .� . . he's on a trip .� . . I have

a meeting .� . . have to see my board .� . . have to go downtown .� .

.

uptown .� . . to Europe to see my daughter .� . . The politics of

hiding, the correct thing to say in order to buy solitude and silence,

and a place to grieve in peace away from prying eyes and pity.� A way

of pushing people away without saying how bad it really was.

"You're not okay, Mary Stuart."� Tanya went after her with the

single-mindedness she was known for.� She would leave no stone unturned

until she found the truth, the answer, the culprit.� It was that

determination for the pursuit of truth that she and Zoe had had in

common.� But Tanya had always been far subtler about it, and far kinder

when she discovered whatever it was she wanted.� "Why won't you tell me

the truth, Stu?"

"I am telling you the truth, Tan," Mary Stuart insisted .� . . Stu .

.

. Tan .� . . Tannie .� . . the names of so long ago .� . . the promises

.

. . the hope .� . . the beginning.� It always felt so much like the end

now, when everything winds down and you begin to lose it all, instead

of find it.� Mary Stuart hated that about her life now.� "We're fine,

honest."

"You're lying, but I'm not sure I blame you.� You're entitled."� That

was the difference between Zoe and Tanya.� Zoe would never have let her

lie, let her hide.� She would have felt an obligation to expose her, to

shine a bright light on her pain, thinking she could heal it.� At least

Tanya understood that she couldn't.� She had her own worries now.� The

tabloids weren't right about the affair, but they weren't far off the

mark that she and Tony were having problems.� Despite the fact that he

had thought it was fun for a while, he was no longer enjoying the

spotlight placed on them by the press, or the lies, the threats, the

stalkers, the lawsuits, the people constantly trying to take advantage

of her, and either embarrass or use her, whatever it cost them.� It was

utterly exhausting, and impossible to have any kind of decent private

life.� How could you even find the real woman amidst all the

nonsense?

Lately, Tony had complained about it constantly, and she sympathized

with him, but other than retire, which she didn't want to do, and he

didn't expect it of her, there was really nothing she could do to

change it.� All they could do was get away from time to time, and that

helped, but a trip to Hawaii, or even Africa, or the south of France,

did nothing to solve the problems.� It provided a brief, pleasurable

escape, but no real solution.

As insane as it sounded even to him, despite her phenomenal success,

her vast fame, and millions of adoring fans, in fact the very life she

led made her a victim.� And little by little, Tony had come to hate

it.� For the moment, all she could do was promise him to keep as low a

profile as she could.� She hadn't even gone to Texas to see her mother

the week before, as planned, because she was afraid that if she left

town, she'd fuel the rumors.� Lately, he said constantly that it was

all getting to be too hard on him, and on his kids, and just the way he

said it, made Tanya feel panicked.� Particularly since she knew there

was nothing she could do to change the situation.� Their torments all

came from outside sources.

"I'm coming to New York next week, that's why I called," Tanya

explained.� "I figured in your busy life I'd better make a date with

you, or you'd be having dinner with the governor and hitting him up for

money for one of your causes."� Over the years, Tanya had been

incredibly generous with the groups Mary Stuart cared about most, and

twice she had donated her time and given a performance, but not in a

while.� Lately, she was just too busy.� She never seemed to have a

moment for herself now.� And her current agent and manager were tougher

than the ones she'd had before, who had cut her a little slack, but the

new ones were pushing her to do more concerts.� There were fortunes to

be made, from albums made from the concerts, licensing deals for dolls

and perfume and cutting new CD's and tapes and Tanya was hotter than

she ever had been.

They wanted her to capitalize on it, but at the moment she was leaning

more toward making another movie.� "I'm doing a TV show in New York,"

she told Mary Stuart, "but actually I'm talking to some agent about

writing a book.� I got a call from a publisher, and I don't think I'm

interested, but I'll listen to them.� What's left to say about me?"

There had already been four unauthorized biographies about her, all of

them cruel, and mostly inaccurate, but she was generally goodnatured

about them.� After the first one, which had come as a terrible blow,

she had called Mary Stuart in the middle of the night in hysterics.

They had been there for each other a lot over the years, and by now

they both felt certain that they always would be.� It was the kind of

friendship you don't repro duce in later life.� It begins, it grows,

you nurture it from sapling to oak tree.� Later on, the roots don't

form the same way.� Theirs had taken hold long since, and were there,

buried in solid ground, for the duration.

"When are you coming in?� I'll meet you at the airport," Mary Stuart

offered.

"I'll pick you up on the way into town, and we can go to the hotel and

talk.� I'll be in on Tuesday."� Tanya was flying in on the recording

company's plane, as she always did.� It was just like hopping in a car

for her, and the casual way she flew around always amused Mary

Stuart.

"I'll call you from the plane."

"I'll be here," Mary Stuart said, feeling suddenly like a kid.� There

was something about the way Tanya swept her up and took her under her

wing that made her feel young again, instead of a thousand years old.

She grinned at the thought of seeing her again, it had been ages since

the last time, she couldn't even remember when, although Tanya could,

distinctly.

"See you, kiddo," Tanya said, smiling at her end.� And then, sounding

more serious, and as gentle as Mary Stuart always remembered, "I love

you."

"I know."� She nodded as tears sprang to her eyes.� It was kindness

which Mary Stuart could no longer tolerate.� The loneliness was so much

easier to deal with.� "I love you too," she said, choking on her own

words, and then, ". . . I'm sorry...."� She closed her eyes, fighting

back the waves of her own emotions.

"Don't be, baby .� . . it's okay .� . . I know .� . . I know."� But the

truth was she didn't.� No one knew.� No one could possibly understand

what she felt now.� Not even her husband.

"I'll see you next week," Mary Stuart said, sounding composed again,

but Tanya wasn't fooled.� There was a flood of agony held behind the

dam that Mary Stuart had built to keep her grief in check, and Tanya

couldn't help wondering how long she could stand it.

"See you Tuesday.� Just wear jeans.� We'll go have a hamburger, or

order room service or something.� See ya .� .."� And then she was

gone, and Mary Stuart was thinking of her, and the days in Berkeley,

before they had all moved on to their lives, before life had gotten so

full, and so hard, and they had all had their dues to pay.� It had all

been so easy then .� . . at first.� Until Ellie had died, just before

graduation.� That had been their entry into the real world, and as she

thought of it, she glanced at a photograph on her night table, of the

four of them in freshman year.� They looked like children to her now,

even younger than her own daughter.� She saw Tanya with her long blond

mane, looking sexy and sensational, and Zoe with long red pigtails, so

earnest and intense, and Ellie so ethereal with a little halo of blond

curls, and Mary Stuart herself, all eyes and legs and long dark hair,

looking straight into the camera.� It seemed a hundred years ago, and

it was.� She thought about them for a long time, and eventually she

fell asleep on her bed, in her jeans and her pink T-shirt.� And when

Bill came in at eleven o'clock, he found her there.� He stood looking

at her for a long time, and then turned off the light.� He never spoke

to her and never touched her, and she slept in her jeans all night.

And when she woke the next morning, he had already gone back to the

office.� He nd simply passed through her life once again, like the

stranger he was now.

When Tanya Thomas woke up in her Bel Air bedroom the next day, Tony was

already in the shower.� They shared a single bedroom, and two huge,

separate dressing rooms, each with their own separate bathroom.� The

bedroom was large and airy, decorated in French antiques, with enormous

pink silk curtains, and miles of pink floral fabrics. �Her dressing

room and bath were pink marble, and the fabrics were pale pink silk

there too.� And Tony's bathroom was done entirely in black marble and

granite.

Black towels, black silk drapes, it was the consummate male bathroom.

She had bought the house years before, and had it all redone to suit

Tony when they got married.� Although he was extremely successful too,

she knew he loved showing off her success.� In spite of all the

headaches associated with it, he loved letting people know that he was

married to Tanya Thomas.� The Hollywood scene had always appealed to

him, and after years on the fringe, being catapulted into the very

heart of it had always seemed like an extraordinary bonus.� He loved

going to Hollywood parties, and chatting with the stars, and he liked

going to the Academy Awards and the Golden Globes, and especially

Barbara Davis's gala events, far more than Tanya did.� After eighteen

hours of work, she was happier staying home at night, sinking into a

warm tub, and listening to someone else's music.

She put a pink satin robe over her lace nightgown while he was still

getting dressed, and she went downstairs to make him something for

breakfast.� There were other people in the house who could have done as

much for him, but Tanya liked doing it, and she knew it meant a lot to

Tony.� She cooked for his kids whenever she could too, and she was a

good cook.� She cooked a good steak, and had introduced them all to

grits, and took a lot of teasing for it, but they loved them.� She

liked making pasta for him too.� There were a lot of things she liked

doing for Tony.

She liked making love to him, and being alone with him, and going on

trips with him, and discovering new places, but there was never enough

time, there were always rehearsals, and recording sessions, movies, and

concerts, benefits, and countless hours spent poring over documents and

contracts with her attorneys.� Tanya was more than a singer or an

actress now, she was an empire, an industry unto itself, and she had

learned a lot about the business, the hard way.

She poured orange juice while she waited for him, and broke eggs into a

frying pan as the butter began to sizzle.� And as she dropped the toast

into the toaster, and started the coffee for him, she opened the

morning paper.� Her heart sank as she read the second lead item.� It

was about a former employee suing her, allegedly for sexual

harassment.

It was the first she had heard of it, and as she read the article, she

recognized the name of a bodyguard they'd had for two weeks the year

before, and had fired for stealing.� He had given a lengthy interview,

claiming that she had tried to seduce him, and when he refused her, she

fired him without reason or explanation.� Tanya knew as she read the

piece, with a sickening feeling, that like all the other lawsuits in

which she'd been involved, in the end they'd wind up paying him offjust

to settle it, and unload him.� There never seemed to be any way to

defend herself anymore, to prove to anyone that she was innocent, that

it was all lies, and that it was a form of blackmail.� She knew that

her husband knew that too, and he was always the first one to tell her

to settle, no matter how outrageous the claim, or the attack.� It was

just simpler that way.� But she also knew that Tony would be livid when

he saw the paper.� She folded it carefully and put it away, and a

moment later, he walked into the kitchen wearing his golf clothes.

"Aren't you going to work today?"� she asked conversationally, trying

to look relaxed as she sliced an avocado, and put the finishing touches

on his breakfast.

"Where have you been for the last three years?"� He looked startled by

her question.� "I always play golf on Fridays."� He was a good-looking

man with dark hair, and a powerful build, in his late forties.� He

played a lot of tennis and golf, and worked out in a gym he had built

at the opposite end of the house, with his personal trainer, not the

one who had recently appeared in the tabloids.� "Where's the paper?"

he asked as he sat down and looked around.� He read the Los Angeles

Times and the Wall Street Journal every morning.� He was an outstanding

businessman, and had made a fortune in real estate development in the

years when it really counted.� But his money was of no interest to

Tanya.� It was his kindness which had originally appealed to her, his

decency, his kids, and his family values.� As far as she was concerned,

he was just a regular guy going to work every day, and playing ball

with his sons on the weekend.� And she particularly liked the fact that

he wasn't in "the business."� What she hadn't figured on originally was

that he liked all of the Hollywood trappings a lot more than she did.

He liked all of it, but he didn't like paying his dues for the

lifestyle.� He liked the glitter but not the price you had to pay to be

there.� And Tanya knew you couldn't have one without the other.� In

fact, Tony complained constantly about the aggravations they had to

endure, and the infuriating stories in the tabloids.

"You can't have it both ways," she had explained to him early on.� "You

can't have the glory without the pain," she'd said softly, and offered

to retire the first time after they were married that the tabloids made

ugly accusations about her, and talked about all her old boyfriends.

But he insisted that he didn't want her to retire.� He thought she

would be bored.� She had suggested they give it all up and have a

baby.

But he liked what she did, and so did she, so she kept doing it, and

they kept rallying from the attacks, and the death threats, and the

lawsuits.� She still refused to have a bodyguard full-time, and only

hired one when she went to an event wearing a lot of borrowed

jewelry.

"So where's the paper?"� he asked again, digging into his eggs, and

glancing up at her, and he saw immediately in Tanya's eyes that

something had happened.� "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said vaguely, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Come on, Tanya," he said, looking annoyed.� "It's written all over

your face.� You won't win the Oscar for this one."� She smiled ruefully

at him and shrugged.� He'd find out anyway.� She just hadn't wanted it

to be over breakfast.� Without saying another word, she handed the

paper to him, and watched as she saw him read the story.� She could see

the muscles work in his jaw and neck, but he didn't say a word until he

finished it, and put down the paper.� And then he looked up at her with

a grim expression.

"That's going to cost you.� I hear sexual harassment suits are really

paying big now."� He said it unemotionally, but it was easy to see that

he was very angry.� "What did you say to him?"� His eyes bore into hers

as he asked her, and Tanya looked at her husband in amazement.

"What did I say to him?� Are you crazy?� Do you think I said anything

to him?� I told him where the studio was and what time I had to be at

rehearsal.� That's what I said to him.� How can you even ask me?"

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him, and Tony seemed

uncomfortable as he took a sip of coffee.

"I just wondered if you said anything he could build this on, that's

all.� I mean, hell, the guy certainly tells quite a story."

"So does everyone," she said sadly, her eyes never leaving Tony's.

"It's no different than anything else.� It's just plain greed and

envy.

He saw money, and he wants it.� He figures he can embarrass me into

paying him to shut up."� She'd been through it before, not just with

discrimination suits, but with unlawful terminations, real estate

claims, accident claims from previous employees.� Everyone hoped that

by suing her they would get a piece of the action.� It was old news in

Hollywood, and other places these days, but it still wasn't pretty when

it happened.� And although he understood the reasons for it, Tony had

never gotten used to it, and he didn't like it.� He said it was hard on

his kids and his family, it made him an object of ridicule and even

gave his ex-wife something to complain about.� He just didn't need

it.

Tanya knew only too well how Tony reacted to these stories.� First he

pretended they didn't bother him, then he got increasingly more

disagreeable as the plot unfolded, and eventually he put as much

pressure on her as the lawyers did to just get out of it, and settle.

But through it all he acted like the injured party.� And eventually,

after he had made her pay for it for a while, he decided to forgive

her.� It was becoming an old familiar story, and she didn't enjoy it.

"Are you going to pay him off?"� Tony asked, looking anxious.

"I haven't even talked to my lawyer yet," she said, looking annoyed.

"I just read it in the paper this morning, like you did."

"If you'd handled it right a year ago, when you fired him, this would

never have happened," he said, putting a jacket on and looking at her

from the doorway.

"That's not true, and you know it.� We've been through this before.� It

just goes with the territory, no matter what you do."� She had always

been so careful, and so circumspect, but no one ever gave her credit

for it.� She had never been promiscuous, behaved badly, used drugs,

treated her employees badly, or got drunk in public.

But no matter what you did, or didn't do, in her kind of life, people

made outrageous claims, and in most cases, the public believed them.

And sometimes so did Tony.

"I'm not sure I know what you do anymore," he said, looking angry.� He

hated the embarrassment he said she caused him.� And then he turned on

his heel and left.� And a minute later she heard his car speeding down

the driveway.

She dialed her attorney, Bennett Pearson, almost as soon as Tony had

left, and her attorney apologized.� They had received the papers late

the day before, and hadn't had time to call her and warn her.

"It sure made a nice surprise this way, over breakfast," she said,

sounding very Texas.� "Next time, it might be nice to have a little

warning.� You know, Tony is not exactly crazy about these things."

Last week the trainer in the Enquirer, now the bodyguard.� On top of

being a target for lawsuits and blackmail of varying degrees, she was

also a sex symbol, and the papers loved honing in on anything they

could about her.

There were tears in her eyes when she hung up from the lawyers.� The

bodyguard was insisting that she had propositioned him, embarrassed

him, and that he had suffered emotional distresst over it.� And he had

some quack psychiatrist who was willing to testify for.� him.

According to her attorneys, the claim wasn't particularly unusual, but

Tanya remembered that the guy was a real sleaze and would probably

really stick it to her.� In earlier days, she would probably have sat

and cried over it.� But after over twenty years, it was all too

familiar, and she knew why it happened.� She was successful and

powerful, and had managed to stay on top of her career with hard work

and an incredible amount of determination, and people were willing to

line up ten deep to try and take it from her.� In Hollywood, like

anywhere else, there were armies of frustrated people who were only too

happy to take what they could from anyone else.� It was an unusual work

ethic certainly, but it was by no means unheard of.

She had asked her attorney what he wanted her to do about the case, and

he told her to just forget it.� He would handle everything, and he was

sure that after the initial public blast, the gentleman in question was

going to be anxious to settle.� He was sure that that had been his

intent anyway, and warned her that settlements in harassment suits

these days were easily up in the millions.

"Great.� What would you.� like me to do?� Why don't I just give him the

house in Malibu?� Ask him how he feels about the sun, or maybe he'd

rather have the house in Bel Air, but it's a little smaller."� It was

impossible not to be cynical, harder still not to be angry, or to feel

abused, or betrayed, by people who were willing to hurt you or use you,

although they never even knew you.� In some ways, the attacks on her

were so obvious and so impersonal that they had the same quality as a

drive-by shooting.

It was nine o'clock by then, and her secretary had arrived, a

high-strung girl named Jean who had worked for the president of a

record company previously, and had worked for Tanya for more than a

year.� She was efficient and trustworthy, but Tanya didn't like the

fact that the girl always seemed to increase the feeling of urgency

around her, rather than diminish it for her.� And she did just exactly

that that morning.

Within the first hour she was there, there were three calls from New

York, two from entertainment magazines, wanting interviews, and one

from the show she was going to be on.� The lawyer called her back two

more times, and her agent called to press her into a decision about her

next concert tour.� She hadn't committed herself yet, and they had to

know immediately because it would be impossible to include Japan

otherwise, and the agent she used in Britain called wanting to know

about a contract.� They got word of another tabloid story coming out,

and they called about a technical problem as well in her current

record.� She was doing a benefit the next night, had to get to the

recording studio by noon, and had rehearsals that night for the

benefit.� And her film agent called, wanting to talk to her about

another movie.

"God, what is today?� A full moon, or is everyone in this town just

going crazy?"� Tanya brushed the long blond hair out of her eyes with

one hand, while Jean handed her a cup of coffee, and reminded her that

she had to give an answer about the tour before four-thirty.� "I don't

have to do anything, goddammit, and if they don't include Japan, then

too bad.

I'm not going to be pressured into making a decision before I m

ready."

She was scowling when she said it, which was uncharacteristic of her.

Tanya had always had an easygoing disposition, but there was enough

pressure on her to make a volcano erupt, and she was only human, and

could only take so much.

"What about the interview with View?"� Jean asked relentlessly.� "They

really need an answer from you this morning."

"Why didn't they call my PR people?"� Tanya asked, feeling increasingly

stressed with every passing moment.� "They're not supposed to be

calling me directly.� And why aren't you telling them that?"

"I tried, but they didn't want to hear it.� You know how it is, Tanya,

the minute they get your number, everyone wants to talk to you

directly."

"Yeah, and so do I."� It was Tony.� He was back from playing golf, and

he was standing in the doorway of her office, looking anything but

happy.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Tan?"

"Sure," she said, looking up at him, feeling suddenly nervous.� She had

to be at the studio in half an hour, but she didn't want to put him

off.

He didn't look as though he'd be willing to wait another minute.

Whatever was bothering him seemed urgent.

Jean left them alone, and Tanya waited for him to sit down.� He looked

as though he had something major to say to her, and she wasn't sure she

was ready to hear it.� "Is something wrong?"� she asked in an anxious

whisper.

"Not really," he sighed, and looked away from her out the window.� "No

more than usual.� And I don't want you to get me wrong."� He turned and

looked at her, but she could see in his eyes how angry he still was,

how betrayed he felt, not just by her, or the story the bodyguard had

told, but by the fact that their life required that kind of abuse, and

there was never any way to escape the torture.� As celebrities, they

had no right to privacy, or even honesty, and every invented tale about

her, every story made up by anyone, enjoyed the protection of the First

Amendment. �"I'm not angry about the thing in the paper today," he lied

to himself more than to her, but he liked to believe he was fair to

her, even when he wasn't, "it's not much worse than anything else

they've said about us.� I have a lot of respect for you, Tan.� I don't

know how you take all the shit you do," and they both knew there was

plenty of it.� The previous Christmas, they'd had to have bodyguards

for all his kids, because there'd been a very serious death threat on

all of them, particularly Tanya, and his ex-wife had a fit over it.� "I

think you're an amazing woman."� But she didn't like the way he looked

at her when he said it.� It was all in his eyes and she had seen it

coming for a year.� He was sick of it, and he could still walk away

from it.� The difference was, she couldn't.� Even if she decided to

retire that afternoon, it would go on for a long, long time, maybe

forever, and she knew it.

"What are you saying to me?"� She tried not to sound cynical, but it

was hard not to.� She'd been there before, in various ways, with

different people.� She told herself she was ready for it, but in her

heart of hearts, she knew she wasn't.� You never were, you always hoped

that this time it would be different, that he would be strong enough,

that he would really care, that it would be worth it to him to stick by

her and help her.� It was all she'd ever wanted, maybe even more than

children, just a solid, real relationship with a man who would stick

around when the shit hit the fan, because it would.� She had told Tony

that at the beginning.� And he'd been good about it, for nearly three

years now, but lately he was getting testy.� Too much so.

get here."

"Are you telling me I'm too good for you, that I deserve better than

you have to give?� One of those noble little speeches that makes me

feel that I'm rising to greatness while you run out the door?"� She

looked him in the eye, and spoke clearly.� There was no point hiding

from what was coming.� And she knew it was now.

"That's a lousy thing to say.� I've never run out on you."� He looked

hurt and she felt sorry.� Maybe she was premature in her accusations.

"No, but you're thinking about it, aren't you?"� Tanya asked softly.

He sat looking at her for a long time, neither confirming nor denying

what she had asked him.� "I don't even know what I'm saying to you.

I'm just telling you I'm getting tired.� This is a hard life you live,

harder than anyone ever knows until they ,^ "I warned you of that," she

said, feeling like a climber on Everest halfway through the climb, as

her companions began to fail her.� "I told you what it was like.� It's

a tough life here, Tony.� There are wonderful things about it, and I

love my work, but I hate what all the other stuff does to me .� . . and

to you .� . . and to us .� . . and the kids .� . . I know how hard it

is.

But the bitch of it is, I can't do anything to stop it, and you know

that."

"I know, I know .� . . and I have no right to complain."

He looked at her with eyes filled with embarrassment and agony, but she

knew as she looked at him that, for Tony, it was over.� You could just

see it.� He'd had his fling with Hollywood, and for him, the romance

had faded.� "I know how hard it is on you, and I don't mean to make it

any worse.� I know how hard you work, and what a perfectionist you are

. . . but that's part of it too.� There's no time in your life for me

anywhere, all it is is concerts and rehearsals and recordings.

You're doing great things, Tan, and meanwhile I'm sitting here reading

about us in the tabloids."

"And believing it?"� she asked him bluntly.� Maybe that was it.� Maybe

he thought it was true.� The bodyguard who was suing her had been a

real son of a bitch, but he was very attractive.

"No, I'm not believing it," he sighed, "but I'm not enjoying it

either.

The guys I played golf with this morning made a big deal about it.

Actually, some of them thought it was pretty funny, to have a wife who

gets sued for sexual harassment, most of them claim their wives never

want to sleep with them."� He looked embarrassed by what he was saying,

but Tanya got the deeper meaning.� His friends had been harassing him,

and Tony was tired of being humiliated.� It was a reasonable complaint,

but she was tired of it too.� The problem was that he could get a

ticket to freedom anytime, and she couldn't.� The tabloids, and the

potential "suers," were gunning for her, not her husband.� "I don't

know what I'm saying to you," Tony said unhappily, "it's not much fun

like this, is it?"

"No, it's not," she said sadly, too decimated by the look in his eyes

to even argue with him about it.� Somehow, the bad guys always won in

the end.� The tabloids and the lawsuits and the threats and the

pressure of all of it proved to be too much for any relationship with

any normal human being.� "Are you telling me you want out?"� she asked

miserably.� He was not the love of her life, but she was comfortable

with him, she trusted him, she loved him and his kids.� If it had been

up to her, she would never have ended their marriage.

"I'm not sure," he admitted to her.� He had been thinking about it for

a while, but he hadn't come to any definite conclusions.� "I'm not sure

how many more rounds of this I can take, to be honest with you.� And I

don't want to be unfair to you.� It's really starting to get to me, and

I thought you should know that."

"I appreciate your honesty," she said, looking at him, already feeling

betrayed that he wasn't there for her, that the "embarrassment" of

being married to her, and what it entailed, was making him

want to leave her.� "I wish I could make it better."

"I wish it didn't bother me.� I never thought it would.� It all seems

much more human scale until you step into it, and then it's very

Alice-in-Wonderland.� It's all very unreal as you begin to fall and

fall and fall .� .."� he said, and listening to him reminded her again

that she loved him.� He was a bright man, and despite their

differences, they still had a lot in common.

"That's an interesting way to put it," she said, smiling wistfully at

him, knowing in her heart of hearts that for him anyway, it was

probably already over.� "What about the kids?"� she asked, looking

suddenly distraught.� "If you leave, will you still let me see them?"

There were tears in her eyes as she asked him.� It had all been so

bloodless so far and so reasonable.� The first of many talks to begin

the unraveling of their marriage.� But he reached out and touched her

hand when he saw the devastated look in her eyes.� He felt terrible at

what he was seeing.� And he hated himself for doing this to her, but he

had known for a while that he couldn't take it much longer.� And the

story in the morning paper had really gotten to him.

"I still love you, Tan," he said in a whisper, and she hated him for

looking so handsome as he said it.� He still appealed to her a great

deal, he was sexy, handsome, and smart, even if he wasn't there for her

a lot of the time but she'd always been willing to forgive him.� "I

just wanted to tell you what I was feeling.� And even if things don't

work out for us, I would never stop you from seeing the kids.� They

love you," he said, looking kindly at her in a way that tore her heart

out.� He was saying good-bye without saying the words, but she knew it

wouldn't be long now.� It was over for him, if not for her.

"And I love them."� She began to cry softly, and he went to sit next to

her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"They love you too, and so do I, Tan, in my own crazy way," he said,

but she didn't believe him.� If he really loved her, he wouldn't want

to leave her.

"What about Wyoming?� Will they still come?� Will you?"� she asked,

feeling desperate and suddenly very frightened.� She was losing him,

and probably them too.� Why would they want to see her if their father

left her?� Had she established enough of a relationship in the past

three years for them to want to do that?� And when she looked up, Tony

was looking at her strangely.

"I think they ought to go with you.� I think it would be a great

experience for them," he said, looking uncomfortable, and she

understood immediately what he was saying.

"But you won't come.� Is that it?"

"I don't think so.� I think it would be a good time for us to take a

break.� I think I'm going to go to Europe."

"When did that come up?� Today on the golf course?"� What was happening

here?� How long had he been planning this defection?� She suddenly

wondered as she listened.� And as her eyes bored into his, he looked a

little sheepish.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, Tan.� It didn't just happen

this morning over breakfast.� I think that was kind of the catalyst.

But it was the Enquirer last week.� The Star the week before.� It's

been lawsuits and crises and death threats and tabloids ever since we

got married."

"I thought you were getting used to it," she said, sounding startled.

"I don't see how anyone can.� You're not used to it either."� He had

worried at times about the incredible stress it all caused her, he knew

that even people as young as she was sometimes keeled over and died

from too much stress.� Sometimes he seriously wondered how she

didn't.

"Anyway, Tanya, I'm sorry."

"So what do we do now?"� She wanted to know if she was supposed to go

upstairs and pack his bags for him, or make wild passionate love to him

and talk him out of it.� What was the protocol, and what did he

expect?

And even more important than that, what was it she wanted?� She didn't

even know herself.� She was still too hurt and too startled by what he

was saying.

"I'm not sure what we do," he said honestly.� "I want to think about it

for a while.� But I wanted to warn you of the direction I'm going."

"Kind of like a hurricane, or a flood, sort of a natural disaster," she

said, trying to smile, but tears kept springing to her eyes, and then

Jean knocked on the door and stuck her head in.

"You're an hour late at the studio.� The producer called, and he wanted

to remind you the meter's running.� The rmusicians want to know if they

can take an early lunch and come back in an hour.� And your agent

called to remind you, he needs an answer from you today by

four-thirty.

Bennett Pearson called too.� He needs you to call him as soon as you're

finished.

" "Okay, okay."� Tanya put up a hand to stop her.� "Tell the musicians

to take lunch now.� I'll be there in half an hour.� Tell Tom to wait

and we'll go over the arrangements."� And how in hell was she supposed

to sing, and decide about Japan, a new film, another tour, and whether

or not to pay a settlement to the blackmailer who had told his story in

the morning paper?� As Jean left the room again, she looked up at her

husband.

"I guess you're right.� None of this is much fun, is it?"

"Sometimes it's lots of fun," he said, "but most of the time it

isn't.

There's too high a price to pay for it," he said honestly as he stood

up.� He felt like hell, but secretly he was relieved, as far as he was

concerned, her life was an absolute nightmare.� "Go do your recording,

Tan.� I'm sorry I made you late.� We'll talk another time.� There's

nothing to resolve now.� I'm sorry I took so much time."� No problem.

An hour.

Three years.� It was great fun.� Hell, who can blame you for wanting to

bail out now?� She watched him leave the room, torn between sorrow and

hatred.

"Everything all right?"� Jean was back in with a stack of messages for

her, and a reminder that she had to leave for the studio in the next

five minutes.

"Okay, okay, I'm going, and yes, I'm fine."� Fine.� Every thing was

always fine, even when it wasn't.� And she couldn't help wondering how

long it would take the press to find out, if Tony left her.� It

shouldn't have been a consideration, but it was.� The prospect of

another round of stories on her seemed exhausting.

She washed her face before she left, and tried not to cry.� She put on

dark glasses, and Jean drove the car.� She returned some of her calls

from the car, and told her agent she'd do the concert tour,

including Japan.

She would be on the road the following year for nearly four months, but

she could fly home from time to time, and she knew how important the

concert tour was.� She went straight into the studio when they arrived,

and stayed until six o'clock, and then she went on to the rehearsal for

the benefit, and didn't get home again until eleven o'clock that

evening.� And when she did, she found a note from Tony on the kitchen

table.� He had gone to Palm Springs for the weekend.� She stood for a

long moment, holding the note in her hand, wondering where their life

had gone, and how long it would take him now to end it.� The

handwriting was on the wall, and it didn't take a clairvoyant to guess

that he was on his way out.� She thought about stopping him, about

calling him in Palm Springs, and telling him how much she loved him,

how sorry she was for all the pain she'd caused.� But when she picked

up the phone, she just stood there.� Why wasn't he there for her?� Why

couldn't he take the same abuse that was being heaped on her?� Why was

he so willing to run?� The only conclusion she could come to as she

thought about it was that it was entirely possible Tony Goldman had

never really loved her.� And if that was truly the case, she would very

probably never know it.� She set down the phone, and with tears in her

eyes, she walked quietly toward the silence of their bedroom.

When Tanya flew to New York, she took the record company' s plane, and

in order to be alone, she decided not to take her secretary with her.

She really didn} need Jean for one TV show, and a meeting with a

literary agdnt.� Besides, she wanted some time to think about Tony.

After his weekend in Palm Springs, he had come home dutifully on Sunday

night.

They'd had dinner with the kids, and nothing more was said about his

unhappiness, or the stories in the tabloids.� She didn't have the

courage or the energy to broach either subject with him.� And he was

careful not to say anything more to her.� He didn't even mention it

when People magazine picked up the story of the lawsuit.� He knew he

had said enough, and he had already gone to the office when she left

for the airport to go to New York on Tuesday.

The plane was waiting for her, and it was almost like having a

commercial airliner all to herself.� There was a company executive

heading for New York onboard.� He obviously knew who she was, but other

than a curt hello, he said nothing more to her.� And she made notes,

and telephone calls, and worked on some music.

Halfway to New York her lawyer called to tell her the ex-bodyguard

wanted a million dollars to drop his lawsuit.

"Tell him I'll see him in court," Tanya said coolly.

"Tanya, I don't think that's smart," Bennett Pearson said calmly "I'm

not going to pay people to blackmail me.� He can't prove anything, he

has no case.� It's a complete fabrication."

"It's his word against yours.� You're a big star, and according to him,

you went after him, you traumatized him, you fired him, you ruined his

life because he wouldn't have sex with you."

"It's all right, Bennett.� You don't have to go through all of it.� I

know what he's claiming."

"People could feel sorry for him.� Juries are unpredictable these

days.

You have to think about that.� What if they award him ten million

dollars for his pain and suffering?� How would you feel then?"

"Like I wanted to kill him."

"Think about it.� I think you should buy your way out.� And a million

is a nice clean number."

"Do you know how hard I have to work for that?� They don't just give

that stuff away, you know."

"You're going on tour next year.� Take it out of that, and chalk it up

to bad luck, like a fire in the house not covered by your insurance."

"That's sick.� This is nothing more than a holdup."� a "That's right,

and it's been done before.� To you, and t lot of others."

"It makes me sick to pay people like that."

"Just give it some thought.� You have enough other things on your plate

without adding a lawsuit to it.� The last thing you need is to give a

deposition that will end up in the tabloids.� It would be a matter of

public record, and so would the proceedings."

"All right, all right."

"Call me from New York."� Why was it all so unpleasant?� No wonder Tony

wanted out.� She wished she could walk out of her life too sometimes,

but it was all inescapably attached to her, like warts, or cancer.

The flight to New York took only five hours, and she called Mary

Stuartjust before they landed.� She said she'd be there in half an hour

to pick her up, and Mary Stuart sounded excited to see her.� Tanya

called her again half an hour later from the car, and when she got

there, her old friend was waiting downstairs, in jeans and a little

cotton sweater.

The two women hugged each other close, and Tanya took a long look at

her friend in the dark car.� Mary Stuart looked thinner and far more

serious than she had a year before.� The last year had obviously taken

a tremendous toll on her.� Tanya knew with Alyssa in Paris, it was even

harder.� But Alyssa had needed to be away from them, and Mary Stuart

knew it, so she didn't complain about it.

"God, you never change," Mary Stuart said, admiring her, amazed at how

beautiful Tanya still looked, even at their age.� It was as though the

hands of time never touched her.� "How do you do that?"

"Professional secrets, my dear," she laughed, looking sexy and

mysterious, and then they both laughed.� But in spite of whatever

surgery she'd had, she also had great skin, beautiful hair, and a

fantastic figure.� And she had a youthful look about her that had never

left her.

Mary Stuart looked well too, but she looked closer to their age than

Tanya ever had.� But keeping her looks wasn't Mary Stuart's business.

"You're looking pretty good too, kid, in spite of everything," Tanya

dared to say it.� It was hard to believe it had been a year, the worst

in Mary Stuart's life, and probably Bill's, although he would never

admit it.

"I think you've made a pact with the devil," Mary Stuart complained.

"It's not fair to the rest of us.� What do you admit to now?

Thirty-one?

Twenty-five?� Nineteen?� They're going to think I'm your mother."

"Oh, shut up.� You look ten years younger than you are and you know

it."

"I wish."� But Mary Stuart knew just how hard the past year had been on

her.� In spite of what Tanya said, she could see it in the mirror.

They went to J.G. Melon's, as they had for years, and commented on the

faces they still saw, or no longer did, and Tanya told her she was

going on tour that winter.

"What does Tony think about that?"� Mary Stuart looked at her over her

hamburger, and there was a brief lull in the conversation, and then

Tanya glanced up at her, and her expression spoke volumes.

"I haven't told him.� I haven't actually seen much of him in the past

few days.� We .� . . uh .� . . I think I have a little problem."� Mary

Stuart frowned in concern and listened.� "He .� . . uh .� . . went to

Palm Springs for a few days, and he thinks maybe we need a break this

summer.

He says he's going to Europe, while I take the kids to Wyoming."

"Is he going on a religious pilgrimage, or is there something you're

not saying?"

"No."� Tanya put her hamburger down, and looked at her old friend

soberly.� "I think there's something he's not saying yet, but he

will.

He just doesn't know it yet.� He thinks he's still trying to make the

decision.� But I know the signs.� He's already made it."

"What makes you think he has?"� Mary Stuart felt sorry for her, but she

was not surprised either.� Tanya's lifestyle inevitably caused a lot of

casualties, and both of them knew that.� But as she talked about it,

Tanya looked disappointed and unhappy.

"I think he has, because I'm not as young as the doctor makes me

look."

Mary Stuart smiled at her comment.� "I'v,e seen a lot of fatalities.

He's already gone, he just doesn't kri it.� He can't take this pressure

anymore, apparently, the law suits, the tabloids, the attacks, the

slurs, the embarrassment, the humiliation.� I can't say I blame him."

"Aren't you forgetting something?� What about the good stuff?"� Mary

Stuart asked gently.

"I guess it kind of gets lost in the shuffle.� You forget about that.

I forget about it too, so I guess I can't really blame him.� The only

time I really like what I do is when I'm singing .� . . when I'm

recording, or in concert and I'm singing my guts out.� I don't even

care about the applause .� . . it's just the music .� . . and he

doesn't get that, I do.

"He gets all the shit.� I get the glory.� I suspect he's sick of it.

There was a story in the paper this week by some ex-employee we hired

last year, the guy claims I came on to him, and then fired him when he

wouldn't screw me.� You know, your usual nice, homespun little story.

It made the front page and embarrassed Tony with all his friends.� I

think it was kind of the last straw for him."

"What about you?� Where does that leave you?"� Mary Stuart looked

genuinely worried.� They had worried about each other for years, even

if they didn't talk all the time, or see each other constantly, or even

live in the same city.� But they both knew that they were always there

for each other.� "You're telling me that it's getting too hot for him,

so he's leaving?"

"He hasn't said that yet, but he's going to.� Right now, he wants time

off' so he can go to Europe.� Which leaves me taking his kids to a

ranch in Wyoming, but that's okay too.� I really love them."

"I know you do.� But I'm not exactly impressed by their father's

chivalry and devotion."

"So what else is new?"� Tanya smiled ruefully, and squeezed Mary

Stuart's hands.� "What about you?� How's Bill doing these days?� Has it

been as hard on him as it has on you?"� It was written all over her

face how much she'd been through.

"I suppose so."� She shrugged.� "We don't talk about it much .� There s

nothing to say.� You can t undo what happened."� Or the things they had

said to each other about it.

Tanya dared to ask her something then that she had wondered for the

past year, and she suspected was the root of the problem.� "Does he

blame you?"� It was barely more than a whisper, but even in the crowded

restaurant Mary Stuart heard her.

"Probably," she sighed.� "I suppose we both blame ourselves for not

seeing what was happening.� But I know in the beginning he felt that I

should have seen it coming.� I should have been able to foresee

disaster before it struck us.� Bill bestows magical qualities on me,

when it suits him.� In any case, I suppose I blame myself too.� It

doesn't change anything.� The delusion is that you can turn the clock

back, and stop it from happening, if you assign the blame to the right

person.� But it doesn't work that way.� It doesn't matter.� It's

over."

Tears filled her eyes and she looked away, and Tanya was instantly

sorry she had brought up the subject.

"I'm sorry .� . . I shouldn't have said anything .� .."� What was the

point now?� Tanya was silently berating herself for being so stupid, as

Mary Stuart dabbed at her eyes, and looked reassuringly at Tanya.

"It's all right, Tan.� It doesn't matter.� It hurts all the time

anyway.

Like a severed limb, it never stops, sometimes it's sharper than

others, sometimes it's really unbearable, sometimes you can live with

it, but it never stops aching.� You didn't make it hurt.� It's with me

every moment."

"You can't live like that forever," Tanya said, looking devastated for

her.� It was clearly the worst thing that had happened to any of them,

and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Apparently you can live like that forever," Mary Stuart answered her

desperately.� "People do it all the time, they live with constant pain

of all kinds, arthritis, rheumatism, indigestion, cancer, and then

there's this, the destruction of the heart, the death of hope, the loss

of everything you ever cared about, it's a challenge to the soul," she

said, looking agonized, but so strong that Tanya almost couldn't bear

it.

"Why don't you come to Wyoming with me and the kids?"� she suddenly

blurted out.� It was the only thing she could think of to help her.

Mary Stuart smiled at her.� "I'm going to Europe to see Alyssa,

otherwise I'd love to.� I love to ride."� And then she frowned,

confused by an old memory, and grateful to get off an unbearably

painful subject.

"I didn't think you did though."

"I don't."� Tanya laughed.� "I hate it.� But this is supposed to be a

fabulous place, and I thought it would be good for the kids."� She

looked awkward for a moment then.� "I thought Tony would like it too,

but he's not coming.� But the kids are twelve, fourteen, and seventeen

now, and they all love to ride.� I thought it would be perfect for

them."

"I'm sure it will be.� Are you going to ride too?"� Mary Stuart asked

her.

"Depends how cute the wranglers are," Tanya said, sounding very Texas

and they both laughed.� "I think I'm the only girl in Texas who always

hated horses."� But Mary Stuart remembered she rode well, she just

didn't like it.

"Maybe Tony will change his mind and go with you."

"I doubt it," Tanya said quietly.� "It sounds like he's made his mind

up.� Maybe the time away will do him good."� But Tanya didn't really

think it would make a difference, and Mary Stuart was silently of the

same opinion.� Things definitely seemed to be on their way downhill

between Tanya and her husband.

They chatted on for a little while, about Alyssa, and Tanya's next

movie, and the concert tour she had signed on for the following

winter.

Mary Stuart could only imagine how rigorous it would be, and she

admired Tanya for doing it.� And then they talked about the show she

was going to be on the next morning.� It was the number one daytime

talk show in the country.

"I had to come to New York for that meeting anyway, so I thought I

might as well do it.� I hope to hell they don't want to talk about the

lawsuit.� My agent already told them I didn't want to, for whatever

that's worth."� And then she remembered an invitation she wanted to

extend to Mary Stuart.� "I have a friend who opened in a play here last

week.� They said it's pretty good, and she got great reviews. �They're

going to run it through the summer and see how it does, and if they do

okay, they're going to run it through next winter.

I'll get you tickets if you want.� But she's giving a party tomorrow

night, and I said I'd go.� If you want to come, I'd love to take you.

Would Bill enjoy something like that?� He's welcome too, I just didn't

know if it was his cup of tea, or if he'd be too busy."� Or if he was

currently speaking to Mary Stuart.

"You sweetheart."� Mary Stuart smiled at her, Tanya always brought so

much sunshine and excitement into her life.� It reminded her of over

twenty years before.� It was always Tanya who rallied everyone, got

them all going on some crazy project she had, or made everyone have

fun, sometimes in spite of themselves.� But she couldn't see Bill being

willing to do that.� They hadn't gone out in months, except for

business purposes, and he was working late every night now, getting

ready for London.� He was leaving in two weeks for the rest of the

summer, but she hoped that at the end of her trip, with Alyssa, they

would spend a weekend at Claridge's in London, visiting him.� But he

had already told her he would be too busy to have them stay any

longer.

And after that, Mary Stuart was flying back to the States.� He said

he'd let her know how the trial was going, and if she could come over

again to visit.� In some ways, it didn't sound too much different to

her from what Tony had said to Tanya.� And perhaps it wasn't.� They

both seemed to be losing the men in their lives, and had no way to stop

them from going.

"I'm not sure Bill would be able to join us.� He's working late every

night before he leaves for London for the trial.� But I'll ask him."

"Would you want to come without him?� She's a nice girl," and then

Tanya looked embarrassed.� She was acting as though she was an unknown

actress.

"I should probably tell you it's Felicia Davenport, so you don't faint

when you meet her.� I've known her for years, and she's really

terrific."

"You disgusting name-dropper."� Mary Stuart was laughing at her, she

was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, and she was taking her first

stab at Broadway.� Mary Stuart had just read about it in the New York

Timwes on Sunday.� "It's a good thing you told me before I met her.� I

would have died, you're right.� You dummy."� They were both laughing as

they left the restaurant, and Tanya told her she could let her know

about the party in the morning.� It was at Felicia's rented town house

in the East Sixties.

Tanya dropped Mary Stuart off at her apartment then, and she promised

to watch Tanya on the show the next morning, and she hugged her tightly

as she left her.� "Thanks for tonight, Tan.� It's so good to see

you."

She hadn't even realized how brittle and lonely she was until she saw

her friend.� She and Bill had barely spoken to each other all year, and

she felt like a plant that hadn't been watered.� But seeing Tanya had

been like standing in a rainstorm getting revitalized again.� And she

was smiling when she walked into the building with a spring in her

step, and nodded at the doorman.

"Good evening, Mrs. Walker," he said, and tipped his hat to her, as he

always did.� The elevator man told her Bill had come in just a few

minutes before her.� And when she let herself in, she found him in the

den, putting away some papers.� She was in good spirits, and she smiled

at him, as he turned to face her.� And he looked startled to see her

expression, as though they had both forgotten what it was like to have

a good time, to be with friends, to talk to each other.

"Where were you?"� He looked surprised.� She looked like an entirely

different person, and he couldn't imagine where she'd been at that

hour, in blue jeans.

"Tanya Thomas is in town, we just had dinner.� It was great to see

her."

She felt like a drunk in church, as she grinned at him, and seemed to

have suddenly forgotten the solemnity of the last year, the silence

that had sprung up like a wall between them.� She felt suddenly too

loud, too jovial, and surprisingly awkward with her husband.� "I'm

sorry to come home so late .� . . I left you a note .� .."� She

faltered, feeling herself shrink as she looked at him.� His eyes were

so cold, his face so expressionless.� The handsome, chiseled features

that she had loved for so long had turned to stone in the past year,

along with everything else about him.� He had taken so much distance

from her that she couldn't even see him anymore, much less find him.

All she could hear was an echo of what had been.

"I didn't see the note."� It was a statement more than an accusation.

And as she looked at him, she often found herself wishing he weren't

still so handsome.� He was fifty-four years old, and he was well over

six feet tall, with an athletic physique, and a long lean body.� He had

piercing blue eyes, which had looked like ice for a year now.

"I'm sorry, Bill," she said quietly.� She felt as though she had spent

a lifetime apologizing to him for something she should never have been

blamed for.� But she knew he would never forgive her.� "I left the note

in the kitchen."

"I ate at the office."

"How's it going?"� she asked, as he put the rest of his papers in his

briefcase.

"Very well, thanks," he said, as though talking to a secretary or a

stranger.� "We're almost ready.� It's going to be a very interesting

trial," he said, and then turned off the light in the den, as though to

dismiss her.� He was carrying his briefcase to their bedroom.� It was

something he would never have done a year before, and it was a small

thing, but it no longer mattered.� "I think we're actually going to

leave for London a little early."� He had said nothing to her until

now.� He had just made his plans, and that was it, as though he no

longer had to consult her.� She wanted to know what "early" meant in

this case, but she didn't dare ask him.� It would probably just annoy

him.

If he was leaving early, maybe she would too, although she still didn't

have the final details.� They had reservations in hotels in Paris,

St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, San Remo, Florence, and Rome, and they were going

to be staying at Claridge's with Bill in London.� It was going to be a

terrific trip, and after their months apart, Mary Stuart was really

looking forward to traveling with her daughter.� She had just turned

twenty in April.� Her birthday was a week before her brother's.� And

both days had been important to Mary Stuart.

And as Bill put down his briefcase and headed for their bathroom to put

his pajamas on, Mary Stuart remembered Tanya's invitation, and she told

him about it.� "I think it's a cocktail party or something.� It's being

given by Felicia Davenport.� Apparently, she's a friend of Tanya's."

And at the look on his face, she felt like a fourteen-year-old asking

her father to go to the senior prom.� He looked appalled that she had

even dared to ask him.� "I think you might enjoy it.� Her new play has

gotten rave reviews, and Tanya says she's a nice woman."

"I'm sure that's true, but I have to work late again tomorrow night.

This is an enormous case we're preparing, Mary Stuart.� I thought you

understood that."� It was a reproach even more than a refusal, and his

tone suddenly annoyed her.

"I do, but you have to admit, it's an unusual invitation.� I think we

should go."� She wanted to do it.� She was tired of sitting home and

grieving.� Seeing Tanya had reminded her there was a whole world out

there�even with her own problems, and worries about Tony, her lawsuits,

and the tabloids, she wasn't sitting at home, crying in the corner.� It

had reminded Mary Stuart that there were other options.

"It's out of the question for me," he said firmly, "but you're welcome

to go if you want to."� He closed the door to the bathroom and when he

came out, his wife was waiting for him with a purposeful look.

"I will," she said, with a stubborn look in her eyes, as though she

expected him to fight her.

"Will what?"� He looked completely confused by what she was saying.

And if he didn't know her better, he would have thought she'd been

drinking.� She was behaving very strangely.� "What are you talking

about?"� he said, looking annoyed, and unaware of the fact that she

seemed more relaxed than usual and actually looked very pretty.

"I will go to the party," she said, looking determined.

"Fine.� And I will not, as long as you understand that.� It'll be fun

for you to meet people like that.� Tanya certainly seems to have

interesting friends, but that's hardly surprising."� He seemed to

forget about it then, and went to bed with a stack of magazines he

needed to glance through for legal and business purposes.� There were

several articles about some of his clients.� And Mary Stuart

disappeared into the bathroom, and emerged ten minutes later in a white

cotton nightgown.� She could have worn chain mail or a hair shirt and

he wouldn't have noticed, and she lay in bed quietly while he read,

thinking about her conversation with Tanya, and the things she had said

about Tony.� She wondered if Tanya was right, and if he really would be

leaving soon, or if he would stick around and work it out.� It seemed

so unfair of him not to stand by Tanya, but she seemed resigned to his

defection, and almost to expect it.� Mary Stuart couldn't help

wondering if Tanya should take a less accepting role, and at least try

to stop him.� It was so easy to look at someone else's life and decide

what they should do.� She had been completely unable to do it in her

own life.� In the past year, she had been completely helpless to

reverse the tides, or to reach Bill at any time.� He was totally beyond

her reach, behind a wall of ice that grew thicker and thicker by the

moment.� She felt as though she hadn't really seen him in months, and

she had begun to lose hope of ever reaching him again.� She had no idea

what they would do about their future.� And he was certainly not open

to discussion about that either.� She had the feeling that if she had

even mentioned it to him, he would have acted as though she were

crazy.

As he had tonight, when she came home with a lighter step, and a smile

on her face.� He had looked at her as though she came from another

planet.� It was obvious that laughter was no longer to be tolerated,

and any kind of closeness between them was a thing of the distant

past.

And she only really noticed how bad it had become when she saw them

through other people's eyes.� Alyssa had looked horrified when she came

home at Christmas, and couldn't wait to go back to Paris.� And yet, as

awful as it was for all of them, Mary Stuart had no idea how to stop

it.� And Bill didn't want to.

He turned out the light when he finished reading, and said nothing at

all to Mary Stuart.� She was lying on her side, with her eyes closed,

pretending to be asleep, wondering if he would ever become human again,

if he would ever reach out to her, if anyone would ever care about her,

or touch her, or tell her they loved her, or if that was all in the

past now.� At forty-four, in more ways than one, her life was not only

shrinking, it was over.

Mary Stuart diligently stayed home to watch Tanya on television the

next day, and wanted to leap out of her seat and smash the screen when

the interviewer segued from a question about Tanya's childhood in a

small town in Texas right to one about the recent rumor linking her to

a trainer, and then a snide reference to the lawsuit she'd just been

slapped with for sexually harassing an employee.� But in spite of Mary

Stuart's fury, Tanya handled it gracefully and seemingly with ease and

a friendly smile, as she brushed it off as blackmail, and typical fare

for the tabloids.� But when she came off the set, her arms were glued

to her sides, and she felt as though she'd spilled a glass of water

under each armpit, not to mention the beginnings of a massive

headache.

"So much for daytime TV," she said to the publicity woman who had

accompanied her to the set, and escorted her to her next stop, the

appointment with the literary agent about doing a book about her

life.

But in the end the meeting held little appeal for her.� All they wanted

was sensationalism, not substance.� She was sick of all of them by the

time she called Jean that afternoon, and found out that she was once

again all over the L.A. papers, and there was something in the tabloids

about her husband spending a weekend in Palm Springs with an

unidentified starlet.

"Was that harlot?"� she asked pointedly, and Jean laughed.� It was not a

pretty story.� Jean read the L.A. piece about the lawsuit to her, and

Tanya had to fight back tears as she listened.� The ex-bodyguard was

claiming that she had taunted him repeatedly by strolling around the

house naked when they were alone, which would have made her laugh, if

she hadn't been so distressed by the story.� "I wish I could remember

the last time I was alone in that house," Tanya said, feeling

depressed.� She could just imagine Tony's reaction.� But she declined

Jean's offer to read the tabloid story about him to her.� She went out

and bought it herself after she hung up, and it was a beauty.� There

was a photograph of him trying to hide from a photographer, and a

picture of a young actress Tanya knew, who couldn't have been a day

over twenty.� But it was also impossible to tell if the photograph had

been computerized, and the paper just made it look as though they were

together.� These days you could never be sure about pictures.� But she

didn't like it anyway, and although at first she resisted, she

eventually called him at the office.

She caught him just as he was leaving.

"I gather my name's been up in lights again today," she said, trying to

inject a little humor into a dismal situation.

"You could say that.� Your friend Leo seems to have a lot to say about

you.� Have you read it?"� he said, sounding really furious and barely

able to conceal it from her.

"Jean read it to me.� It's all bullshit though.� I hope you know

that."

She sounded very calm, and very much in control, and very Southern.

"I'm not sure what I know anymore, Tan."

"What they wrote about me is no worse than the tabloid story on you and

the girl you supposedly took to Palm Springs.� They even printed a

picture of you," she said, trying to tease him.� "And that's not true

either.� So what's the big deal here?"

There was a long pause, and then he spoke very slowly.� "As a matter of

fact, it is true.� I was going to tell you about it, but I didn't get a

chance before you left."� She felt as though he had hit her with a

club.

He had cheated on her, it was in the tabloids and he was admitting it

to her.� For a long moment, she was silent.� She didn't know what to

say.

"That's quite a story.� What do you expect me to say now?"

"You have a right to be real pissed off, Tan.� I wouldn't blame you at

all.� I think someone tipped them off.� I have no idea how they turned

up at the hotel.� I figured it would hit the papers."

"You're a little too old to be that naive, you know that?� You've been

around Hollywood long enough to know how it works.� Who do you think

called them?� She did.� This is a big coup for her, walking off with

Tanya Thomas's husband.� Big time, Tony.� How could she pass up an

opportunity like that?"� It was a nasty thing to say, but it was

probably true, and he knew it.� It hadn't even occurred to him when it

happened.� And at his end of the phone, there was a long, long

silence.

"You're a celebrity now, Mr.� Goldman.� How do you like it?"

"There's not much I can say, Tan."

"No, there isn't.� You could have at least been discreet, or taken

someone who wouldn't sell out your ass and mine to the tabloids."

"I don't want to play this game with you, Tanya," he said, sounding

embarrassed and angry. �"I'm moving out tomorrow."� There was another

long silence, while she nodded and fought back tears.

'%eh, I figured that," she said hoarsely.

"I can't live like this anymore, being a constant target for the

tabloids."

"I don't like it either," she said sadly.� "The only difference is you

have a choice, I don't."

"I'm sorry for you then," but he didn't sound it.� He had turned mean

suddenly.� He'd gotten caught with his pants down, and he didn't like

it.

He didn't like playing second fiddle to her, he didn't like being sold

out and betrayed and made a fool of.� He didn't like any of it, and he

couldn't wait to get out of her house and her life, and the spotlight

he had been forced into while he was married to her.� At first he had

wanted it, but when they'd turned the heat up too high, he found he

didn't like it.

"I'm sorry, Tan .� . . I didn't want to do it over the phone.� I was

going to tell you tomorrow when you got home."� She nodded, as the

tears rolled down her cheeks, and he inquired if she was still there,

and she finally answered.

"Yeah, I'm here," more or less, what was left of her.� It was all so

damn hard, and so unbearably lonely.� She had been through so much for

so long, been so used and so exploited and treated so unkindly.� She

had been robbed blind by the manager she'd married, and now Tony didn't

have the balls to stick it out after three years, and he was running

off to Palm Springs to fuck starlets.� Just what did he think the

tabloids would do with that?� How could he have been so careless and so

stupid?

"I'm sorry," he said weakly, but by then it didn't matter.

"I know .� . . never mind .� . . I'll see you when I get back," she

said, anxious to get away from him.� He had hurt her enough.� She

didn't have anything else to say.� And then she had another thought.

"What about Wyoming?"

"Take the kids.� It'll be good for them," he said grandly, relieved to

be off the hook himself.� He was anxious to be off to Europe, and he

was taking the same starlet with him.

"Thanks .� .."� And then, "Tony .� . . I'm sorry too .� .."� She

started to sob then, and a moment later she hung up the phone.� She was

still crying when it rang again.� She almost didn't answer it, she was

sure it was Tony, calling back to see if she was all right.� But it

wasn't.� It was Mary Stuart, and she could hear instantly how upset

Tanya was.� And through tears, Tanya managed to explain that Tony had

just left her.� She told her about the two articles, and that Tony had

been cheating on her in Palm Springs.� It was all tangled and nearly

unintelligible, but Mary Stuart managed to figure out what was

happening, and insisted she come over.

They had plenty of time before the party, if they even went after

all.

All Tanya wanted to do was go home, but they weren't sending the plane

for her until the next morning.

"I want you to come up here for a cup of tea, or a Kleenex, or a glass

of water .� . . come on, you.� If you don't come, I'll come and get

you," Mary Stuart insisted, and Tanya was reluctant but touched by the

offer.

"I'm okay."� But she sounded anything but convincing while she cried

harder.

"No, you're not okay, you liar."� And then, the ultimate threat.� "If

you don't come, I'll call the tabloids," Mary Stuart said firmly, and

Tanya laughed.

"You're disgusting," Tanya said, laughing through her tears.� "I don't

see you for a year, and what do I do, I end up getting divorced in the

two days I do finally see you."

"At least I can be here for you.� Now come on over, before I call the

Enquirer and the Globe and the Star, and any others I can find.� Do you

want me to come and get you, Tan?"� she asked gently, but Tanya blew

her nose again at the other end.

"No, I'm okay.� All right .� . . I'll come over.� I'll be there in five

minutes."� And she was, with uncombed hair, and red eyes and a red

nose.

But in spite of it all, she still looked gorgeous, as Mary Stuart told

her, as she put her arms around her and held her like a child crying in

her arms.� She had had a lot of practice with Todd and Alyssa, and she

was a good mother.� She had done a lot of comforting and consoling in

twenty-two years.� But sadly, not enough for Todd.� If she had, things

might have been different.

"I can't believe this .� . . it's all fallen apart in about five

minutes," Tanya said about her marriage.� Except they both knew that it

had actually taken a lot longer.� Tony had been steaming for a long

time, about all the things that irked him in her life, he just hadn't

said so.� And she realized now that he had been unhappy for a lot

longer than she thought.� Looking back, she could see all the signals,

but she had missed them as they happened.

Mary Stuart made her a cup of tea, despite the heat outside, and Tanya

sat down in the immaculate white kitchen and drank it.

"What do you do in this place anyway?"� Tanya asked, as she looked

around her.� "Order out?"

"No, I cook here," Mary Stuart said primly, but with a smile at her

friend.� Tanya looked battered and bruised, but a little bit better for

the comfort.� "I just like things clean and organized."

"No," Tanya corrected her.� "You like things perfect, and you know

it.

But it can't always be perfect, sometimes everything is a mess and

that's just the way it is, and you can't change that.� Maybe you need

to accept that.� I keep getting the feeling that you're beating

yourself up for what happened."� It was true, and Tanya wanted more

than anything to release her friend from the torment she could still

see in her eyes.

"Wouldn't you beat yourself up?"� Mary Stuart asked softly.� "How could

I not blame myself?� Bill blames me .� . . I know it .� . . he can't

even look at me anymore.� We live here like strangers.� We're not even

enemies anymore .� . . at first we were, there's not even that now."

"Is he coming tonight?"� Tanya asked her, feeling sad for both of

them.

The hands life had dealt them had not been easy.� At least not

lately.

But Mary Stuart shook her head in answer.� "He said he has to work late

at the office."

"He's hiding."� Like most people, she was wise about everyone's life

but her own, but Tanya was also smarter than most people.� She just

picked lousy husbands.

"I know he is," Mary Stuart said as they wandered to her bedroom.� "But

I can't find him.� I've looked everywhere, and I don't know where he is

anymore.� It's like Invaszon of the Body Snatchers.� There's a man

living here, and he looks like Bill, but I know he isn't.� But I have

no idea where they've put the real one."

"Keep looking," Tanya said, and surprised Mary Stuart with her

earnestness.� "It's not over till it's over."� Somehow Tanya felt they

had something worth saving.� They'd been married for nearly twenty-two

years.

That was a long time to walk out on.� On the other hand, people did it,

and if Mary Stuart never found him again, it was wrong of her to waste

her life with him forever, and Tanya knew that.� She just hated to see

her give up so soon, after everything that had happened to them.� And

it was so unfair that he should blame Mary Stuart.

"Is that true for you too?"� Mary Stuart asked her, as they walked back

down the hall toward the living room, past a bunch of closed doors that

Tanya suspected were other bedrooms.� "It's not over till it's over?"

"I think in my case, it's different," Tanya said with a sigh.� "Maybe

it never was, or never should have been.� But I think it's been over

for a while, and I didn't want to see it.� I never realized how unhappy

he was with all the garbage I can't control.� But if that's going to

make him crazy, then I can't do anything about it."� She still loved

him, but she was also smart enough to know when she was defeated.� And

in some ways, it had never been completely right between them since the

beginning and she knew that too, although she would have hated to admit

it.

They settled in the living room and talked for a while, and then Tanya

got up and said she had to go to the powder room, and Mary Stuart told

her where to go.� There was a tiny guest bathroom down the hall, on the

left, and Tanya walked swiftly toward it.� She opened the door, turned

on the light, and then gasped.� She had opened the wrong door, and she

was standing in Todd's bedroom, staring at the trophies and the

pictures and the memorabilia all around her.� Everything in the room

was perfectly in place, and it was as if he was in school, and would be

home from Princeton any minute.� And as she stood looking at all of it,

Tanya didn't hear Mary Stuart come up behind her, or see the look of

devastation in her eyes as she looked around her.

"I never come in here anymore," she said in a whisper that made Tanya

jump, and she turned to see the ravaged look in her friend's eyes and

instinctively put her arms around her.� Tanya didn't think she should

have left the room that way.� It was like a shrine to him, and just

knowing it was there, so close to her every day, had to be incredibly

painful.� There was a wonderful photograph of him on the desk, with two

friends from school.� Tanya had forgotten how exactly he looked like

his mother when he smiled, but now she remembered, and it made her cry

to see it.

"Oh, Mary Stuart," she said as tears filled her eyes too, "I'm so sorry

. . . I opened the wrong door, and I just kind of fell in here .� .

."

The boy's mother smiled through her tears and pulled away, standing

next to Tanya and staring at the same picture.� "He was so wonderful,

Tanny .� . . he was such a terrific kid .� . . he always did the right

thing .� . . he was always the star, the boy everyone wanted to be, the

kid everyone fell in love with...."� There were tears slowly rolling

down her cheeks and Tanya stood staring at the picture, it was as

though she expected him to speak, or appear in the room, but they both

knew he wouldn't.

"I know.� I remember him perfectly .� . . he looked so much like you,"

Tanya said in a soft voice.

"I still can't believe it happened," Mary Stuart said, looking at

Tanny, and then sitting on the bed.� She hadn't done that since

Christmas.� She had come in here alone, late on Christmas Eve, and lay

on his bed, clutching his pillow, and cried for hours.� As usual, she

hadn't dared tell Bill she'd been in there.� He had told her once

before that he thought the room should be kept locked, but when she

asked him what he thought she should do with Todd's things, he had told

her to do whatever she wanted.� And she hadn't had the heart to take

any of it apart.� She just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Shouldn't you put his things away?"� Tanya asked her sadly.� She could

only imagine how difficult it would be, but she wondered if it would be

healthier for them.� Or maybe they should think about selling the

apartment.� But she didn't dare say that.

"I just couldn't," Mary Stuart answered her.� "I just can't nut his

things away," she said, and tears rolled down her cheeks all over

again, thinking of the child who had once lived there.� "I miss him so

terribly .� . . we all do.� Bill doesn't say anything, but I know he

must too.� It's killing him .� . . it's killing all of us .� .."� She

knew how it hurt Alyssa too.� She had seen her go into his room once.

And she didn't think it was a complete mystery why she wanted to stay

in Paris.� Who could blame her for that?� Coming home was pretty

depressing, and for the moment, there was no relief in sight.� Neither

she nor Bill seemed to have recovered.

"It wasn't your fault," Tanya suddenly said firmly, taking her friend

by both arms, and looking into her eyes with a sense of purpose.� It

was as though she was meant to be here.� "You have to believe that.

You couldn't have stopped him once he made his mind up."

"How could I not see what was happening to him?� How could I love him

so much and miss it completely?"� Mary Stuart knew she would never

forgive herself for what she hadn't seen and what had happened.

"He didn't want you to see it.� He was a grown man, he had a right to

keep his own secrets.� He didn't want you to know, or he would have

told you.� You're not expected to know everything, to see into

someone's mind.

You couldn't have known, Mary Stuart, you have to believe that."� What

Tanya couldn't believe was that Bill had tortured her for the past year

and hadn't released her from her own guilt.� Instead, he had confirmed

it to her, both by his actions and by his silence.

"I'll always think it was my fault," Mary Stuart said sadly, but Tanya

would not let her go. �She was determined to free her from the hooks

that held her.� It was the ultimate act of friendship, and a matter of

Mary Stuart's survival.

"You're not that important," she said quietly.� "As much as he loved

you, you weren't that important to him.� He had his own life, his own

friends, his own dreams, his own disappointments, his own tragedies.

You couldn't have made him do it if you wanted to, and you couldn't

have made him not do it, no matter how much you wanted to.� Not unless

he had come to you, and begged you to stop him.� And he would never

have done that, he was too private a person, just like you are."� Tanya

was very serious as she looked her in the eye, determined to help her

friend now.

"But I would never do anything like that," Mary Stuart said, still

staring at her son's picture, as though she could still ask him why it

had happened.� But they all knew why now.� It was so pathetically

simple.

The girl he had loved for four years had died in a car accident, on an

icy New Jersey road four months before, and he had quietly sunk into an

ever deeper depression.� No one had realized how depressed he was, or

the full extent of his despair after she died.� They had thought he was

coming out of it at Easter.� But in retrospect, Mary Stuart had

realized that he only seemed happier at Easter because he had probably

decided to do it when he went back after the vacation.� He had been so

close to his mother then.� They had gone for a long walk in the park,

and talked philosophically and laughed, he had even talked in vague

terms about his future.� He told her he knew now he would always be

happy.� And then he did it, the night he went back.� He committed

suicide two weeks before his twentieth birthday, in his room in

Princeton.� The boy in the next room had found him.� He had come in to

borrow something and he had found Todd in bed, asleep, and something

about the way he lay there aroused suspicion.� He had checked him

immediately and administered CPR, until the police and the fire

department came.� But they said later that Todd had been dead for

several hours when the boy found him.� He had left a note to each of

them, telling them that he felt so peaceful and so calm, and so happy

at last.� He said it was cowardly of him, he knew, and he regretted any

pain he would cause them, but he simply couldn't live without Natalie

anymore.� He said he had truly tried.� And he hoped that once they

forgave him, they would be relieved to know that he and Natalie would

be together forever in Heaven.� Although his parents had said they were

too young, he had wanted to marry her, after graduation, the following

summer.� And in a sense, Todd said in his note, they were married

now.

And through it all, once they heard the news, and long afterward, Bill

had blamed Mary Stuart.� He said that she had filled his head with

foolishness and romantic notions, she had allowed him to become too

seriously involved with Natalie for the past four years, and if she

hadn't forced religion on him, he would never have had such absurd

notions of the hereafter or of God.� According to Bill, Mary Stuart

had, in fact, set the stage for disaster.� And he laid Todd's suicide

entirely on the conscience of his mother.� At the time, what he said to

her had almost killed her.� But more than anything he could have said

to her was the agony of her loss of her older child, her only son .

.

. her firstborn .� . . the child who had always been her sunshine, and

brought her so much joy and pride.

And as Tanya listened to her, she wanted to go to Bill Walker and shake

him.� His accusations were the most insane she had ever heard, and she

sensed easily that he was trying to ease his own pain, and feelings of

failure, by blaming it all on Mary Stuart.� It was so cruel, it was

almost beyond bearing.� And it was easy to see what had happened to

Mary Stuart as a result.� She was nearly dead inside.

"The poor kid."� Mary Stuart was sobbing quietly as they sat in his old

room, still trying to understand why he had done it, a whole year after

he had.� "He was so in love with her, when he got the call after

Natalie's accident, I thought it would kill him."� And in the end, it

had.� It had killed all of them.� There was nothing left of Mary Stuart

now, or Bill, or their marriage.

They had all died with Todd, the important parts of them anyway, their

hearts and their souls, and their dreams, had all died with the boy

they had so loved and had lost so unfairly.

"Have you ever gotten angry at him for all this?"� Tanya asked, and

Mary Stuart looked startled.

"With Todd?� How could I?"

"Because he hurt all of you.� Because he took something from you.

Because he chickened out when he should have had the guts to live

through it, and he should have told you how much pain he was in."

"I should have known."� Mary Stuart turned it on herself again, but

Tanya wouldn't let her do that.

"You can't know everything.� You're not a mind reader, you're just a

human being.� And you were a wonderful mother to him.� He shouldn't

have done this to you."� Mary Stuart had never even allowed herself to

think those things, and it frightened her to hear them.� "It wasn't

fair of him, and you know it.� And it's not fair of Bill to blame

you.

Maybe it's time for you to get good and mad at both of them.� They've

put an awful lot on your back, Mary Stuart."

For a long moment, she didn't say a word as she looked at Tanya.� "I've

felt it was my fault since the night he died."

"I know you have.� But that was kind of convenient for everyone, wasn't

it?� Maybe even now, Todd needs to take responsibility for what he

did.

Maybe you need to give that back to him, and tell Bill what you

think.

You can't just silently accept all the guilt and all the burden of what

happened.� Todd goes down in history as a hero, and not a poor, sick,

foolish kid who did an incredibly stupid thing we'll all regret

forever.

But whatever it was, for whatever reason, maybe that was his destiny.

And it is what happened.� It can't be changed now.� You can't take it

back, or make it your decision, or your fault.� It was all his doing.

And Bill has no right to blame you, that's how he absolved himself.� It

was all your fault, so he could be free to be angry and miserable and

rotten.� Mary Stuart, you're not the responsible party here, you're the

scapegoat."

"I know," she said softly.� "I figured that out a while back, but it

doesn't change anything.� Bill will never admit it.� As far as he's

concerned, it's all my fault."

"Then maybe you should leave him.� Or are you going to let him punish

you for the rest of your life?� Are you going to stay on your knees for

the next forty or fifty years, whispering me culpa'?� That's a long

time to feel guilty.� You're way too young for that."� Listening to her

was like having someone pull the drapes back in a dark room and let in

huge splashes of sunshine.� She had been sitting in a dark corner for a

year, lost in the gloom, and grieving.� And it was odd sitting in this

room while they talked about it.� It was almost as though Todd was with

them.

And listening to Tanya speak to her suddenly made it all seem very

different.� She wanted to be angry at Bill, wanted to shout at him, and

to shake him.� How could he be so stupid?� How could he have destroyed

their marriage?

"I don't know what to think anymore, Tan.� It's been so confusing.� And

poor Alyssa, it must have been a nightmare coming home for Christmas

last year.� We were all such a mess, she couldn't wait to go back to

Paris."� In the end, she had left four days early.� And that had made

her mother feel even more guilty.

"You've got years to make it up to her.� What you have to do is think

of yourself, and what you need.� You can't keep letting Bill do this to

you.� You have to find your peace over what happened.� You have to have

a long talk with yourself, and with your son, and see what you come up

with.� And then you have to talk to Bill.� He's gotten out of this

pretty easy so far."

"I don't think he has," Mary Stuart said wisely.� "I think it's so

painful for him that he's hidden behind a wall of ice until he was

completely numb.� I think he's terrified to come out now.

"If he doesn't, he'll destroy you and your marriage."� If he hadn't

already.� Tanya wasn't sure how much her friend could salvage, but at

least she was thinking about it.� And Tanya was glad she had ventured

into Todd's room and been in it with her.

"Thank you, Tanny," Mary Stuart said, standing up again, and Tanya put

an arm around her shoulders.� Mary Stuart pulled open the curtains

then, and the room filled with light, as she looked around her.� "He

was a great kid.� I still can't believe he's gone."

"In some ways, he isn't," Tanya said softly, "we'll all remember him

forever."� There were tears in their eyes as they left the room, arm in

arm, and walked slowly back to the kitchen.� Tanya had another cup of

tea and then went back to her hotel to dress for the party.� And after

she left, Mary Stuart took another look into Todd's room, closed the

curtains, and then quietly closed the door, and went back to her own

room.� Maybe Tanya was right.� Maybe it wasn't all her fault.� Maybe it

was Todd's fault and no one else's.� But she still couldn't bring

herself to be angry at him.� It was so much easier to be angry at his

father.� Just as it was easier for Bill to blame Mary Stuart, and not

himself, for not anticipating what had happened.

And she was still sitting and thinking about it when Alyssa called and

they chatted for a little while, and she told her about Tanya's visit,

but not about their conversation in her brother's bedroom.� She told

her Tanya had invited her to a party given by Felicia Davenport, but

she was thinking of not going.� She was feeling emotionally drained by

their conversation.� But Alyssa was outraged at the thought of her

losing out on an opportunity like that.

"Are you crazy?� You'll never get another chance like that, Mom.� Go.

Get dressed.� I'm hanging up now so you can get ready.� Wear the black

chiffon Valentino."

"The one you wear all the time?"� she teased, but it had been wonderful

talking to her.� She had always been close to her daughter, but after

Todd's death they had grown even closer.� And in many ways Alyssa had

been there for her mother.� She wanted to apologize for being so

depressing for such a long time, but she didn't want to bring up

painful subjects.� Instead, she hung up, and forced herself to bathe

and dress and put on the Valentino.� It was a pretty dress, and she

looked subdued and elegant as she put on high heels, and brushed her

hair till it shone.� And she had very carefully put on makeup.� She put

on diamond earrings that Bill had given her years before, and as she

looked in the mirror, she smiled.� She looked all right, she decided,

maybe even slightly better than that, but it felt odd to be going out

without her husband.

Tanya called and made arrangements to pick Mary Stuart up.� She was

waiting downstairs when the limousine came, and Mary Stuart slipped

inside and looked impressed when she saw Tanya.� She was wearing a

loose, nearly see-through pink chiffon blouse, over black satin pants

that showed off her trainer's hard work and her spectacular figure.

She had on high-heeled black satin pumps, and her blond hair stood out

like a huge mane.� She looked incredibly beautiful and very sexy, but

her assessment of Mary Stuart was satisfactory too.

"You look so elegant," she said admiringly, there was a quality about

Mary Stuart that she had always envied.� Everything about her was so

completely perfect, down to the very last detail, the last hair, the

last nail.� She had sensational legs, and great hair, and tonight, for

the first time in a year, her big, warm, brown eyes looked a little

less haunted.� "You look great."

"You're sure I won't disgrace you?"� Tanya asked shyly.

"Hardly.� You'll have to be kicking the men away all night."� She

grinned, and then raised an eyebrow.� "Unless of course you don't want

to."� But Mary Stuart shook her head at that.� She wasn't looking for

anyone else.� Not yet, at any rate.� And more than likely never.� But

she didn't like feeling that part of her life was entirely over, and

for the past year it certainly had been, and in spite of her talk with

Tanya in Todd's room that afternoon, for the moment, there was

certainly no light at the end of the tunnel.� But it just felt good to

be dressed up again, and going out, and meeting new people.� And the

party, when they got there, was better than they'd expected.

Felicia Davenport was wonderful and warm and hospitable to both of

them, and she and Mary Stuart spent a long time talking about New York

and theater and even children.� Mary Stuart loved her.� She was a

fascinating woman, and obviously a great friend to Tanya.� Tanya spent

most of the evening surrounded by men, and Mary Stuart had her fair

share of admirers as well.� She let everyone know she was married, and

her wedding ring was plainly visible, but she had several very

interesting conversations, and the whole evening was good for her

ego.

She felt great when they finally left, and Tanya offered to take her

out for hamburgers again, but she really thought she should get home.

She didn't want to push her new independence, and set Bill off.

Tanya dropped her off at home, and Mary Stuart invited her up, but she

said she wanted to get back to the hotel and make some calls and relax,

since Mary Stuart didn't want to go out to dinner.

"Thank you for a great time .� . . for a lot of things .� .."� Mary

Stuart smiled at her gratefully.� "As usual, you saved my life.� It's

funny how you always do that."

"I don't do anything except turn up once a year like a bad penny.� "

"You take care of yourself now, you hear," Mary Stuart scolded her, and

they both laughed and then hugged, and Mary Stuart stood on the

sidewalk and waved until the limousine disappeared, and as she turned

and walked inside, she felt like Cinderella.� Tanya's visits always

transformed her life while she was there, and they always reminded her

of what good friends they had been, still were, and probably always

would be.� It was a good thing to remember.� And she felt better than

she had in months, maybe over a year.� Tanya's timing couldn't have

been better.� And even though she was having problems herself, she had

still managed to give so much to Mary Stuart.

"Mr. Walker just went upstairs," the elevator man announced when she

walked in, and a moment later she was in the apartment, and she saw him

walk into their bedroom.� He heard her come in, but he didn't turn

around and look at her.� It was like a slap in the face as she saw him

walk away from her and refuse to see her.

"Hello, Bill," she said as she walked into the room shortly after him,

and only then did he acknowledge her, as he glanced over his

shoulder.

He was holding his briefcase.

"I didn't see you come in," he said, but she knew he had heard her.� He

hadn't wanted to see her.� He was the master of denial and rejection.

"How was the party?"

"Very interesting.� I met a lot of very intelligent people, it was kind

of refreshing.� Felicia Davenport was wonderful, and I liked most of

her friends.� I had a good time," she said, without apology for once.

She suddenly didn't feel that she needed to crawl to him, to beg his

forgiveness for her unforgivable failure.� It was an odd thing to

think, but it was as though that afternoon, Tanya had freed her.� "It's

too bad you couldn't make it."

"I left the office twenty minutes ago, while you were playing," he said

unkindly, but he smiled as he said it.� "We're leaving for London in

three days."� It was almost two weeks earlier than he'd planned.

"That's a lot earlier than you said, not just a few days," she chided

him, but she felt punished again, and abandoned.� There was no real

reason why she couldn't stay in London with him.� But he had long since

made it clear to her that that was out of the question.� He didn't want

her there while he was working.� It was yet another way he kept his

distance from her, to punish her for her transgressions.

"I'll see you when you come over with Alyssa," he said, as though

reading what was in her head.� But two days in three months was hardly

sufficient to sustain a marriage, particularly when there was no real

reason for her not to be there, except that he didn't want her, which

was the only reason that would keep her away from London.� After her

trip with Alyssa she would spend the rest of the summer in New York

alone.

And for a crazy moment, she thought of flying to California for a few

days to visit Tanya.� She had nothing else to do, and most of her

boards and charities would be on hiatus for the summer.� It was a

thought, at least, although she knew full well she'd probably never do

it.

A moment later, Bill disappeared into the bathroom and came out in his

pajamas.� He didn't even seem to notice her, or the dress she wore, or

how pretty she looked.� It was as though she had stopped being a woman

for him the moment their son died.

She went into the bathroom after that, and slowly took the Valentino

dress off, and with it went the illusion of her being either attractive

or independent.� She came out in her dressing gown, and Bill had his

back to her again, and she saw that he was reading some papers.� And

before she could stop herself, it was as though a force deep inside her

made her confront him.� She spoke very clearly and very quietly in the

room, and even she was surprised by her own words, but not as startled

as he was.

"I'm not going to do this forever, Bill."� She stood there for a moment

after she said it, and slowly he turned and looked at her, holding his

glasses in his hand with a look of amazement.

"What exactly does that mean?"� He was the trial attorney at his most

daunting, but she refused to be intimidated by him this time.� The

things Tanya had said had given her courage.

"It means exactly what I just said.� I am not going to live like this

forever.� I can't do it.� You never speak to me.� You act as though I

don't exist.� You ignore me, you shun me, you reject me, and now you're

going to London for three months, or two at least, and you expect me to

be satisfied with a two-day visit.� This isn't a marriage anymore.� It

is slavery, and people must have been a lot nicer to their slaves than

you are."

It was the most outrageous thing she had ever said to him, certainly in

the past year, and he did not look pleased with what he was hearing.

"Do you think I'm going over for pleasure?� You seem to have forgotten

I'll be working."� His tone was glacial.

"You seem to have forgotten we're married."� He knew exactly what she

meant, and she did not need to explain it further.

"This has been a very difficult year.� For both of us."� They had

recently passed the anniversary of Todd's death, and that had only

seemed to make it harder.

"I feel as though we died with him," Mary Stuart said sadly as she

looked at her husband, but she was relieved that they were at least

speaking.� "And our marriage with us."

"That's not necessarily true.� I think we both need time," he said, but

she could see that he wasn't being honest, neither with her nor

himself.

He thought it was all going to fix itself one day, and Mary Stuart

could have told him it wasn't.� It was going to take a lot more now

than just waiting.

"It's been a year, Bill," she reminded him, wondering how far he would

be willing to be pushed.� She suspected not much farther.

"I'm aware of that," he said, and then there was silence.� "I'm aware

of many things.� I did not know, however, that you were planning on

issuing ultimatums."� He was not pleased by any means with her opening

statement.

"It wasn't intended as that.� It was information.� Even if I wanted to

do this indefinitely, I don't think I could."

"You can do anything you want to."

"Then maybe I don't want to.� I don't want to be treated like a piece

of furniture for the rest of my life.� This isn't a marriage, it's a

nightmare."� It was the first time she had told him.� And this time he

said nothing, he simply turned his back on her again, put his glasses

back on, and concentrated on his reading.� "I can't believe you're

going to ignore me again after what I just said to you."

He spoke to her with his back to her, and it was hard to remember,

watching him, that there had been warmth or love or laughter between

them.� It was harder still to believe that she had been deeply in love

with him, and he was the father of their children.� "I have nothing

more to say to you," he said, as he read on.� "I've heard your

statement, and I have no further comment."

He was being unbelievable, and she couldn't help wondering if he was so

frightened and in so much pain that he was simply frozen.� But whatever

it was, and however it had come, she had finally faced the fact that

she couldn't stand it for much longer.

She went to bed, and he turned off the light, and he never turned back

to her again, or said another word to her, and she lay in bed that

night in the dark for a long time thinking of Tanya and the people she

had met at Felicia's party.� Even at forty-four, there was a life out

there for her, and people who were willing to talk to her, and show a

little interest.� It was as though Tanya had opened a window for her,

and she had dared to look outside for the first time in ages.� It was

all very intriguing, and she had no idea what to do now.� And after

hearing what she had said to him that night, neither did her husband.

They were trapped on opposite sides of what had become the Grand

Canyon, and had once been their marriage.

For the next three days, Bill and Mary Stuart's paths rarely seemed to

cross.� He worked until nearly midnight every night, and it was

beginning to feel as though he lived at the office.� But Mary Stuart

was used to it now.� She had been more or less alone all year, and this

really wasn't any different.� The only change in the past week was that

she no longer had to cook dinner.� She was getting thinner as a result,

and in the past Bill would have worried about her, but as things were

now, he didn't even notice.

And on the day before he was scheduled to leave, Mary Stuart called him

at the office, to see if he wanted her to pack for London.� She assumed

he would, as he had never packed for himself before, but he said he was

coming home that afternoon to do it.

"Are you sure?"� She was surprised, it was as though she didn't know

him anymore.� Nothing he did, or wanted from her, was the same as it

once had been.� But their son had died, and as far as he was concerned,

it was her fault, or at least that was her reading of the situation.

And as far as she was concerned, they were no longer the same people.

"I don't mind packing for you."

It seemed the least she could do, and it would keep her busy.� She was

still trying to absorb the fact that her husband was leaving for two or

three months.� It had only just that day really hit her.� With the

exception of her trip with Alyssa, she was going to be alone for the

entire summer.

And in some ways, it scared her.� It underlined the distance between

them that he didn't want her staying with him in London.� He claimed it

would be too boring for her, and it would distract him.� But in years

past, there would never have been a moment's doubt about her going.� "I

don't mind packing for you," she said again on the phone, but he

insisted that he needed to pick his clothes himself, as he wanted to be

very careful about what he wore in court in London.

"I'll be home at four," he explained, sounding pressed.� Leaving his

office for several months was complicated, and there were a million

details to think of.� He was taking one of his assistants with him, and

had she been younger and more attractive than she was, Mary Stuart

would have come to the obvious conclusion.� As it was, she was a

heavyset, intelligent, but very unattractive woman in her early

sixties.

"Do you want dinner at home, or would you rather go out tonight?"� Mary

Stuart asked, feeling depressed, but trying to make it sound festive.

It was as though there was no pretense between them anymore, not even

the illusion of closeness, and it somehow seemed more acute now that he

was leaving.

"I'll just grab something out of the fridge," he said absently, "don't

go to any trouble."� They had both come to hate their awkward, silent

dinners, and she had been relieved when he preferred staying at the

office, and working late.� And as a result, they had both gotten

thinner.

"I'll get something cold at William Poll or Fraser Morris," she said,

and went out to do some errands.� She had to buy a book she knew he

wanted for the plane, and pick up all of his dry cleaning.� And as she

hurried east toward Lexington she was suddenly glad that she was

leaving in a few weeks.� Despite the chasrm between them now, it was

going to be incredibly lonely without him.

She picked up some dinner at William Poll, got the book and some

magazines, some candy and gum, and she had all of his clean shirts

hanging in his dressing room for him when he got home from the office

at four-thirty.� And he went straight to his packing, without saying a

word to her.� He was busy taking suitcases out of storage bins high

above his closet.� And she didn't see him again until seven o'clock

when he appeared in the kitchen.� He was still wearing his starched

white shirt from work, but he had taken his tie off, and his hair was a

little ruffled.� It made him look young suddenly, and the painful part

of it was that he looked so much like Todd now, but she tried valiantly

to ignore it.

"All packed?� I would have been happy to do it for you," she said

softly, setting out dinner on the table.� It had been another hot day,

and it was nice having cold meats to put out, and not having to cook

dinner.

"I didn't want to give you a lot of trouble," he said, sitting down on

a high stool at the white granite kitchen counter.� "I don't give you

much happiness anymore, it doesn't seem fair to give you the work and

the grief, and not much else.� At least I can stay out of your hair and

make things easy."� It was the first time he had even acknowledged

their situation, and she stared at him in amazement.� When she had even

tried to say something to him a few days before, she had met a wall,

and he had completely ignored her.� She wondered now if he had actually

heard her.

"I don't expect you to stay out of my hair," she said, as she sat down

across from him, and her eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate.� He

had always loved looking at her, loved her looks, and her style, and

the expressiveness of her eyes, but the pain he had seen there for the

last year had been too much to bear, and it was easier to avoid her.

"Marriage isn't about keeping your distance.� It's about sharing."� And

they had.� They had shared joy for nearly twenty-one years, and endless

grief for the last year.� The trouble was that they hadn't really

shared it.� They had each grieved silently in their separate corners.

"We haven't shared much of anything lately, have we?"� he said sadly.

"I guess I've been too busy at the office."� But it wasn't that, and

they both knew it.� She said nothing as she watched him, and he reached

out slowly and touched her hand.� It was the first gesture of its kind

in months, and there were tears in her eyes as she felt his fingers.

"I've missed you," she said in a whisper, but all he did was nod.� He

had felt it too, but he couldn't bring himself to say it to her.

"I'm going to miss you while you're away," she said quietly.� It was

the first time in their marriage they would be apart for that long.

But he had been so adamant about her not going with him.� "It's such a

long time."

"It'll go quickly.� You'll come over next month with Alyssa, and I hope

to be home by the end of August."

"We'll be together two days in two months," she said, looking at him in

despair, and slowly pulling her hand away from his.� "That's not

exactly the stuff of which marriages are usually made, at least not

good ones.

I could stay at the hotel and fend for myself during the day."� They

had enough friends in London to keep her busy night and day for months,

and he knew that.� And it felt awkward suddenly to be begging him to

let her be there.

"It will be just too distracting," he said unhappily, they had been

over it before and he had been definite about it with her.� He did not

want her coming to London, other than for a brief weekend with their

daughter.

"I've never distracted you before," she said, feeling like the

supplicant again, and hating both herself and him for it.� "Anyway .

.

.

it's a long time .� . . that's all.� I think we both know that."� His

eyes suddenly bore into hers, and tllere was a question in his eyes as

he watched her.

"What do you mean by that?"� For the first time, he actually looked

worried.� He was an attractive man, and she was sure that there would

be plenty of women running after him in London.� But she couldn't

imagine that he was worrying about her.� She had always been the

perfect wife, but he had also never left her for an entire summer,

after a year like this one.

"I mean that two months is a long time, especially after the year we've

just had.� You're leaving for two months, maybe more .� . . I'm not

exactly sure what I'm supposed to think abcat it, Bill."� She looked

worried as she watched him, and then he startled her even further.

"Neither am I. I just thought .� . . maybe .� . . we could use some

time apart, to get a grip on things again, to figure out what we do

now, and how we put back all the pieces."� She was amazed to hear him

say it.� She hadn't even been sure he would have been willing to

acknowledge how totally they'd come apart in the last year, let alone

the fact that they needed to put the pieces back together.

"I don't see how being apart for two months is going to bring us any

closer," she said matter-of-factly.

"It might help clear our minds.� I don't know .� . . I just know that I

needed to be away from you, to think about something else for a change,

to lose myself in work."� She was startled when he looked up at her,

and she saw tears in his eyes.� She hadn't seen him cry since the day

they'd picked Todd's body up at Princeton.� Even at the funeral, he had

looked stern, and she had never seen him cry since.� He had been hiding

behind his wall for all this time, and this was the first time he'd

ventured out from behind it.� Maybe he was upset about leaving too.� At

least that was something.� "I wanted to be alone to work over there,

Mary Stuart.

It's just that .� .."� His lips trembled as his eyes filled with

tears, and she reached for his hand again and held it gently.� "Every

time I look at you .� . . I think of him .� . . it's as though we're

all irreversibly bound to each other.� I needed to get away from it, to

stop thinking about him, and what we should have done or known or said,

or how things could have been different.� It's almost driven me out of

my mind.� I thought London might be a good way to change that.� I

thought leaving you behind might be good for both of us.� You must feel

the same way about me whenever you see me."

She smiled through her own tears then, touched but dismayed by what he

was saying.� "You look so much like him.� When you came into the

kitchen a little while ago, you startled me for a moment."

He nodded.� He understood perfectly.� They were both haunted.� He was

sick of the apartment, the occasional mail that still came for Todd,

the room he knew was there but never stepped into.� Even Alyssa looked

like Todd at times, and he had had his mother's eyes and smile.� It was

all so unbearably painful.

"We can't run away from each other to escape the memory of our son,"

Mary Stuart said sadly.� "Then it's a double loss for us, we not only

lose him, we lose each other."� In fact, they already had, and they

both knew it.

"Will you be all right while I'm gone?"� he asked, feeling guilty for

the first time.� He had told himself it was so sensible leaving her.

He was going to London to work, after all.� But in fact, he had been

relieved at the opportunity to escape her, and now it seemed awkward

and stupid, yet he didn't want to change it and take her with him.

"I'll be fine," she said with more nobility than truth.� What choice

did she have now?� To tell him she'd sit home and cry every day?� That

it was more than she could take?� It wasn't.� She was almost used to

it.� In fact, Bill had abandoned her when Todd died, emotionally

anyway, and now he was just taking his body with him.� She had been

alone for a year, in truth two more months wouldn't make much

difference.

"You can call me whenever you have a problem.� Maybe you should stay in

Europe with Alyssa for a while."� She felt like an aging aunt being

foisted off on relatives or sent on cruises.� But she knew she would be

better off at home, than languishing alone in hotels around Europe.

"Alyssa is going to Italy with friends, she has her own plans."� And so

did he.� They all did.� Even Tanya had her trip to Wyoming with Tony's

children.� Everyone had something to do, except for her.� All she had

was a short trip with Alyssa, and he expected her to spend the rest of

the summer waiting.� It was extraordinarily presumptuous of him, but

given what their life had become, it no longer surprised her.

They picked at the food she'd bought without much appeWite, talked

about some things she needed to know, about their maintenance, an

insurance premium that he was waiting for, and what mail he wanted her

to send him.� He was expecting her to pay the bills and take care of

most of it.� He would have precious little spare time while he worked

on the case in London.� And after they'd talked for a while, he went

back to their bedroom, and packed the rest of his papers.� He was in

the bathroom taking a shower, when she came in, and when he walked into

the bedroom, he was wearing a robe and his hair was damp.� He smelled

of soap and aftershave, and for a moment, seeing him that way gave her

a jolt.� He seemed to be relaxing with her a little bit now that he was

leaving.� She wondered if it was because he was sorry to go and it made

him feel closer to her suddenly, or if on the contrary he was so

relieved it made him careless.

And when they went to bed that night, he didn't move close to her, but

somehow, even at a distance, he seemed less rigid There were things she

would have liked to say to him, about how she felt, and what she still

wanted from him, but she sensed that despite the slight warming of the

cold war, he was not yet ready for her to bear her soul, or tell him

how she was feeling about their marriage.� She was feeling bereft these

days, incredibly sad, and oddly cheated.� She had been cheated out of a

son, and Todd in turn had been robbed, or robbed himself, of his

future.� But it was as though when the spirits took him away, they took

his parents with them.� It would have been nice to be able to say that

to Bill openly, but knowing that she would barely see him for the next

two months, she didn't think it was the time, or that he was ready.

And as she lay on the other side of the bed, thinking about him, Bill

fell asleep without saying another word, or putting an arm around

her.

He had said all he was able to say for now, earlier in the kitchen .

And when he got up the next day, he was in a hurry to get organized.

He called the office, closed his bags, showered and shaved, and

scarcely had time to glance at the paper over breakfast.� She had made

eggs and cereal for him, and the whole wheat toast he ate every day,

and then gone to get dressed herself, and she appeared in a black linen

pantsuit and a black-and-white striped T-shirt.� As usual, she looked

like a magazine ad when he saw her.

"Do you have a meeting today?"� he asked, glancing over the paper.

"No," she said quietly.� There was a pain in the pit of her stomach.

"You're awfully dressed just to sit around at home.� Are you going out

to lunch?"� She couldn't help wondering why he cared, he was leaving

for two months anyway.� What difference did it make what she did now?

"I didn't want to take you to the airport in blue jeans," she said, and

with that, he raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't expecting you to take me.� I have a limo coming at

ten-thirty.

I'm giving Mrs. Anderson a ride.� They're picking her up first, and

actually Bob Miller is coming too.� We were going to do some work in

the car on the way to the airport."� They couldn't bear to lose a

single moment.� The human robots.� Or was it just an excuse to get away

from her sooner?

"I don't have to go if you'd rather not," she said quietly, and he

picked up the paper again and went back to reading.

"I don't think it makes much sense.� It'll be simpler to say good-bye

here."� And less embarrassing.� God forbid someone would ever think he

loved her.� Or did he?� The faint humanity he had shown in the same

room only the night before seemed to have disappeared, the wall was up

again, and he was hiding not only behind it, but also behind the

paper.

"I'm sure you have better things to do today.� The airport is a mess

this time of year, it'll take you hours to get back into the city."� He

smiled at her then, but there was no warmth in it.� It was the kind of

smile you'd bestow on a stranger.� She nodded, and said nothing, and

when he got up, she put their dishes in the sink, and tried to keep

herself from crying.� It was so strange watching him leave, going

through all the procedures and plans, and almost before she had come to

terms with it, he had rung for the elevator and his bags were on the

landing.� He was wearing a light gray suit and he looked unbearably

handsome.� And it had been tacitly decided by then, she was not going

to the airport.� She stood in the doorway watching him as the elevator

man took his bags, and then took a discreet step back so he couldn't

see them.

"I'll call you," Bill said, looking like a kid again, and she had to

fight back tears as she watched him.� She wanted to tell him that she

couldn't believe he was leaving, without a single loving gesture to

her.

"Take care of yourself," she said awkwardly.

"I'll miss you," he said, and then bent to kiss her cheek, and without

meaning to, she put her arms around him.

"I'm sorry .� . . about everything .� .."� About Todd, about the past

year, about the fact that he felt he needed a two-month break from her

while he worked in Europe.� About the fact that their marriage was in

shards around their feet.� There was so much to be sorry for, it was

hard to remember all of it, but he knew what she was saying.

"It's all right.� It'll be all right, Stu .� .."� He hadn't called her

that all year.� But would it?� She no longer believed that.� And they

would be apart for two months now.� She knew instinctively that they

would only get farther apart from it, not closer.� He was so foolish to

think this was what they needed.� If anything, it would make the gap

unbridgeable in future.

He took a step back from her then, without kissing her, and looked down

at her with immeasurable sadness.� "I'll see you in a few weeks."� All

she could do was nod as the tears began to course down her cheeks and

the elevator operator waited.

"I love you," she whispered as he turned away, and then he turned as he

heard her.� But he only looked at her, and nodded, and then the

elevator door closed silently behind him.� He hadn't answered.

When Mary Stuart walked back into the apartment, the force of her

loneliness took her breath away.� She couldn't believe how awful it had

felt to see him go, and know that he wouldn't be home for months, that

she wouldn't even see him except for a few days with her daughter.� At

least she had that, but even so, it felt like the end of their

marriage.

No matter what he said, the fact that he needed time away from her, and

that he was no longer able to respond to her in any way, told its own

story.

She sat on the couch and cried for a while, feeling sorry for herself,

and then she walked slowly into the kitchen.� She put the dishes in the

dishwasher, and put the rest of his breakfast away, and when the phone

rang she almost didn't answer.� She thought it might be Bill calling

from the car, telling her he had forgotten something, or maybe even

that he loved her.� But when she answered, it was her daughter.

"Hi, sweetheart."� Mary Stuart tried to sound brighter than she felt.

She didn't want to tell Alyssa how unhappy she was that her father had

left.� They had had enough unhappiness without Mary Stuart complaining

about her marriage, particularly to her daughter.� "How's Paris?"

"Beautiful and hot and romantic," she said.� It was a new word in her

vocabulary, and Mary Stuart smiled, wondering if there was a new man in

her life.� Maybe even a young Frenchman.

"Am I allowed to ask why?"� she said cautiously, still smiling.

"Oh, it just is.� Paris is so wonderful.� I love it here.� I never want

to leave."� But she was going to have to in a few weeks.

They were giving up her apartment when Mary Stuart came to Paris.

"I can't blame you for that," she said, glancing at Central Park from

her kitchen window.� It was pretty and green too, but it was also

filthy and full of muggers and bums, and it was definitely not Paris.

"I can't wait to see you," she said, trying not to think of Bill

leaving an hour before.� By then, he would have been at the airport.

But she doubted that he'd call her.� There was nothing to say, and she

had made him too uncomfortable with her display of emotions.� She had

gotten the message very clearly.

But at Alyssa's end there was a strange silence.� Her mother hadn't

even noticed.

"Have you gotten organized a little bit?"� Mary Stuart had asked her to

get some maps together for their driving trips.� That part of the trip

was Alyssa's assignment.� The rest had been taken care of by Bill's

office.� "Did you get the maps of the Maritime Alps?� I heard about a

great little hotel just outside Florence."� But still there was no

sound from her daughter.� "Alyssa?� Are you all right?� Is something

wrong?"� Was there a problem?� Was she in love?� Was she crying?� But

when she spoke again, Mary Stuart could hear that she wasn't.� She just

sounded very awkward.

"Mom .� . . I have a problem .� .."

Oh, my God.� "Are you pregnant?"� She was nearly twenty years old and

it would have been a calamity Mary Stuart would have preferred not to

face, but if she had to, she would go through it with her.

But Alyssa was outraged at the suggestion.� "Mom, for God's sake!� Of

course not!"

"Well, excuse me.� How should I know?� So what's the problem?"

Alyssa took a deep breath and launched into a long, complicated tale

that sounded like one of the stories she had told in third grade that

went on forever and had no ending.� What it boiled down to finally was

that a group of her friends were going to the Netherlands and they

wanted her to go with them.� It was a rare opportunity, and they would

travel into Switzerland and Germany, staying with friends, or at youth

hostels, and then Italy, where she had planned to meet them later.� But

the whole earlier part of the trip had just been organized, and as far

as Alyssa was concerned, it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

"That sounds great.� But I still don't understand the problem.� "

Alyssa sighed.� Her mother was so dense at times, but at least not

always, like her father.� "They're leaving this week.� They're going to

be traveling for two months, before we meet in Capri.� I could give up

the apartment now, and go with them except .� .."� Her voice trailed

off as Mary Stuart understood.� She no longer wanted to travel around

Europe with her mother.� It was understandable certainly, but it was

also a huge disappointment for Mary Stuart.� It was all she had in her

life at the moment.� And she had hoped for a healing trip, alone with

her only daughter, her only child now.

"I see," Mary Stuart said quietly.� "You don't want to go with me."

And then she cringed at her own words.� She hadn't meant it the way it

sounded.

"That's not it at all, Mom.� And I'll still go with you if you really

want to.� It's just .� . . I thought .� . . this is such a great

opportunity .� . . but whatever you want .� .."� She was trying to be

diplomatic about it, but she was dying to go with her friends, and Mary

Stuart knew it would be so much more fun for her.� It didn't seem fair

to stop her.

"It sounds wonderful," her mother said generously.� "I think you should

do it."

"Are you serious?� Do you mean it?� Really?"� She sounded like a little

kid, jumping up and down in her Paris apartment.� "Oh, Mom, you're the

best.� I knew you'd understand .� . . but I was afraid you'd think .

.

.

I .� .."� And then Mary Stuart suddenly understood even more, but it

didn't really shock her.

"Is there a gentleman included in this plan?"� She could hear it in her

daughter's voice, and it made her smile, although it also made her feel

nostalgic.

"Well .� . . maybe .� . . but that's not why I want to go with them.

Honestly, it's just such a great trip."

"And you're a great kid, and I love you.� You owe me a trip in the

fall.

We'll go away somewhere together for a few days before you go back to

Yale.� Is that a deal?"

"I promise."� But Mary Stuart knew it wouldn't be the same, she would

be anxious about her friends and starting school, and coming home

again.

She would be easily distracted.� The trip through France and Italy

would have been wonderful for her, but the trip through the Netherlands

with her friends would be a lot more fun for her daughter.� And Mary

Stuart had never hesitated to sacrifice herself for her children.

"How soon do you leave?"

"In two days, but I can get everything done."� They talked about how

she would ship things home, and payments that had to be made.� And Mary

Stuart needed to wire her money.� She told her to buy traveler's checks

with it, and how much to get, and they talked for a long time about the

details of Alyssa's travels.� And then her mother asked her if she was

still planning to go to London.

"I don't think so.� We weren't going to go to England at all, and when

I talked to Daddy the other night, he said he was going to be really

busy."� He was avoiding all of them, not just his wife, but his

daughter.

It was of little comfort to Mary Stuart to hear it.

When they hung up, Mary Stuart sat looking out the window for a long

time, at mothers and children hurrying toward the playground, and the

children running there while the mothers sat on benches and chatted.

She could remember those days now, as though they had happened only the

day before.� She had spent every afternoon in the park with her

children.

Some of her friends had gone to work, but she had always felt it was

more important for her to be at home, and she was lucky that she had

always been able to do it.� And now they were gone, one grown and on

her own and traveling around Europe with friends, the other to a

distant place in eternity where she hoped she would one day see him

again.� Believing that was all she had left to hold on to.

"Take care of them," she wanted to whisper to the mothers she could see

far below.� "Hold on to them while you can."� It was all so short, and

then it was over.� Like her marriage.� That was over now too.� She knew

it for sure, had for months, and had refused to see it.� But when she

thought of the way he had gone, the things he had left unsaid, and the

way he had walked away from her when she told him she loved him, there

was no longer any doubt in her mind.� And she didn't even have the

comfort of thinking it was another woman.� It was no one, it was him,

it was her, it was time, it was the fact that tragedy had struck them,

and they hadn't survived it.� It was Life.� But whatever had done it,

she knew that her marriage had died.� All she had to do now was adjust

to it.� She had two months to try freedom on for size, and see how she

liked it.

She went out for a walk that afternoon, and thought about all of it,

about Alyssa traveling with her friends, and Bill being in London for

two months, and she realized something she had always known and

somewhat feared, that in the end you're alone, just as she was now,

without them.

It was up to her to pick up the pieces, to go on, to make peace with

what Todd had done, and learn to move past it.� Tanya had been right

when she was in town, she couldn t hide from it forever.� Maybe it

wasn't her fault after all, but even if it was, she couldn't continue

to wear his death like a shroud until it killed her.

She went back to the apartment, and as she walked in, and set her

handbag down, she knew what she needed to do.� She had known it for a

long time, and she had never had the courage to do it.� She would have

preferred not to do it alone, but it was time.� It almost felt as

though he were waiting for her, as though he would have approved and

wanted her to do it.� She opened the door to his room, and stood there

for a long time, and then she opened the drapes and the blinds and let

in the sunlight.� She sat down at his desk, and began opening drawers,

and at first she felt like an intruder going through all of Todd's

papers.� There were letters and old exams, and assorted memorabilia

from his childhood, and an old note from Princeton about his eating

club initiation.� One by one, she went through his drawers, and then,

fighting back tears, she went out to the kitchen.� There was a stack of

boxes there and she brought them back to Todd's room, and as soon as

she began packing them, she started crying.

But it was almost a relief to give in to tears.� She spent hours in his

room that night, and the phone never rang.� Bill never called.� He was

supposed to land at 2,00

A.M. London time and would be at Claridge's by 3,30.� He had no idea

what she was doing, and he had told her long since to do whatever she

wanted.

It took her hours to pack his room, and when she was through there was

nothing left.� She had packed all his clothes into boxes, and kept only

a few special things, like his old Boy Scout uniform that she found put

away on a shelf, his favorite leather jacket, a sweater she had once

made him.� The rest was to be given away, and the papers and books she

was going to put in their storage vault in the basement.� She had left

all his trophies lined up on a shelf.� She wanted to find a home for

them, and she had taken all the photographs from his room, and spread

them around the apartment.� It was as though he had suddenly shared

something with them, as though he had left them a gift, yet another

memory.� She put an especially nice photograph of all of them in her

own room, and another of him in Alyssa's bedroom.� It was two o'clock

in the morning before she was through, and it was all done by then.� It

was dark outside, as she stood alone in the stark white kitchen.� She

could almost feel him next to her, she could still see his face, his

eyes, hear his voice so clearly.� Sometimes she thought she was

forgetting, but she knew she never would.� Todd was so much more than

the sum of his things to her.� None of that mattered anymore, it was

all gone, and what really mattered would be with her forever.

She took the dark green bedspreads off the beds, and put them in the

closet to send to the cleaners, and she made a mental note to change

the drapes.� She had never noticed how badly they had faded.� It was

sad looking at his old room, it seemed so empty and so bereft, with

boxes stacked everywhere all around her.� It was as though he was

moving somewhere.� But he was already long gone.� She was a year late

putting away his things.� She was a year late saying good-bye to him,

but in the important ways she had.� He would never be forgotten, and

things would never be the same again.� It seemed only a matter of time

before she would be packing the rest of the apartment.

She looked around for a last time, and gently closed his door again.

The next day, she was going to have the Goodwill pick up the things to

give away, and the service manager take the rest of the boxes down to

the basement.� And as she walked slowly back to her room, she thought

of everything that had happened in the past year, how far they had

come, and how alone they all were.� Alyssa was in Europe with her

friends, Todd was gone, and Bill was in London for the summer.� And now

she was here, putting away memories, and letting go of her older child,

her first baby.� She looked long and hard at a photograph of him as she

stood in her bedroom.� His eyes were so big and bright and clear, and

he had been laughing when she took the picture.� She could still hear

the sound of his laughter.� "Oh, come on, Mom .� . . hurry up .� .."

He was in a wet bathing suit in Cape Cod, and he'd been freezing.� He

was pretending to strangle his sister, it was all in good fun, and he

had run halfway down the beach afterward with the top of her bikini,

with Alyssa running after him, clutching a towel and screaming.� It

seemed a thousand years ago, when there was still more to her life than

just memories, and an empty apartment.

Mary Stuart didn't get to bed till several hours later, and when she

did, she lay dreaming of all of them, Alyssa was saying something and

shaking her head, and Todd was thanking her for packing his things for

him.� And when she looked up, she could see Bill in the distance,

walking away from her, and as she called after him, he never turned

around and looked at her, he just kept walking.

When Tanya got back to Los Angeles, she hadn't been sure what she would

find.� Tony had said he was moving out, but there was always the off

chance that he hadn't.� But as soon as she got home, she checked his

closets and saw that they were empty.� Jean was at the house, waiting

for her, anxious to give her the latest report, and show her the latest

horror from the tabloids.� She was in the front pages again, and as

usual the stories about the bodyguard who was suing her were

appalling.

Someone had told them that Tony had rented his own apartment, but it

was only temporary, they explained, and there were more photographs of

him with the starlet he had gone out with.� This time he had been

having dinner with her.

"It's all right .� . . it's all right .� .."� Tanya said to Jean,

looking tired.� "I know.� I've seen it."� She had picked up a copy at

the airport.

"I think I'll go to Santa Barbara for a couple of days."� She needed to

get away from there, from the photographers and the prying eyes and the

empty closets.� She didn't even have time to mourn for him, all she

could think about was how to protect herself from the media.

"You can't go," Jean said matter-of-factly, handing her four sheets of

schedules.� "You're doing a benefit tomorrow night, and you have

rehearsal for two days after that.� And you have to meet with Bennett

about the lawsuit over the weekend."

"Tell him I can't," Tanya said unhappily.� "I need a couple of days

off."� She would never have welched on a benefit or skipped

rehearsals.

But she was not about to spend her weekend with Bennett Pearson,

preparing for depositions.

"I think that's pretty firm.� They're already scheduling you for

depositions in the Leo Turner case, and Bennett said he got a call from

Tony's lawyer this morning."

"That was fast," Tanya said, dropping into a large, comfortable, pink

satin chair in her bedroom.� "He sure didn't waste much time."� It was

as though three years had vanished into thin air overnight, and now

they had to get down to business.� Sometimes she wondered if that was

all everything was.� It was all about money, greed, and business.� The

agents, the lawyers, the people selling stories about her, those who

wanted to be paid off so they wouldn't sue, the endless number of

people who thought she owed them for her success, because she'd been

fortunate and they'd been less so.

"I need a day to myself," she said to her secretary quietly, and no one

in her world had any idea how much she meant it.� She just couldn't do

it anymore, couldn't go on, couldn't keep plugging and smiling and

singing and working, for all of them.� Sometimes she felt as though she

worked only to pay them.� There was no life left anymore.� It was just

work and payments.

"He thinks he can buy Leo off for five hundred grand," Jean said,

pressing on, and she still had an armful of appointments and clippings,

but Tanya was looking grim, and the secretary hadn't noticed.

"Fuck Leo.� And you can tell Bennett I said so."

Jean nodded and went on, while Tanya wished she would drop through the

floor, but Jean was not only thorough, she was relentless.� "We got a

call from the L.A. Times today.� They want to know the details of the

divorce, if Tony wants alimony or a settlement or both, and if you're

going to give it to him."

"Was that from his lawyer or the paper?"� Tanya looked confused and

upset.� There was certainly no such thing as privacy in her life, or

decency, or anything even remotely human.

"It was the paper, and Tony called.� He wants to talk to you about the

children."

"What about them?"� She lay her head back against the chair and closed

her eyes, as Jean sat down across from her and went on.� She never

missed a beat.� And she still had to tell Tanya about all her new

appointments.

An attorney, an accountant, a decorator who thought she should redo the

house, an architect who was going to help her alter the kitchen at the

beach house.� Everyone had to be paid and met with and listened to, and

if they somehow decided she had fallen short of their expectations of

her, they would sue her.� It was just the way things were, and Tanya

knew it.� And it didn't matter that Tanya's lawyer made them all sign

confidentiality agreements, assuring her that they would not sell

information to the tabloids.� "Why does Tony want to talk to me about

the kids?"� she asked Jean again, who went back in her notes and

checked.� She worked a ten- or twelve-hour day sometimes.� It was not

an easy job, but she was well paid, and most of the time Tanya was nice

to work for.� And Jean liked the glory of it, going to concerts with

her, being seen with her, wearing her old clothes, and living an odd

kind of half-life in her shadow.� She had wanted to sing too, but she

didn't have the voice, the luck, or the talent.� Tanya did, and she was

happy just to stand beside it.

"I'm not sure," Jean answered her about the kids.� "He didn't say.� But

he asked you to call him."

She had another half hour of business to listen to, and Jean pointed out

that the housekeeper had left dinner for her in the kitchen.� Tanya

poured herself a glass of wine instead, went over some notes, took a

file of contracts from Jean.� They had been dropped off by her lawyers

and were all from the promoters of the concert tour.� And when Jean

finally left at nine o'clock, Tanya picked up the phone and called

Tony.

"Hi," she said, sounding utterly exhausted.� It had been a long day

from her start in New York early that morning, and there was so much

waiting for her here.� Sometimes she wondered if she'd survive it.

"Jean said you wanted me to call."

"Yes, I did," he said, sounding uncomfortable and distant.� "How was

New York?"

"Nice, more or less.� I saw Mary Stuart Walker, it was worth it just

for that, and Felicia Davenport.� They screwed me on the morning show I

did, and hit me full face with all the garbage from the tabloids."

She'd been through it before, nothing surprised her anymore, but she

still never liked it.� "And seeing the literary guy was a waste of

time."� But she realized as she listened to herself that she was

getting sidetracked.� He wasn't interested in her life anymore.

"That's beside the point, isn't it, right now?� Or is that all that's

left, just business?"

"That's all there ever was, wasn't it?� What else was there, Tanya?

Your work, your concerts, your career, your benefits, your rehearsals,

your music."

"Is that how you see it now?� I think you've left out a few things.

The things we did together .� . . the trips we took .� . . the kids .

.."

There had been more in their life than just her career and her music.

It wasn't fair of him now to say that, just to absolve himself for

leaving her, but she was beyond arguing with him.� It wasn't just her

work and the pressures that got to him, she knew she had lost him

because he was so humiliated over the tabloids.� You had to have a

thick skin to love someone with a show business career, and apparently

he didn't.� "WThat have you told the kids, by the way?"� She was

worried about that.� She had wanted to call them from New York, but she

didn't want to talk to them before Tony told them.

"Their mother took care of it for me," he said, sounding angry.� "She

showed them everything they ran in the tabloids."

"I'm sorry," Tanya said with genuine humility.� It was so hurtful for

all of them, especially the children.

I "Yeah, me too," he said without sincerity.� He sounded more relieved

than unhappy.� And then, suddenly, he sounded awkward.� "In fact, Nancy

wanted me to talk to you.� With everything they're writing about us,

she doesn't think .� . . she thought the kids .� . . she doesn't want

to expose them to your lifestyle at the moment."� He spat out the words

like bad oysters.

"My lifestyle?"� Tanya was totally baffled by his comment.� "What

lifestyle?� What's changed since last week?"� And then she

understood.

Nancy had read all the stories, and all of Leo's claims about her

harassing him sexually and walking around naked.� "Tony, your kids have

nearly lived with us for the past three years.� Has any harm ever come

to them?� Have I done anything wrong?� What does she think I'm going to

do now?� What could possibly be different?"

"I'm not there anymore.� She doesn't see why they should stay with you

if I'm gone.� They can visit you, if I'm along," he said, nearly

choking on the words, even he was embarrassed by what Nancy had told

him.� "But she doesn't want them to stay there."

"Are we talking about visitation?"� Were they already there?� Was she

already negotiating her divorce?� And where were their lawyers?

"Eventually we will be," he explained, and they'd be talking about

other things too, like the house in Malibu she'd bought with her own

funds after she married Tony, but he was extremely fond of.� He was the

only one who used it.� She never had time to.� "Right now, she's

talking about Wyoming."

There was a long silence on Tanya's end as the light began to dawn.

Nancy was not willing to let Tanya take her stepchildren to Wyoming.

"Can this be negotiated?"� she asked, sounding bitterly disappointed.

It was going to be such fun, and she had looked forward to it for

months.

Now everything had gone wrong.� Tony had left her, and the kids were

being kept home by their mother.� "It's a great place, Tony.� Everyone

says it's fabulous and the kids would love it."� He hadn't even wanted

to go at first.� None of them had.� And she had a huge, luxurious

three-bedroom cabin reserved for two weeks.� "What am I supposed to do

with my reservations?"

"Cancel them.� Will they give you a refund?"

"No.� But that's not the point.� I wanted to do something special and

different with the children."

"I can't help it, Tan," Tony said, sounding uncomfortable again.� The

whole thing was embarrassing.� He knew how she'd been looking forward

to it, and he really felt awkward, particularly since he had just left

her.

"Nancy says no, Tan.� I did my best to convince her.� Take a couple of

friends.� What about your old friend in New York?� Mary Stuart."

"Thanks for the suggestions."� But she was worried about something else

now, something much more important.� "I want to know what's happening

here.� Am I going to be allowed to see them again?"� She wanted to hear

it from him.� They had no right to do this to her.� And her eyes filled

with tears as she asked him.

"Who?"� He tried to sound vague, but he knew what she was asking.� And

it wasn't up to him, it was up to their mother.

"You know who I mean, dammit, don't play with me.� The kids.� Am I

going to be allowed to see them?"

"Sure, I .� . . I'm sure Nancy .� .."� But she could tell that he was

hedging.

"The truth.� What deal did you make with her?� Am I going to be able to

see them?"� She said it as though she were speaking to a foreigner, or

someone from another planet.� But he had very clearly understood the

question, he just didn't know how to answer, without making her

crazy.

"You'll have to work it out with your lawyer," he said vaguely, hoping

to avoid a confrontation.

"What the hell does that mean?"� She was shouting at him, and rapidly

losing control.� She was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of panic.

Why was everyone always so able to take everything away from her?� The

money she worked so hard to earn, her reputation, now even her

children.� "Are you going to let me see them or not?"� She was

screaming and he was cringing.

"It's not up to me, Tan.� If it were, you could see them anytime.� It's

up to their mother."

"My ass it's up to her.� That bitch doesn't give a damn about them and

you know it.� That's why you left her."� That and a few other things,

like a drinking problem, a penchant for gambling, and the fact that she

had slept with every man he knew.� More than once, he had had to go

looking for her and the kids in Vegas.� But in spite of that, his

children were terrific, and Tanya knew she had been good for them.� She

wanted to remain a part of their lives now, and Nancy had no right to

stop her.

"Just work it out with your lawyer."� They talked for a few more

minutes and hung up, and she paced around the house that night like a

lion looking for his dinner.� She couldn't believe what was happening

to her.

He had left her, taken his life, his kids, cheated on her in Palm

Springs, made a fool of her in the press, and now his ex-wife wouldn't

let her see the children.� But when her lawyer called her back later

that night, he was not encouraging when she explained it.

"There is something called stepparents' rights," Bennett explained

patiently to her, and she began to hate the sound of his voice as he

went through it.� It was always the same.� They explained what normal

people's rights were, and what celebrities' rights were, and why they

were different.� And with extenuating circumstances, you could count on

being screwed completely.� "But you have to understand, Tanya," he went

on, "you have not exactly been painted like the Virgin Mary in the

press of late, with the kind of accusations Leo is making.� The guy has

told some pretty ugly stories, and I guess Tony's ex-wife doesn't want

the kids exposed to that sort of behavior.� I think if you got on the

stand, and her attorney questioned you, no matter how innocent you are,

by the time he got through, no one would let you take those kids to

high tea in St. Paul's Cathedral, let alone stay at your house, or go

to Wyoming for a vacation."� There were tears in her eyes as he said

it.� He had no idea how he had hurt her.� "I'm sorry, Tanya.� That's

just the way it is.� I think you have to let it go for now.� At least

until the dust settles around this lawsuit."

"But what about the next one?"� she said, blowing her nose.� She knew

the scenario much too well now.

"What next time?"� She had succeeded in confusing Bennett for a

minute.

"Did you pick up another case?� Were you just served?"� He hadn't heard

anything about it.

"No, but I'm sure I will be.� It's only been a week since the last

one.

Give me a few days."

"Don't be so cynical," he said, but she was right, and he knew it.� In

her position, she was nothing more or less than a constant target.� No

wonder Tony had left her.� At the moment, she hated her life as much as

he did.� "Anyway, let's talk about Leo," Bennett went on, ignoring her

current frustration over Tony's children.� There was nothing he could

do about it, and he didn't want to argue in court, inevitably in front

of cameras, about whether or not Tanya was in the habit of walking

naked around the house in front of bodyguards, or sleeping with her

trainer.

He was sure she did neither, but whatever she had done in her life

would come out with a vengeance.� And she was, after all, a grown

woman.

"I don't want to talk about Leo," she said bluntly.� She was unhappy,

and exhausted.

"He's willing to come down to four hundred and ninety if we jump on it

now.� And frankly, I think you should take it."� He said it

matter-of-factly, and she almost jumped off the couch and hung up on

him as she listened.

"Four hundred and ninety thousand dollars?"� She screamed at him and he

didn't bat an eye.� "Are you nuts?� The guy made the whole story up,

and we're going to pay him half a million bucks for it?� Why doesn't he

just get a part in a feature?"

"Because no one's ever heard of him and he'd have to work in four or

five movies to get that.� That could take him a I couple of years, if

he's lucky.� Hitting you up for it is a lot quicker.

" "That's disgusting."� But it was true, that was the worst part.� "I

can't believe this."

"If we wait, he could double it again.� May I call his lawyer tonight

and say we agree?� I want to make it contingent on confidentiality, of

course.� His attorney says he's already talking to one of the networks

about a TV movie."

"Oh, my God," she groaned, and closed her eyes again.� What kind of

nightmare did she live in?� No wonder Tony had left.� Who could blame

him?

Tanya would have liked to leave too, but this was the only way she knew

to make a living.� "This is so sick, isn't it?� What kind of business

is this?� How did I ever get into it, and why have I stayed here?"

"Would you like to see your tax returns for last year?� That might

offer some small comfort," he said fliply but she shook her head

sadly.

It was all too much.� Way, way too much.� It was more slime and sleaze

than she had ever dreamed she'd have to live with.

"You know what, Bennett," she answered him.� "It's not consolation

enough for this kind of shit.� This is my life these people are playing

with.� This is me they're telling lies about.� I've become a thing, a

cash register, an object."� Anyone who wanted an extra dime, a cool

half mil, and was willing to either lie, cheat, or blackmail her, could

have anything they wanted.� For the first time, listening to her words,

Bennett was silent.� And he hated to press her, but he knew he had

to.

"What do I say to Leo's lawyer, Tan?� Give me a break here."

There was a long, unhappy pause, and then finally she nodded.� She knew

when she was beaten.� "All right," she said hoarsely, depressed by all

of it.� "Tell him we'll pay him .� . . the bastard .� .."� And then,

trying to push the horror from her mind, and the fact that she had just

paid a man half a million dollars to tell vicious lies about her to the

press, she asked Bennett another question.� "What about Wyoming?� Can

you do something about that?"

"Like what?� Buy it for you?"� He was trying to tease her out of her

gloom, but he knew he was not succeeding, and he didn't blame her.� It

was a difficult business being a celebrity, in spite of what people

thought.� From the outside, it looked great, from the inside, it was

filled with heartbreak.� And it was impossible not to take it

personally.

They were human, they all did.

"Can you get her to agree to let me take the kids with me?� I'll cut it

down to a week if that makes a difference," although she had the

reservations for two weeks.

"I'll try if you want, but I think it's pretty hopeless.� And I think

it's a fair bet that it'll hit the papers that you were turned down,

which doesn't exactly make you look like a very moral person.� And

since we're pressing Leo on the confidentiality issue here, I'd rather

not have all this crap dragged back into the papers."

"Great.� Thanks," she said, trying to sound unaffected by all of it,

but it was obvious that she was distraught over the entire

conversation.

"I'm sorry, Tan," he said somberly.

"Sure, thanks.� I'll talk to you tomorrow."� She was crying as she said

it.

"I'll call you.� We have to go over the contracts on the concert

tour.

I'll call you in the morning."

Her heart sank as she hung up.� Her life had turned to shit over the

years, and it was only at times like these that she really saw it.� For

all the adulation, and the thrill they talked about, the applause, the

concerts, the awards, the money, this was what it really boiled down

to.

People making you look like a two-bit tramp, a husband who walked out

without looking back, and stepchildren you never saw again.� It was a

wonder anyone in Hollywood could still hold their head up, or bothered

to put one foot after the other.

She sat alone in her house in Bel Air that night, thinking about it,

and wishing she were dead, but too unhappy and too scared to do

anything about it.� She thought of Ellie for the first time in years,

and Mary Stuart's son, Todd.� It seemed such an easy way out, and yet

it wasn't.� It was so totally the wrong thing to do, and yet it

required a peculiar mix of cowardice and courage, and she found that

she had neither.

She sat in her living room until the sun came up, thinking about all of

it, wanting to hate Tony for as much as she could, and she found she

couldn't do that either.� She couldn't do anything except sit there and

cry all night, and there was no one to hear her.� And at last, she got

up and went to bed.� She had no idea what she was going to do about

Wyoming, and she didn't even care now.� She'd let Jean go and take

friends, or her hairdresser, or Tony with a girlfriend.� And then she

remembered he was going to Europe with his girlfriend.� Everyone had

friends and children, and a life, and even a decent reputation.� And

all she had were a bunch of gold and platinum records, hanging on a

wall, and a row of awards sitting on a shelf below them.� But there was

not much more beyond that.� She couldn't imagine trusting anyone again,

or even having a man willing to put up with all the garbage.� It was

laughable.� She had made it all the way to the top, in order to find

that there was nothing there that anybody wanted.� She lay down on her

bed, still thinking of it, and the children she would probably never

see again, or not for more than a few minutes.� It was as though she

and Tony and his kids and their life had vanished into thin air, none

of it had ever existed.� Gone.� In a puff of smoke .� . . in a giant

blaze .� . . a whole life up in flames .� . . with tabloids used as

kindling.

When Tanya woke up later that day, she felt as though she had been

beaten.� She had hardly slept at all, and something about the

settlement, the news about the kids, the fact of coming home and seeing

that Tony had taken all his things, left her feeling bullied and

broken.� She got out of bed, and felt as though she had a hangover as

she grimaced and looked in the mirror.� She hadn't even had a drink the

day before, but she felt rotten, and she had a dismal headache.

"God, I'm going to need another trip to the plastic surgeon after all

this," she said to her reflection once she walked into the bathroom.

She ran a hot bath, and slipped slowly into it, and she felt a little

better.� She had a benefit to do that night, and it was a cause she

really cared about, and she wanted to deliver for them.� She had a

short rehearsal that afternoon, and by noon she had to be on the

merry-go-round again, chasing all her myriad obligations.

She walked into the kitchen in her dressing gown, made herself a cup of

coffee, and reached for the morning paper.� For once, she hadn't made

the front page, and neither had her soon-to-be ex-husband, or any of

her employees, past or present.� That at least was something.� She

turned each page gingerly, as though waiting to find a tarantula

between the pages.� But the only thing that caught her eye was a story

about a doctor in San Francisco called Zoe Phillips.� Tanya read it

avidly, and when she finished it she was smiling.� Zoe was one of her

old college roommates.� She sounded as though she was doing remarkably,

not surprisingly.� She had started the most important AIDS clinic in

the city, and apparently ran it with an absolute genius for obtaining

funds, and turning loaves into fishes.� She was feeding homeless people

with AIDS, housing them, treating them, and also large segments of the

more affluent and disinfected population.� The article made her sound

like the Mother Teresa of San Francisco.� And Tanya was so touched

after what she read, that she reached for her telephone book, looked up

the number, and called her.� She hadn't talked to her in two years, but

they always exchanged cards at Christmas.� Tanya knew she was the only

one still in touch with her.� Mary Stuart had lost contact with her

years before.� They had never patched up the rift between them that

occurred when Ellie died, and Mary Stuart didn't even like to hear

about her.� But Tanya was fond of both of them, and when a nurse

answered the phone, she asked for Dr.� Phillips.

At first, the nurse said the doctor was administering a treatment, and

she asked if she could take a message.

"Sure," Tanya said agreeably, without hesitation.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Tanya Thomas."

There was a long pause.� Normally, the nurse would have thought it was

a coincidence, but the doctor had an odd knack for getting in touch

with famous people to participate in benefits for them, or just

outright donate money.

"The Tanya Thomas?"� She felt stupid asking.

"I guess so," Tanya laughed.� "I went to college with Dr. Phillips,"

she explained.� It was interesting that Zoe never bragged about it.

Her only interest in Tanya was their history together.

The nurse listening to her was clearly impressed that Tanya and the

doctor were friends, and she said she was going to see if Dr. Phillips

had finished her procedure.� There was another wait, and a moment

later, Tanya heard a familiar voice on the line.� She had a soft smoky

voice, and a seriousness which she conveyed even over the telephone

lines, but she dealt with a serious subject.

"Tan?"� she asked, with a small, slow voice.� "Is that you?� My nurses

almost went crazy."

"It's me.� You sound like Dr. Salk from what I'm reading in the

paper.

You've been pretty busy, and you forgot to send me a Christmas card

last year."� It always felt like being kids again when she talked to

her.� It brought back old times, just as it did when Tanya saw Mary

Stuart.

"I didn't send any.� I was too busy.� I had a baby."� She said it with

the same gentle smile, and Tanya could just see her as she listened.

"You did what?� Are you married?"� But she doubted it.� Zoe had never

wanted to get married.� She was satisfied with her career and long-term

monogamous relationships, but she was more interested in issues and

changing the course of medical history than in getting married, and she

always had been.� "What are you telling me?� Have you joined the rest

of the bourgeois population?� What happened?"

"Don't get too worked up.� I adopted.� And no, I'm not married.� I

haven't changed that much.� I've just been really busy."

"How old is the baby?"� It was so sweet just thinking about it, and in

some ways, so unlike Zoe.� She had never struck Tanya as terribly

maternal.� And judging from the age she knew so well, Zoe had done it

when she was forty-three.� She must have decided to give motherhood a

try before it was too late, but it was interesting that she hadn't

decided to get pregnant.

"She's nearly two now.� She just kind of happened into my life.� Her

mother was a patient, and fortunately, she did not have AIDS, but she

was homeless. �She didn't want to keep Jade, so I did.� She's half

Korean.

And it's been perfect.� I would never have been able to take the time

out of my practice to get pregnant."� And she had never been involved

with anyone she wanted that permanent a tie to.� Not in recent years at

least.

Her heart was in her work, and she would have done anything in life for

her patients.

"When am I going to see her?"� Tanya asked wistfully, thinking about

her old friend and the little Korean girl she had adopted.Jade.� She

loved the name.� And it was so like Zoe.

"I'll send you a picture," Zoe said apologetically, as she signaled to

a nurse waiting for her in the doorway.� She pointed to her watch and

held up five fingers to her.� She wanted five more minutes to talk to

Tanya.� But there were over forty patients waiting for her in the

waiting room, some of them too ill to be there.� It was a familiar

story to Zoe.

But she could take at least five minutes out for old times' sake.

"How about doing better than a snapshot?� How about coming to

Wyoming?"

Tanya had just decided to ask her on the spur of the moment.� What if

Zoe came, and Jade, and Mary Stuart .� . . but she knew that was

silly.

Mary Stuart was going to Europe with her daughter.� "It's just a

thought.� I've rented a cabin at a fancy dude ranch for two weeks in

July and I have no one to go with."� She sounded tired and forlorn, and

Zoe knew her well enough to sense that things weren't going well, and

if it were true, she was sorry to hear it.

"What about your husband?"

"That proves what I always suspected about you.� You don't buy

groceries, and you don't read tabloids."� Zoe had been much too thin

all her life, and was the envy of every woman who knew her, but she

laughed at Tanya's comment.

"You're right on both counts.� I never have time to eat, and I wouldn't

read that junk if you paid me."

"That's comforting.� Anyway, to answer your question, he's gone.� He

moved out this week, as a matter of fact.� And now his ex-wife won't

let me see his kids, because I'm being sued by a bodyguard who claims

that I tried to seduce him.� Actually, it's all so sick it's not worth

trying to explain to a rational human being.� Don't bother to figure it

out.� I can't, and I live here."� But what Zoe heard more than the

words was the distress in her friend's voice.� She sounded genuinely

distraught over the state of her life at the moment.

"It doesn't sound like much fun.� Wyoming sounds like a great idea.� I

wish I could go with you."� The nurse was standing in the doorway

flailing again, but Zoe didn't want to cut Tanya off.� It sounded like

she needed someone to talk to.� So Zoe signaled for another five

minutes, and the nurse disappeared again with a look of desperation.

"Don't you think you could come, Zoe?� Maybe just for a weekend?"

"I wish I could.� I don't have anyone working with me right now.� I'd

have to leave a call group covering me, and my patients really hate

it.

Most of them are so sick they want to know I'm going to be here."

"Don't you ever take time off?"� Tanya said in amazement, not that she

took much time off either.� But what she did was a lot less rigorous

than caring for dying patients.

"Not very often," Zoe confessed.� "In fact," she said apologetically,

"I'd better get back to work now, or they're going to break my office

door down and lynch me.� I'll call you sometime.� Don't let the

assholes get you down, Tan.� They're all lesser beings, and it's just

not worth it."

"I try to remember that most of the time, but they get you anyway.

Somehow they always win, in this town anyway, or at least in this

business."

"You don't deserve that," Zoe said in her gentle voice, and Tanya

smiled broadly for the first time that morning.

"Thanks.� Oh, I saw Mary Stuart the other day, by the way."

"How is she?"� Zoe sounded tense when she asked, but it was still the

same old thing, and Tanya never paid any attention to it.� She had

continued to give each of them news of the other over the years, and

she still had fantasies about getting them back together, like the old

days.

"She's all right, more or less.� Her son died last year.� I don't think

any of them have recovered.� I think right now everything is still a

little shaky."

"Tell her I'm sorry," Zoe said softly, and she was.� "What did he die

of?� An accident?"

"I think so," Tanya said vaguely, she didn't want to tell her it was a

suicide.� She knew how private and pained Mary Stuart felt about it.

"He was at Princeton.� He was twenty."

"That's a shame."� She dealt with death so constantly, but she had

never grown blase about it.� It was a defeat she still hated, and knew

she would never accept with grace.� Every time she lost a patient, she

felt cheated.

"I know, you have to go .� . . but think about Wyoming, if you can.� It

would be fun, wouldn't it?"� It was a crazy dream, but it appealed to

Tanya, and Zoe snliled at the thought.� For her, it wasn't even a

dream.

She hadn't had a vacation in eleven years now.� "Call me sometime."

She sounded wistful and lonely, and Zoe wished that she could reach out

to her and hold her.� It was odd to think that someone with so much

could be so vulnerable and unhappy.� For those who didn't know her

life, they would never have believed the beatings Tanya and people like

her had taken, and the price Tanya's fame had cost her.

"I'll send pictures of Jade, I promise!"� she said before she hung up,

and as soon as she did, three nurses descended on her, complaining

about the crowds in the waiting room, but the one who had taken the

call looked at her with amazement.

"I couldn't believe that was really her.� What's she like?"� Everyone

always asked, but it was such a dumb question.

"She's one of the nicest women I know, the most decent.� She works like

a dog, and she's so talented she doesn't even realize it.� She deserves

a much better shake than she's had in life.� Maybe one day she'll get

it," Zoe said wisely, as she followed them out of her office, but the

nurse who had taken the call couldn't understand what Zoe was saying.

"She's won Grammys, Academy awards, platinum records, they say she

makes ten million dollars when she does a concert tour, and a million

bucks a concert when she doesn't.� What else is there?"

"A whole lot, Annalee, believe me.� You and I have more in our lives

than she does."� It was heartbreaking to think that she lad to call a

friend from college to find someone to go on vacation with.� At least

Zoe had her baby.

"I don't get it," the nurse said, shaking her head, as Zoe disappeared

into a treatment room.� And in Los Angeles, Tanya sat staring at the

photograph of Zoe in the paper.� And then, just for the hell of it, she

decided to call Mary Stuart.

"Hi there, guess who I just talked to five minutes ago?"

"The president," Mary Stuart teased, happy to hear her voice again.

Ever since she'd come through New York, she'd missed her.

"No.� Zoe.� She's running an AIDS clinic in San Francisco.� There was a

big article about it in this morning's L.A. Times, and she adopted a

baby.� She's almost two, her name is Jade, and she's half Korean."

"That's sweet," Mary Stuart said, trying to feel generous about her old

friend, but even after more than twenty years, some of the old wounds

still smarted.� "I'm happy for her," she said, and meant it.� "It's so

typical of her, isn't it?� Adopting, I mean, and an Asian child.� She

really turned out to be just who she started out to be.� And the AIDS

clinic doesn't surprise me either.� Is she married?"

"Nope.� I guess she's smarter than we are.� Has Bill left for London

yet?"

"Yesterday."� She was suddenly silent then, as she thought about what

she'd done the night before, and she knew Tanya would think she had

done the right thing, although it had been very painful.� "I put Todd's

things away last night.� I guess it was long overdue, but I just wasn't

ready before this."

"No one's keeping score," Tanya said gently.� "You do what you have to

do to survive around here."� And then she told Mary Stuart about Nancy

not letting her take the kids to Wyoming.� She was bitterly

disappointed about it, and Mary Stuart could hear it.� She knew how

much those children meant to her.� In some ways, they had been the best

part of her marriage.

"That's rotten," she said with feeling.

"What isn't?� I just agreed to pay half a million dollars to that

blackmailer who sold his ass and mine to the tabloids."

"God, that's awful.� Why so much?"

"Because everyone's scared.� My lawyers are terrified of juries.� They

figure they could never win a jury trial.� The other side would make me

look like a monster rolling in money.� There's no way to portray

anything good or wholesome to them.� celebrity equals slut, or at the

very least a person who deserves to cough up large sums of money to

those either less fortunate, less honest, or extremely lazy.� They

ought to put that definition in the dictionary," she said, munching on

a piece of toast, and Mary Stuart smiled.� Tanya sounded upset, but not

as devastated as she could have, considering everything that was

happening to her.� She could have been in bed with the covers over her

head, and she wasn't.

Tanya always had a lot of guts.� Mary Stuart admired that about her.

Whatever life did to her, she picked herself up, and went on her way

again, dented, scratched, with broken corners here and there, but she

was back on her feet, with a big smile, singing her heart out.� "Have

you heard from Bill since he left?"� Tanya asked, thinking about what

Mary Stuart had told her.� She still found it remarkable that he didn't

want his wife with him in London.� And from what Mary Stuart said, she

didn't even think he was cheating on her.� He just didn't want her with

him.

"Not yet.� Alyssa called yesterday though.� Our trip has been

canceled.

" "It has?"� Tanya sounded stunned.� "What happened?"

"She got a better offer.� With a boy in tow."� Mary Stuart smiled, but

her voice sounded disappointed. �"You can't beat that at her age."

"Or mine either," Tanya laughed, thinkiIlg about it.� "So where does

that leave you?"

"Pretty much beached, I guess.� I'm tryirlg to figure out what to do

for the next two months.� Bill and I talked about it again before he

left, but he's adamant about not wanting me to come over.� He thinks it

would be distracting."� To tell you the truth, I was thinking of coming

out to visit you for a few days, if you have time.� I can stay at a

hotel.� New York is just so awful in July and August, and we didn't do

anything about a summer house this year because we knew Bill would be

gone all summer."

"What about Wyoming?"� Tanya's face lit up as she asked her.� At least

half the dream could come true.� Even if Zoe couldn't come, she and

Mary Stuart could go to Wyoming for two weeks and play cowgirls.

"Would you come with me?� I have a cabin on this great ranch.� It's

supposed to be the height of luxury, Western style, and I can't see

myself going alone.

I've got the time blocked out, and I was going to give it away to

someone else today, my secretary probably, or someone I work with."

Mary Stuart looked pensive, as she sat in her kitchen, thinking about

it.� "It sounds like fun.� I don't have anything else to do.� I'm not

sure what a great rider I am anymore, although I'm certainly well

padded."

"Don't give me that, you're fifteen pounds underweight.� But who cares

if we never ride?� Who'll know?� We can stare at the mountains and

drink coffee, or champagne, or chase wranglers."

"Oh, great.� Here come the tabloids.� I'm not going anywhere with you

if you're going to trash my reputation."� But Mary Stuart was laughing

at her.� She loved the idea of going to a ranch with Tanya.� Before,

when Tanya had mentioned it, she hadn't even thought about it, because

she was going to Europe _ to meet Alyssa, and Tanya was going to

Wyoming with Tony's children.

"I promise, I'll behave.Just come.� I'd love it."� Tanya's eyes were

shining as she said it.� "Will you, Stu?"

Mary Stuart grinned when she heard her old college name.� "I'd love

it.

When do we go?"� She had the whole summer before her.

"Right after the Fourth.� Go buy yourself some boots.� I've still got

my old ones."

"I'll go shopping this afternoon.� How do I get there?"� She had so

much to do, arrangements to make, cowboy boots to buy.� All of a sudden

she felt like a kid again, and the thought of spending two weeks with

Tanya thrilled her.� It was just what she needed.

"Why don't you come to L.A and we'll ride my bus to Jackson Hole.� We

can do it in two days easy.� We can sleep, eat, read, watch movies,

whatever you want.� My driver never even talks to me.� You can do

anything you want on the way to Wyoming."� She had a real rock-star

bus, with two huge living rooms, hidden beds, a marble bathroom, and a

full kitchen.

It was perfect.

"I'll be there."

"I'll pick you up at the airport."� Tanya gave her the dates, and Mary

Stuart wrote them down carefully.� This wasn't what she had expected to

do by any means, but suddenly she realized that this was her ticket to

freedom.

She sent Bill a fax as soon as she hung up, telling him that Alyssa had

canceled their trip, and they would not be coming to London.� Instead

she and Tanya Thomas would be spending two weeks in Wyoming, and she

promised to send him the details when she had them.� She said that she

hoped everything was going well, and that they were settling in at the

hotel.� She told him she'd be leaving for Los Angeles the following

week, after the Fourth, and she'd fax him from there.� She signed it

love, but this time she didn't say that she missed him.

After she sent the fax to him, she picked up her handbag, and went out

to buy cowboy boots at Billy Martin's.

And in California, Tanya was hopping around her kitchen like a kid,

thinking about their trip.� She and Mary Stuart were going to have a

ball.� She was in great spirits all day thinking about it, and that

night at the benefit she looked spectacular in a black sequined dress

that clung to her extraordinary figure, and everyone said her

performance had never been better.

"You were hot!"� Jean whispered as Tanya came off the stage, spent but

pleased.� It had been a great night, and the crowd had loved her.

"You're the best!"� There were curtain calls and encores, and people

pressing around her everywhere.� There were wild screams from the

crowd, and flowers flung at her, and gifts pressed into her hands, and

even someone's underwear flying through the air, but she dodged it.

They adored her, and as the police whisked her away, she couldn't help

thinking about the insanity of her !life, the wild dichotomies of which

celebrity was made, how passionately she was loved, how desperately she

was hated.

The rest of Zoe Phillips's day, after Tanya called, went like all her

days, it just flew by as she went diligently from patient to patient.

Most of her patients were homosexual men, but in recent years, she was

seeing more and more women and heterosexuals, who had contracted the

disease either sexually, or with IV drugs, or transfusions.� But the

cases she hated most, and she had had many of them, were the

children.

It was like working in an underdeveloped country.� She could offer them

no cure, and there was so little she could do to help them.� Sometimes

only a gesture, a touch of the hand, a gift of time, a moment at their

bedside before they died.� She spent untold hours visiting her

patients.

She was tireless and had been for years, since the first cases were

documented in the early eighties.� In the years since, AIDS had become

her nemesis, her obsession, and her passion.

By the end of each day, she was drained of all energy and emotion.� The

only human being she could still think of offering anything to at all

was her daughter.� She tried to spend as much time as possible with

her, she even went home for lunch sometimes, just to be with her.

Early on she had brought her to work with her, and kept her in her

office in a basket.� But once Jade began to walk, it was all over.

She was just getting ready to go home to her on the day Tanya called,

when Sam Warner, her only relief doctor at the time, dropped by to see

how things were going.� He was a good doctor and a nice man.� Zoe had

known him for years professionally, and they had been good friends in

medical school, when they'd gone to Stanford.� They'd been inseparable

for a while, and when they were young, Zoe had always suspected that

Sam had a crush on her, but she'd been far too intent on her work to

acknowledge it, and he'd never done anything about it.� He moved to

Chicago for his residency, and they had lost touch for a while, long

enough for him to get married, and then divorced.� And when he finally

moved back to California, they eventually ran into each other again and

resumed their old friendship.� But it was nothing more than that now.

They were buddies, and he loved doing relief work in her practice.

"How's it going here?� I haven't heard from you in weeks."� He popped

his head around her office door as she put away her papers.� He had the

look of a large, cuddly teddy bear.� He was tall and broad and warm,

with ever tousled brown hair and big brown eyes, and no matter how hard

he tried, he always looked rumpled.� But Zoe knew he was brilliant with

her patients.� He was great with people of all ages and sizes, and he

was the only relief doctor she trusted.� "Don't you ever take a day

off?"� he asked, with a look of concern.� His specialty was doing locum

tenens for an interesting assortment of doctors.� That meant he was a

full-time "relief doctor," with no practice of his own.� This was what

he did for a living.� And he particularly enjoyed Zoe's practice.� She

ran a tight ship, and he thought she was a truly great physician,

working in a nearly impossible field at the moment.

"I try not to take time off," she said in answer to his question.� "My

patients don't like it."� Although they liked Sam, she felt an

obligation not to let them down or desert them.� She did rounds at the

hospital, and visited them in their homes sometimes, even on Sundays,

and Sam knew that.

"You need to take time off," he scolded as he watched her take off her

white coat and toss it in the laundry.� "It's good for you, and

besides," he grinned at her, "I need the money."

"I think I still owe you from last time, Sam.� I've got a new

toookkeeper and so far she's a disaster."� She smiled at him, he was

always incredibly patient about payment.� She had learned in medical

school that he was from a wealthy family in the East and had

independent means, but he never said anything about it, and nothing

about him suggested ostentation.� He drove a battered old car, wore

simple clothes, mostly work shirts and jeans, and he wore an ancient

pair of boots that he obviously loved and looked as though they'd been

worn by ten thousand cowboys.

"Anything new around here?"� he asked.� He liked keeping up to date on

her practice, so he wasn't flying completely blind whenever she asked

him to take over.� And the only time she did was when she was sick, or

had a special event to go to.� But she hadn't gone out much lately.

She'd been too tired at night, and incredibly busy in the daytime, and

she was just as happy to stay home with her baby.� And when she went

out on a date, which she did occasionally, she wore her beeper and took

her own calls, and sometimes, if she had to, she walked out of a play,

or left dinner even before she'd touched it.� It didn't make her a very

exciting date, but it made her one hell of a good doctor.

"Nothing much new."� She filled him in as she changed her shoes.� "We

seem to have a lot of new kids at the moment, young ones."� They had

contracted AIDS during gestation, from their mothers.

"I'll take a look around after you're gone."� She never minded him

looking at her files.� She had no secrets from Sam.� "Kiss Jade for

me."

"Thanks."� She smiled, and left the office.� She took a quick look at

he watch, it was one of those rare nights when she had a date, and knew

she had to hurry.� But it was already too late for that.� It was six

forty-five, and Richard Franklin was picking her up at seven-thirty.

He was a well-known breast surgeon at UC, and they'd met two years

before when they'd both been speaking at the same medical convention.

And she'd been intrigued by the natural rivalry of their fields, he had

been irked at the attention AIDS got in the press, citing the fact that

more people died of breast cancer than AIDS, and the research funds

should have been directed toward cancer.� It had provided a lively

argument for them, and a basis for an interesting friendship.� And over

the past two years, she'd gone out with him several times, especially

lately.� He was a brilliant man, and she enjoyed his company, and

sometimes even more than that, but Richard Franklin was not the kind of

man one fell in love with.� There had been others in her life who had

meant a great deal to her, but no one in a long time.� The last man she

had really cared about had died of AIDS from a blood transfusion ten

years before, and that had been the beginning of her clinic when he

left her all his money.� There had been one or two special people

since, but no one like him, and no one had ever made her want to get

married.� Certainly not Richard Franklin.

She drove home in her old Volkswagen van.� She had bought it when she

adopted Jade, and she often used it to help transport patients, and

eventually she thought she'd use it for car pools.� And she used it now

to drive home as quickly as she could.� She had bought a lovely old

house on Edgewood, close to UC Hospital, near the forest.� She went for

walks in the woods there with Jade, and the view from her living room

was spectacular.� She had a clear view of the Golden Gate and the Marin

Headlands.� And as soon as she opened her front door, Jade let out a

scream of excitement.� "Mommy!" Zoe swept the little girl into her

arms, and held her there, cuddling her, while Jade waved her arms and

told her all about a dog and a rabbit and raisins and play group.� It

wasn't highly intelligible, but Zoe knew exactly what she was saying.

"Babbit!� Babbit!"� she said, clapping her hands excitedly, and Zoe

knew immediately that she had seen it at their neighbor's.� "Mommy,

Babbit!� " "I know.� Maybe we'll get one, one of these days."� She set

the toddler down in the kitchen then, and took a bite of her dinner.

It was hamburger and rice, prepared by the Danish all pair, Inge.� It

wasn't fabulous, but it was wholesome, and Jade was brandishing a

handful of raw carrots she had gnawed on, as Zoe hurried upstairs to

her bedroom.

She wanted to change as quickly as she could, and then come back to

spend a few minutes with Jade before she went out with Dick Franklin.

This was exactly why she hated going out at night.� It gave her

absolutely no time with her daughter.� But her outings and dates were

rare, just as her days off were.

She came downstairs twenty minutes later in a long black velvet skirt

and a white lace blouse, she looked like an old family portrait, and

her long red hair had been brushed and rebraided.� She wore it in a

long braided tail down her back, just as she had in college.

"Pitty Mama!"� the little girl said, clapping her hands again, and Zoe

smiled as she pulled her onto her lap.� She was incredibly tired.

"Thank you, Jade.� How's my big girl today?"� she asked, as the child

snuggled close to her, and Zoe smiled as she held her.� This was what

life was all about, not excitement, not glamour, not even money or

success, and certainly none of the things Tanya had talked to her

about.

The important things in life, as far as Zoe was concerned, were good

health and children, and she never lost sight of their importance.� She

had no chance to, she had daily reminders in her office.

She and Jade played with some big pink Lego blocks for a little while,

and then the doorbell rang.� It was Richard Franklin.� He looked very

sleek and cool when he walked in.� He was wearing gray slacks and a

blazer, but she saw that he was wearing an expensive tie, and as usual,

he looked as though he'd just had a haircut.� Dr. Franklin always

looked impeccable, and as though he was expecting to give a lecture to

the hospital's most important donors.� He knew his specialty perfectly,

and it was impossible not to admire his knowledge, if not his bedside

manner.� He and Zoe had always been extremely different, but fascinated

somehow with each other.

"And how are you tonight, Dr. Franklin?"� she asked after the all pair

let him in.� She was crouched on the floor, still playing blocks with

her daughter.

"I'm impressed," he said, managing to look both very handsome and

extremely lofty.� There had always been something very arrogant about

him, and Zoe suspected that was what appealed to her, there was an

irresistible desire to tame him.� But until the present, in any case,

she had controlled it.� "Do you do that often?"� He indicated the game

she was playing with Jade, where she built a large pink house of Lego

blocks, and Jade destroyed it.

"As often as I can," she said honestly, knowing full well that it made

him uncomfortable.� He had confessed to her long since that he felt

uneasy around children.� He had never had any of his own, and like her,

he had never been married.� He claimed that the opportunity had never

presented itself to him at the right time, but she sensed fairly

accurately that he was basically too self-centered.� "Would you like to

play?"� she teased, she couldn't imagine him on his hands and knees on

the floor, playing anything.� He might mess up his hair, or uncrease

his trousers.� She knew that most of her contemporaries thought he was

a stuffed shirt, and he was in a way, but he was so incredibly smart,

and at fifty-five, he was extremely attractive.� On the surface he was

the kind of man her family would have liked her to marry years before,

but her parents were long dead, and it seemed exotic enough to her just

to date him.

"Are you ready?"� he asked expectantly, not particularly amused to be

watching her play with Jade.� He had gotten tired of it in less than a

minute.� And their reservation at Boulevard was at eight, and it was

quite a distance from Edgewood, and so popular they didn't like

halflins tshle.s. even for imoortant doctors.

"Ready, sir," she said, shrugging into a little velvet jacket.� Even in

June, it was cold at night in San Francisco, and she looked very pretty

as she picked Jade up again and kissed her.

"I love you, little mouse," she said, rubbing noses with her, and then

giving her a butterfly kiss on the cheek with her eyelashes as the

little girl giggled.� "I'll see you later."� As she said the words,

Jade's lower lip began to stick out, and Zoe could see instantly that

tears were about to happen.� She gave her quickly to the all pair, and

waved just as Jade let out a wail, but by then they were out the door,

and the all pair turned her around to distract her.� In the past year,

Zoe had become the master of the fast exit.

"You do that very well," he said admiringly.� It was very unusual for

him to go out with women with young children.� Most of the time he

preferred women who were too involved in their careers to marry or have

kids, which was exactly what Zoe had been when he met her.� And then

she had stunned him by adopting a baby.� It hadn't been at all what

he'd expected of her, and it had somehow altered their relationship,

but he still found her agonizingly attractive, and he would have liked

to spend a lot more time with her.� But she was too busy with her

practice most of the time, and now with the child, so he did the best

he could, and accepted crumbs from her table.� "I haven't seen you in

two weeks," he complained as he started his dark green Jaguar.

"I've been busy," she said simply.� "I have a lot of very sick

patients," she said matter-of-factly.� She had lost several of late,

and it had been very depressing for her because she always got so close

to them, particularly in the end, when it was always so touching, and

so pathetic.

"I have very sick patients too," he said, sounding mildly irritated, as

he headed toward downtown, and through the Hight just below her.

"Yes, but you have partners."

"True.� You ought to think about that some time.� I don't see how you

manage the way you do.� You're going to get sick one of these days, a

bad case of hepatitis, or worse yet, get AIDS from one of your

patients."

"That's a pleasant thought," she said, looking away from him, out the

window.

"It happens," he said seriously, "you should think about what you're

doing.� There's no point being a hero, or a martyr."� ,}.

"I have thought about it, and this is where I belong.� They need me,

Dick."

"So does everyone else.� So does your daughter.� You need to take more

time off."� He was the second person who had told her that that night,

and she glanced over at him, wondering why he had said it.� He wasn't

usually that solicitous, or that concerned.� He wasn't much of a

nurturer, although he was a doctor.� "You look tired, Zoe," he said

simply, and then he patted her hand with a smile.� "A nice dinner out

will do you good.� You probably never eat either."� She couldn't even

remember if she'd had breakfast or lunch that day, she had hit the deck

running the moment she got to the office.� Most of her days were like

that.

But when they got to the restaurant, she was inclined to agree with

him. �It was so pretty and well lit, and the table was so inviting that

she was sorry she didn't see him more often.� He ordered wine for both

of them, and they decided to split the rack of lamb, and they ordered

souMe for dessert.� It was certainly a far cry from the leftover

hamburgers she ate at home off of Jade's plate, or the cold pizza she

found in the fridge at the office.

"This is lovely," she said, looking grateful.

"I've missed you," he said simply, reaching out for her hand.� But she

wasn't in the mood for romance, and there was something about his

arrogance that always kept her from falling for him, although she found

him physically attractive.� But, tonight, in spite of the candlelight

and the wine, she was inclined to keep her distance.

"I've been busy," she said, explaining her two-week absence."

"Too much so.� What about a weekend somewhere?� I've rented a house at

Stinson Beach for July and August.� What about coming over for a

weekend?"

She smiled at him then.� She knew him better than he thought.� "With

Jade?"� she asked, and he hesitated, and then nodded.

"If you prefer, but it might do you good to get away from her too."

"I'd miss her," she said, and then laughed at herself.� "I'd probably

be an awful guest right now, I'm so tired I'd probably sleep all

weekend."

"I might think of ways to wake you," he said, looking alarmingly

sensual as he raised his glass to her, and then sipped it.

"I believe you would, Dr. Franklin."� She smiled at him again, and the

evening sped by with talk of the hospital they both practiced in, the

politics that were typical of all major teaching hospitals, and several

intriguing rumors.� They each talked about their specialties, and he

described a new technique he had perfected which was already going into

textbooks.� He was good at what he did, and not particularly modest,

but Zoe didn't mind it.� It made for fascinating conversation, and she

liked talking medicine with him.� Although when she said as much to Sam

from time to time, he accused her of being too single-minded, and said

he hated going out to dinner with female doctors and discussing liver

transplants over pasta.� He thought she should expand her horizons,

besides which, he couldn't stand Dick Franklin.� He thought he was

impossible and pompous.

Zoe and Dick both had cappuccino after the souffle was gone, and it was

almost eleven o'clock by then, and Zoe didn't want to admit it to him,

but she was exhausted.� It was all she could do to stay awake at the

table.� And she was planning to do rounds at seven o'clock the next

morning, which meant she'd be up at five or five-thirty with Jade.� She

got up with her every morning, and played with her before she went to

work.� It was her favorite time of day with her baby.

But Dick didn't even seem to notice how tired she was when he took her

home and reminded her again about the weekend in Stinson.� "Let me know

when it works for you," he said, with a warm look at her.� "I'm at your

disposal."

"I have to line up my relief doc first, and make sure the all pair can

stay over on Sunday."� Despite teasing him, she would never have

inflicted Jade on him for an entire weekend.� She would have driven him

crazy, even though she was a good baby.� But he wanted to listen to

classical music, make love in the afternoon, and discuss surgical

techniques with an equal, not change diapers, or wipe applesauce off a

baby.� And Zoe understood that.� "I'll see when they're both free, and

I'll call you."� They were sitting in his car outside her house, he had

wanted to take her to his place first, in Pacific Heights, but he could

see as they drove across town that she was already yawning, and she

apologized for being such bad company, as he drove past his place

toward Edgewood.

"The trouble is you're not," he said gently, looking longingly up at

her house, but he wasn't sure about tackling the child and the all

pair, and he knew Zoe preferred to go to his place.� "Every time I see

you, I want to spend more time with you, and you're always too busy."

He understood that about her life though.� He himself had a busy

schedule with an enormous number of patients to see, he was considered

the preeminent breast surgeon at UC, and he still managed to lecture

all over the country.

"Maybe that's what keeps things interesting," Zoe said, smiling at him,

as she sat in the comfortable car, watching him.� He was incredibly

smooth and good-looking, and yet, although she enjoyed his company a

great deal, she knew she could never love him.� "Maybe if we spent more

time together, I'd bore you."

But he laughed at her when she said it.� "I don't think that's very

likely."� She was one of his favorite women, and she tantalized him in

some ways, as she did now.� She managed to be both vulnerable and

unattainable, both powerful and gentle, and the contrasts excited him

more than he cared to tell her.� "I don't suppose I can talk you into

shocking your household tonight, can I?"� he asked hopefully, and she

shook her head slowly.� She never did that.� Not with the all pair and

the baby around, and she wasn't going to start that, even for Dr.

Franklin.

"I'm afraid not, Dick.� I'm sorry."

"I'm not surprised," he smiled good-naturedly, "only disappointed.

Well, go look at your calendar and pick a date for a weekend.� Soon,

please."

"Yes, sir."� He walked her upstairs, and opened the door for her with

her key, and kissed her chastely on the lips.� There was no point

getting anything started that they couldn't finish, as far as he was

concerned.

And he was a patient man, he could wait a week or two to see her again,

although he would have preferred to make love to her that evening.� But

he was willing to accept her limitations.� She thanked him for dinner,

and he left, and the moment he was gone, she hurried to her bedroom,

took off her clothes, and slipped into bed without even putting on her

nightgown or brushing her teeth.� She was too tired to do anything but

sleep, and she lay dead to the world until six o'clock the next

morning.

Jade was already awake when she went in to check on her, and playing

happily with the toys the all pair had left in her crib the night

before for exactly that purpose.� She was alternately talking to

herself and singing softly, but she stood up and squealed when she saw

her mother.

"Hi there, monkey face," Zoe said as she picked her up and took her to

change her diaper.� But she noticed as she did that Jade seemed heavier

than usual, and Zoe was still tired after a night's sleep.� That was

happening more and more lately, and it reminded her to call the lab

when she got into the office.

She left the house at six forty-five, and was at UC Hospital to do

rounds at seven, and in her office at eight-thirty, and there were

already two dozen patients waiting for her.� It was one of the busiest

days she'd had in months, and she didn't have time to call the lab till

lunchtime.� And when she did, they didn't have the results for her, and

for once she lost her term per.

"We've waited two weeks for this, dammit.� It's not fair to keep people

waiting that long," she complained.� "These are life-and-death

situations, we're not talking about a urinalysis here, for chrissake.

How soon can I have it?"� They apologized for being backlogged and

promised her that if she called back at four o'clock she'd have the

results, but she didn't get a chance to stop again until five-thirty,

and she still had patients waiting for her.� But she wanted the results

before the close of business, so she called them.� They fumbled around

for a while, while she fumed, and pushed several messages around her

desk, and then they came back on the line and told her.

"Positive," the lab tech said matter-of-factly.� It was no big

surprise.

Her patients tested positive for the AIDS virus all the time.� That was

why they came to see her.

"Positive?"� she said, as though she'd never heard it before.

"Positive?"� She could feel the planet spinning.

"That's what I said," he said easily.� "Is it a surprise this time?"

The trouble was, it wasn't.� It explained how tired she had been, how

exhausted, the weight she had lost, the diarrhea she had had from time

to time, and the symptoms that had been troubling her for six months,

since Christmas.� The results were her own this time, and she knew

exactly when it had happened.� She had stuck herself with a dirty

needle by accident, nearly a year before, when she was doing a blood

test on a little girl who had died of AIDS two months ago, in April.

She thanked the lab tech for the results, and hung up the I phone ever

so quietly, feeling as though the world had just come to an end, just

as her patients did when she told them.� There had been nothing subtle

about it, nothing gentle about what he said.� "Positive" .� . .

positive .� . . she had AIDS .� What would she do with Jade?� .� . .

How was she going to work?

Who would take care of her when she got sick?� .� . . What was she

going to do now?� And as she contemplated the enormity of it, she was

overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings.� She had had denial about

it at first, but she had suspected it for weeks, when she had gotten a

funny sore on her lip.� It had disappeared fairly rapidly, but her

suspicions didn't.� Her own medical background had finally forced her

to face it, and at least get tested.� It was exactly what she dealt

with, with her patients.� But her concerns had been vivid enough to

make her avoid Dick Franklin for the last few weeks, although she had

always been extremely careful with him.� Ever since her lover had died

of AIDS ten years before, she had always exercised every precaution,

and warned the men in her life about him.� She had told Dick, and they

had both been unfailingly cautious.� She had never exposed him to any

risk.� But if she were to continue seeing him now, she would tell him,

just so he'd know what she had to contend with.� But she had no desire

to see him, or tell him.� She couldn't imagine him taking care of her

or even being very sympathetic.� He had even warned her of the risks

she was taking, with her kind of practice.� It had happened to other

doctors before, just as it had to her.� And he didn't think the dangers

were worth it.

He was a scientist, and they were good friends certainly, but he wasn't

the kind of person you went to with a problem.� He was the kind of man

you went out with for a nice evening.� But she was sure he'd be

appalled, if she told him.� And she knew, without even thinking about

it, that their dating career had just ended.� So had a lot of things,

maybe not her medical career for now, but certainly her future.� She

had an overwhelming urge to burst into tears, but she knew she

couldn't, she still had to see patients.� But suddeIlly, she could

hardly think straight.

"Anyone home?"� Sam Warner popped his head around her door again, and

looked startled when he saw her expression.� She looked as though

someone had just shot her out of a cannon.� And they had.� A big one.

"Are you okay?� You look awful," he said bluntly.

"I think I'm coming down with something," she said vaguely, groping for

an excuse to explain her complete discomposure.� "A cold, a flu .� .

.

something."

"Then you shouldn't be here," he said firmly.� "I'm not hustling you

for work, but your patients can't afford to catch anything from you,

and you know it."

"I'll wear a mask," she said, fumbling in her desk with trembling

fingers, and he saw how badly her hands shook when she tried

unsuccessfully to tie it.� But he didn't say anything.� He just looked

worried.� "I .� . . really .� . . I'm fine .� . . I just .� . . I have

a headache .� .."

"You're a mess," he said, taking the stethoscope from around her neck

and putting it on the table.� "Go home.� I'll see the rest of your

patients, and I won't charge you.� It's a gift from me.� Some people

just don't know when to quit."� He wagged a finger at her and almost

pushed her out the door, but she didn't refuse him.� Suddenly she

couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't believe what she'd

heard.� She had AIDS .� . . AIDS .� . . the killer that all her

patients died of .� .

. her life was over.� It wasn't, of course, she could live for years

with the proper care, and she knew that.� But she had the virus in her

blood, waiting there, like a sniper or a time bomb.� "Go home," Sam was

saying to her, "get into bed, and stay there.� I'll come by and check

on you later."

"You don't have to, I'm fine.� And thank you for finishing up for

me."

He was a great guy and she was deeply fond of him.� He was so

incredibly kind and gentle with her dying patients.� She wondered if

she should tell him what had happened, it made perfect sense to tell

him, but she didn't want LK anyone to know.� Not yet.� Not until she

had to.� Not Sam.� Not her friends.

No one.� Not even her nurses.� Except Dick Franklin, of course, she

knew she'd have to tell him she was infected with the AIDS wirus,

although she had been scrupulously careful, and knew there had been no

risk to him.� But purely ethically, she wanted to tell him, although

she had no intention of sleeping with him again.� But there was no one

else she wanted to share her bad news with.� As she did with everything

else, she kept it to herself.� Zoe Phillips did not cry on anyone's

shoulder.

But Zoe cried all the way home, in the old Volkswagen van, and when she

reached her house, she looked almost as ravaged as she felt.� The all

pair looked shocked when she walked in, and even Jade stared at her for

a moment.� "Mommy sad?"� she asked, looking worried.

"Mommy loves you," she said, holding her close, thinking that she would

have to be very careful not to cut herself, or go anywhere near Jade if

she did.� She wondered if she should wear a mask and gloves in the

house now, and then realized she was being ridiculous and panic was

settling in.� She was a doctor, she knew better than that.� But this

was so different.� It was her life.� It was hard to be rational and

objective.

She took Sam's advice and went to bed, and Jade crawled in with her,

and Zoe lay there for a long time, holding her little girl.� It was as

though the child sensed that something was terribly wrong, and she

might lose her mother somehow.� It wasn't that she "might," it was that

she would one day, Zoe reminded herself, the question was when, not if,

as it was for anyone with the AIDS virus.� But in Zoe's case, because

of how she'd contracted it, it would be sooner rather than later, and

she panicked again at the realization that she had no one to leave Jade

with when she died.� She'd(�L���������� @�L������ think it over before too long, and

decisions had to be made.

An hour later, Inge came in to tell her that Dr. Franklin was on the

phone. �Zoe hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head.� She asked

Inge to tell him that she was out, and when Inge returned, she gave Zoe

a number at Stinson Beach.� But she didn't want to talk to him on the

phone, she had already decided to send him a note.� It would be easier

to tell him in writing.� Her conscience was clear because she had been

scrupulously careful, she always was, and she knew she hadn't exposed

him to any risk.� But she still felt she had to tell him, she only

hoped that she could trust him, and that he wouldn't spread the word.

The medical community was so small and gossipy, she just didn't want

anyone to know yet, although eventually, she supposed, once she got

very sick, the news would get around.� But if she was lucky that might

not be for a very long time.� And in the meantime, she didn't want Dick

Franklin filling everyone in.� She didn't want her colleagues talking

and gossiping about her.� It wasn't anyone's business that she had

AIDS.� But despite the fact that she didn't feel close to Dick, she

felt she had no choice but to tell him the truth.� And in fact, wanting

to get it off her chest, she wrote a brief letter to him that

afternoon.� It said only what it had to, that she had tested positive,

and she felt he ought to know, but she reminded him that they had never

taken any risks.� She also told him that she needed to be on her own

for a while, and she felt that it was best now if they both moved on.

She let him very gently, and very graciously, off the hook, and reading

her note again, she wondered if he'd even call her after he got it.

Dick Franklin was interesting and intelligent, but he had never been

particularly warm.� She couldn't imagine him offering her any comfort,

or even calling to see how she was, let alone wanting to know if he

could help her with Jade.� Dick was strictly a dinner partner, a

companion for the theater or the opera, or an adult weekend, he was a

person for good times, and not bad.� But she had no expectations of

him.

All she wanted from him was that he not tell everyone at UC.� It seemed

very little to ask of him.

After she wrote the letter to him, Zoe went back to bed, and cuddled

with her daughter again.� And after a little while, Inge came to take

Jade away and give her dinner, and she l L_.

looked at her employer worriedly.� She had never seen Zoe look so

lifeless or so distressed, and Zoe had never felt as devastated as she

did now, except perhaps when her friend died.� She didn't feel ill, she

felt terrified, all she wanted to do was run and hide and put the

covers over her head, and cling to someone, but there was no one there

to hold on to.

She didn't bother to turn on the lights and it was still light outside,

although it was twilight.� And she could hear Jade playing in the next

room with Inge, as the all pair fed her dinner.� And at the comforting

sounds, Zoe drifted off to sleep, and she slept until she heard someone

speaking to her, and she looked up in surprise to see Sam Warner.� He

was standing next to her, and feeling her neck for a fever.

"How do you feel?"� he asked softly, and she had never been as grateful

to him as she was at that moment.� She could see why her patients loved

him.� He had a good heart, and a gentle manner.� Sometimes that was

more important than being a doctor.

'"Ism okay," she said honestly.� And she was, for the moment, but she

was so scared she almost felt ill, and she was angry at herself for

being so pathetic.

"No, you're not," he said bluntly.� He sat down on her bed carefully

and looked at her, checking her eyes and her color without ever

touching her, and he was puzzled.� Wou're not feverish, but you look

like shit."

She looked terribly upset more than anything, and then he had a

thought, and he decided to ask her.� "Could you be pregnant?"� She

smiled in answer, would that it were that simple, or that happy.

"I'm afraid not," she said sadly, "but it's a sweet thought.� I almost

wish I were."

"I'd be happy to help out if that would cheer you up."� She laughed and

he reached out and took her hand.� "Zoe, I know this sounds like I'm

looking for work, but I'm not."� She smiled at him, knowing how busy he

was already doing locum tenens for other doctors.� There were a lot of

doctors who asked him to cover for them, he didn't need her business.

"Kiddo, you need a break.� I don't know what's bothering you," he was

beginnillg to think it was emotional rather than physical, but it was

obvious to him she needed some time off, "but I think you need some

time away from work.� You can't give four hundred percent of youlself

all the time, and not have it take a toll eventually.� Why don't you

try and get away?"� She thought of Dick Franklirl's invitation to

Stinson the night before, but that was inappropriate now, and besides,

she didn't want to.� But she also u}ldel-stood what Sam was saying.

She needed to do something for herself.� And if she was going to have

to fight for her life, she was also going to have to try and prolong

it.� And maybe now that meant taking some time off and building her

strength up.

"I'll think about it."

"No, you won't.� I know you.� You'll be back doing rounds at seven

o'clock tomorrow morning.� Why don't you at least let me do that for

you for a few days, and you can arrive at the office like a civilized

person at nine o'clock."� The offer was very tempting, and she wasn't

sure what to say to him.� If nothing else, she would have been grateful

for just one night off to sleep and think and get her bearings.

"Would you cover for me tonight and tomorrow morning?"� she asked,

feeling exhausted again.� She wasn't sure if it was due to the disease

she was carrying, or if she was just emotionally drained by the

confirmation that she had it.

"I'll do anything you want," he said kindly, as Zoe's heart went out to

him, and she was tempted to tell him what she had just found out.� But

she didn't want to tell anyone at this point, not even Sam.� Later, she

would need him.� Eventually, she would have to cut down her practice,

maybe he would even come in with her for a while, but it was still too

soon to ask him, and it depressed her to have to think about it.

"I really appreciate this," she said softly as he stood up.

"Just shut up and get some sleep.� I'll call the service for you.

You'll probably feel great when you wake up tomorrow, I but I don't

want to see you at the hospital.� And come to think of it, why don't

you come in around ten?"

"You're going to make me lazy, Sam," she said, lying back against her

pillows, as he stopped in the doorway.

"I don't think anyone could do that."� He smiled across the room at

her.

There was a lot he would have liked to say to her, about respect and

friendship, and the kind of working relationship they shared, but he

never seemed to find the opportunities to tell her.� He had wanted to

ask her out ever since he came back to San Francisco, but she always

kept her distance.� And he'd seen her out once or twice with the

illustrious Dick Franklin.� He didn't think it was serious between

them, but he also didn't think it was appropriate to ask.� Despite the

longevity of their friendship, she was extremely private about her

life.� Yet it was hard for him not to respond to her warmth and

compassion.� He admired her more than he could ever tell her, and he

would have done anything for her.

"Thanks, Sam," she said, and he waved and closed the door behind him.

She lay in bed, lost in her own thoughts after that, for a long time.

There was so much to think about, her practice, her daughter, her

health, their future.� It was all racing through her head, and as she

closed her eyes again, it all seemed like a blur.� And then suddenly,

as she lay there, she thought of Tanya.� It was exactly the kind of

thing she would have recommended for one of her patients, and as she

thought about it again, she decided to take her own good advice and

call her.

She looked in her address book and dialed the number.� She knew it was

a private line, somewhere in Tanya's house.� For a minute, Zoe thought

she wasn't there, and then she answered on the fourth ring.� She

sounded out of breath and there was music in the background.� She was

alone at that hour, and she had been outside doing exercises by the

pool.

"Hello?"� She sounded exactly the way she had in college, it was odd

how some things about them had never changed, and others had far too

much.

"Tanny?"� Zoe's voice was soft and tired and vulnerable as she reached

out to her, and for a moment she wanted to melt into her arms and

dissolve in tears.� But she forced herself to be strong as she spoke to

her, and Tanya never suspected how distressed Zoe was, or that she had

a problem.

"I didn't think I'd hear frorm you so soon."� Tanya sounded surprised

but pleased to hear her.� They had talked to each other only the day

before, after two long years, and it surprised her to get another call

so soon from Zoe.� "What's up?"

"Something crazy happened today."� Something very crazy, in fact, but

she didn't say that.� "There's a doctor who does relief for me

sometimes.

He's kicking me out of my office for a few days.� He says he needs the

work."

"Are you serious?"� Tanya still sounded startled, she still didn't

understand why Zoe had called her.

"I am .� . . and I was thinking .� . . the trip you talked about .� .

.

Wyoming .� . . I don't suppose .� . . I wouldn't want to intrude or

anything .� . . are you going with anyone?� I just thought .� .."

Tanya understood the reason for her call then, and it was the perfect

opportunity for them to be together.� But she knew that if Zoe knew

Mary Stuart was joining them, she probably wouldn't come.� There was

plenty of time to explain it to them once they got there, and Tanya was

sure that if they made it that far, everything would be all right at

long last between them.

"No, I'm going alone," she lied.� She quickly gave her all the details

and suggested she fly directly to Jackson Hole.� If Zoe came to L.A. to

drive to Wyoming with them, Tanya didn't want to take a chance on Mary

Stuart's refusing to get on the bus with them.� She was sure that once

they were at the ranch, it would be a wonderful reunion.� But before

they got there, she didn't want to give either of them a chance to back

out.

"I can only come for a week though," Zoe said firmly.� She was already

panicking at the thought of leaving her practice.� But it was the kind

of thing she was going to have to do now, if she wanted to maintain her

health.� But in any case, a week was long enough.

"That's fine.� Maybe we'll talk you into the second week once you get

there," Tanya said happily.� She couldn't think of anything nicer than

a vacation with her two oldest friends from college.

"You're not bringing a date, are you?"� Zoe asked, having heard the

first person plural, but when Tanya said she wasn't, she figured the we

was just a figure of speech.� It never even occurred to her that Tanya

had invited Mary Stuart.

"What about your baby?"� Tanya asked her candidly.� She would have made

adjustments either way.� And Zoe thought about it for a long moment and

then shook her head slowly.

"I don't think so, Tan.� She's really too little.� She won't enjoy it

at her age, and it might do me good to really get away for a change."

Although in some ways, Zoe hated to do it.� She was reluctant to leave

the baby and her patients.

"You're all right though, right?"� There was something in Zoe's voice

that worried Tanya, but it was nothing she could put her finger on, and

Zoe kept insisting that there was no problem.� But there was something

in the way she sounded that Tanya vaguely remembered, something about

her voice that was reminiscent of when Zoe was in trouble or distraught

over something years before, like Ellie.� But it had been so long since

they'd seen each other that Tanya didn't dare press her, or accuse her

of lying.

"I'm fine," Zoe reassured her.� "And I can't wait to see you."� She was

a good rider, a good friend, and with any luck at all, Tanya thought,

by the first night, Zoe and Mary Stuart would have made peace with each

other, and they'd all be together again, just like old times.

"See you at the ranch," Tanya said as she signed off.� She was so happy

that Zoe had called her.

"See you then."� Zoe smiled, and rolled over on her side in bed and

hung up.� It was so unlike her to drop everything and leave her

practice, and yet she knew she had to do it.� She was going to do

everything she could now to prolong her life.� It had been precious to

her before, but with little Jade to think about, it was even more

precious now.� And knowing what she'd have to fight eventually, the

trip to Wyoming becarme suddenly very important.

Sam worked with Zoe for several hours the following week, to acquaint

himself with her current patients.� There were a number of them he knew

from covering for her on the odd night, here and there.� But when he

read all the current files of her most acutely ill patients, he was

stunned by how many she handled.� She had roughly fifty terminally ill

patients, and there were more arriving on her doorstep every day, and

sometimes every night.

They were brought in by fIiends, or relatives, or just simply people

who had heard about what she was doing.� They were all very sick, some

who had AIDS, and others who didn't.� She took care of all of them, and

Sam was particularly touched by the children.� There were so many

little ones with AIDS.� It made you grateful for every healthy child

you'd ever seen.� Sam knew why Zoe was particularly appreciative of

Jade.� She was a truly remarkable baby, and wonderfully healthy.

"I can't believe the number of patients you see every day," Sam

commented late one afternoon, "it's inhuman.� No wonder you're tired

all the time."� It would have been so easy then to just tell him she

had AIDS.� But it wasn't his problem, or his business.� She had already

decided she wasn't going to make it anyone's burden but her own, for as

long as she could do it.� She was planning to save money for herself to

put aside for medical care and treatment, for nursing care if it ever

came to that.� The only real problem she had was Jade, and what to do

with her when she died.� It seemed awful to be thinking like that, but

Zoe knew she had to.� Part of her was still resisting it, but another

part had already accepted her fate.� It seemed an incredible end to a

bright career, and if she let herself, she could dwell on her bad luck

and ill fate, but she really didn't want to do that.� She just wanted

to enjoy whatever time she had.� And she knew she might have years,

even a decade, it didn't happen often, but it happened to some that

way, and she was going to do everything she could to ensure that it

happened to her.� The trip to Wyoming was part of that, the rest, the

scenery, the altitude, the air, along with the comfort of seeing her

old friend Tanya.

"What about this one?"� Sam interrupted her reverie to hold out a file

to her.� It belonged to an extremely sick young man.� He had already

entered the last stages of AIDS dementia, and Zoe doubted that he would

last much longer.� He had put up a valiant fight for months, and there

wasn't much she could do now, except make him comfortable, and console

his lover.� She visited him every day.� She explained it all to Sam and

he shook his head.� Hers was the most unorthodox of all the practices

he worked for, but it was also the most creative in terms of treatment,

and he was deeply moved by her compassion.� She seemed to leave no

stone unturned in seeking out new antibiotics, medications, ways of

treating infection and pain, and even unusual holistic treatments.� She

did anything she could to beat the disease, right till the bitter end,

and to comfort the patient.

"One of these days we'll get lucky," she said sadly.� But not soon

enough for all of them.� Or even for herself now.

"I think they got lucky when they found you," he said, looking at her

with ever increasing admiration.� He had always liked her so much, and

he liked her even more now.� She was everything a physician should be,

and most weren't accessible personally but she was.� He wondered if it

had anything to do with the lover who had died of AIDS years before.

He wondered if she had loved anyone since then, and guessed that she

hadn't.

Surely not Dick Franklin.� Sam would have liked to be closer to her.

She had always been very open with him, and very friendly, but he never

felt there was any interest on her part in being more than friends and

business associates and collaborating physicians.

And particularly lately she felt she couldn't allow herself to be close

to anyone.� She was very careful to put a safe distance between herself

and the rest of the world, even Sam, whom she had known since med

school.� She didn't want to mislead him or anyone, to lead them on, or

provide a come-on.� She wanted to make it clear to everyone that she

was not available as a woman, only as a doctor.� It seemed the only

fair way to handle her situation.� She had even thought about buying

herself a cheap wedding band, and she forced herself not to think of

the lonely path she was taking.

But as they worked on the last of the files, Sam glanced at her again

and wondered if he could ask her out to dinner.� There was still plenty

to talk about, and he was in no hurry to go home.� "Can I talk you into

something to eat while we finish up?� I thought we could go out for

pasta in the neighborhood or something.� Any interest?"� he asked,

nearly holding his breath and feeling stupid for it.� She made him feel

like a kid sometimes, and he liked that.� He liked everything about

her.� He always had.� And over the years, he had come to admire her

more, and like her better.

"That sounds fine," she said with no clue at all that he found her even

remotely attractive.� She had wanted to take him out anyway, to thank

him for giving her the opportunity to leave town and have a real

vacation.

She felt a little guilty leaving Jade, but he had promised he'd keep an

eye on her too, and stop in and see her and the all pair when he left

the office.

"You're really a full-service on-call doctor," she teased as she slid

into the booth in a little Italian restaurant in the Upper Hight.� She

had come here for years, and she liked it.� It was quiet, and the food

was good, and it was the first time she and Sam had sat down and talked

to each other over dinner since med school.� They laughed about how

long it had been.� Although their paths had crossed regularly over the

past eighteen years, they'd never really had time alone together, they

were always working.

They both ordered ravioli, and he offered her wine but she refused, and

then they settled down to talk about work again.� They were halfway

through dinner when he looked at her with his boyish grin, and

something warm and friendly in his eyes that made her feel surprisingly

easy with him, more than ever.

"Don't you do anything but work?"� he asked gently.� He admired her,

but he felt sorry for her too.� She did so much for so many people, and

he knew firsthand how draining it was.� But there didn't seem to be

anyone to do anything for her.� And he couldn't imagine her deriving

any real comfort from her relationship with Dick Franklin, or anyone

like him.

"Not lately," she answered him, "except for Jade."� And then he

wondered about something.

"Have you ever been married?"� He didn't think so, and he realized he'd

been right when she shook her head.

"Never."� She didn't seem in the least bothered about it.� She was

comfortable with her life, and happy with her daughter.� Her life

seemed enormously fulfilling.

But Sam was curious about it.� "Why not?� If you don't mind my

asking."

She smiled.� She didn't mind at all.� Except for her illness, she had

no secrets from him.� "I never really wanted to, when I was young.� And

the only man I probably should have married died over ten years ago.

He contracted AIDS from a transfusion.� Thanks to him, I started the

clinic.� He was in research and he was brilliant.� He had bypass

surgery at forty-two, and eventually it killed him.� He didn't live a

year after the transfusion.� I thought about going into research with

him.� I'd always been intrigued with unsolved mysteries, and remote

diseases.� And then AIDS came along, and I got caught up in the

physical-care end of it and not the research."

"It would have been a real loss to a lot of people if you'd done

something different," he said gently, and he meant it.� She was a

fantastic physician.� He knew about the doctor who'd died too, but he'd

heard about him from other people.� And he watched her as she told

him.

She looked sad, but not devastated, and he sensed that she'd recovered,

although she'd obviously never found anyone who meant as much to her.

"Before AIDS, I was fairly involved in juvenile diabetes.� In its own

way, that's another scourge like this one, although it gets a lot less

attention."

"I've always been interested in it too.� And I guess I'm a scavenger of

sorts, I love visiting other people's practices, picking up little bits

and pieces of information, and solving problems, doing what I can, and

then moving on.� It probably sounds irresponsible, but I've never

wanted my own practice.� That just seems like a lot of paperwork and

red tape, and issues that have nothing to do with medicine or

patients.

I like doing hands-on work, I don't want to waste time with contracts

and insurance and worrying about property, and all the politics

established doctors get involved with.� Maybe I just haven't grown up

yet.� I keep waiting for it to happen, I keep thinking that one of

these days I'll want to associate with a group of docs and join their

office, but I never do.� What I see of most of them turns me off

completely, except on a rotating basis, the way I do it with you.� This

way, I get to do all the good stuff."

She smiled at what he said.� It was a little bit like the philosophy of

emergency room doctors.� They wanted to deal with the patients and not

the paper or the overhead or the problems.� But in her case she would

have missed the long-term relationships she developed.� "You remind me

a little of the Lone Ranger," she said, smiling, ". . . who was that

masked man, Tonto?� .

.

. My patients love you.� You do a great job.� And I can't really blame

you for avoiding all the crap that goes with an ordinary practice.

I've really missed not having partners, it's so much more work like

this.� But I also like not having the headaches, the arguments, the

pettyjealousies, and all the problems.� When Adam died, he made it

possible to set up the kind of clinic I wanted, and do it exactly the

way I thought it should be.� But it's still awfully hard not having

adequate help, except on occasion."� She smiled at him again, and he

found himself wondering again how involved she was with Dick Franklin,

but he was afraid to ask her.

"Were you planning to marry Adam before he got sick?"� He was curious

about her, about them, about the baby she'd adopted and why, and why

she seemed so comfortable alone.� She was an intriguing woman.

"Not really.� I think we might have eventually, but we didn't talk

about it.� He'd been married, and he had kids.� And I was busy building

up my practice as an internist.� I was in a practice with two other

docs then, but I left it when I set up the clinic.� I never felt

compelled to be married, or even to be with anyone indefinitely.� We

saw each other a lot, and we were very close, but we didn't live

together actually until he was dying.� I took three months off work and

took care of him.� It was very sad," but she looked as though she had

made her peace with it.� She was serious, but not grieving.� It had

been a long time since he'd died and a lot had happened in the

meantime.� She still saw his children from time to time, but she hadn't

been close to them, it was only after Jade was born that she actually

understood the extraordinary joy of having children.� He asked her

about that too, and she told him how it had come about.� Jade's mother

had been nineteen years old, unmarried, and had no desire to keep the

baby.� And her family had refused to take her in when they discovered

that the baby was Asian.

"She's the greatest thing that ever happened to me," Zoe said simply.

And then she turned the tables on him.� "What about you?"

She knew he'd been married briefly in Chicago.� "What happened with

your marriage?"� They had lost track of each other during their

residencies, and by the time he came back to San Francisco, his

marriage was behind him and he said very little about it, and it was

rare for Sam and Zoe to take a night off, just to talk, like this.

"The marriage lasted for two miserable years, while I was doing my

residency," he explained, looking thoughtful.� "Poor kid, I never saw

her.� You know what that's like.� She hated it.� She said she'd never

get involved with another doctor.� But she was genetically doomed.� Her

father was a big thoracic surgeon in Grosse Pointe, her brother is a

sports doctor in Chicago, and after me she wound up marrying a plastic

surgeon.

She has three kids and lives in Milwaukee, and I think she's very

happy.

I haven't seen her in years.� And when I first came back to California,

I lived with a woman for several years, but neither of us ever had any

interest in getting married.� We'd both had bad experiences before, and

neither of us was ready.� You remind me a little bit of her actually.

She's kind of a saint like you.� She had a real need to make a

difference, and she was always pressuring me about it.� In the end, she

did what she had to do, and I stayed behind.� She's a

nurse-practitioner in a leper colony in Botswana."� Zoe vaguely

remembered hearing about her, but it was before Sam had done locum

tenens for her, and Zoe had never met her.

"Wow!� That's serious."� Zoe looked at him, fascinated by what she was

hearing.� "And she couldn't talk you into joining her?"� Zoe thought it

sounded vaguely appealing, but Sam clearly didn't, as he shook his

head, with a look of horror.

"Not on your life."� He grinned.� "No matter how much I loved her.� I

hate snakes, I hate bugs, I was never in the Boy Scouts, and I think

camping trips and sleeping bags are sheer torture.� I was definitely

not cut out for a life serving mankind in the jungle.� I like my nice

comfortable bed at night, a good meal, a warm restaurant, a glass of

wine, and the wildest vegetation I want to see is in Golden Gate Park

on a weekend.� Rachel comes over here about once a year, and I'm still

crazy about her, but we're just friends now.� She lives with the head

of the leper colony, and they have a baby.� She loves Africa and she

says I don't know what I'm missing."

"By not having children, or by living here?"� Zoe was laughing, but it

was quite a story.

"Both.� She says she'll never leave Africa.� But you never know.� The

politics over there get pretty scary.� It's definitely not for me.

She's a great gal, and she did the right thing.� She left five years

ago, and I don't know, the time has just flown.� I'm forty-six years

old and I guess I've just forgotten to get married."

"Me too," she laughed at him, "my parents used to go crazy over it.

They both died in the last few years, so there's no one to bug me about

it anymore."� And now she knew she certainly wouldn't be getting

married.

But talking about his own life suddenly made Sam feel braver.

"What about Dr. Franklin?"� He felt nervous asking her, but he was

curious.� And she definitely didn't put out vibes that said she was

open to invitations.� He wanted to know if it was because of Dick

Franklin, or if there were other reasons, maybe even someone else he

didn't know about.� It was hard to believe that a woman like Zoe only

cared about her practice and her baby.

"What about Dick?"� Zoe asked, looking puzzled.� "We're good friends,

that's all.� He's an interesting man," she said kindly, but Sam was

looking into her eyes for deeper meaning.

"You don't give much away, do you?"� he said, and she laughed at him.

"What exactly do you want to know, Dr. Warner?� How serious is it?� It

isn't.� As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing him anymore.� I'm not

seeing anyone, and that's the way I intend to keep it."� There was

something very firm about her voice as she said it that startled him.

He couldn't figure out what she was saying.� But there was a message

there for anyone who chose to listen.

"Are you planning to go into a convent sometime soon?"� he teased.� "Or

are you just going to freelance?"� Looking at him, she suddenly had to

laugh at herself.� This was very new to her, and she realized she could

have learned a lot from her patients.� How did they manage it?� What

did they say?� She knew that many of them told people they had AIDS

before they began relationships, but she didn't want to do that

either.

She just wanted to keep to herself, and enjoy her life with Jade.� It

would have been different if there had been someone in her life when it

happened, but since there wasn't, as far as she was concerned, the

doors were closed now.

"I don't have time for a relationship," she said simply, and he looked

startled.� The way she said it sounded so final, and seemed so unlike

her.� She was such a warm person, and it was such a waste to think of a

woman like Zoe without a man in her life.� It really bothered Sam.

"Are you telling me you've made a conscious decision to that effect, at

your age?" �He looked horrified by the prospect.

"More or less."� She was referring to the decision she'd made, but she

didn't want to get into it with him, and they were getting onto

dangerous ground, which she didn't want to happen.� But he was ready to

pursue the subject with her with dogged determination.� "I can't give

anything to anyone, Sam, I'm too involved in my practice, and with my

daughter."� It was an excuse, but Sam felt certain that she meant it.

"Zoe, that's bullshit," he said firmly, "you're wrong if you think you

can't give anything to anyone.� There's more to life than just devoting

yourself to your work and your baby."� He wondered why she was so

determined to stay alone, if she was still mourning her old flame,

though he doubted it, since he knew she'd gone out with Dick

Franklin.

But why wouldn't she get involved with anyone?� Why was she hiding?

She couldn't be that obsessed with her child and her work, or was

she?

"You're too young to close the doors on a relationship in your life.

Zoe," he said firmly, "you have to rethink this."� He felt a sense of

personal loss as he looked at her and realized that she meant it.

She smiled at him, but she was unmoved by what he had said so far.

"You sound like my father.� He used to tell me that overeducated women

threaten men, and I was making a big mistake when I went to Stanford.

College was okay, but medical school was pushing.� He said that if I'd

wanted to be in medicine, I should have gone to nursing school and

saved him a lot of money."� She was laughing as she said it, and Sam

shook his head.� He knew about people like her.� His whole family were

doctors, including his mother.

"Well, you should have gone to nursing school, if becoming a doctor was

going to make you come to a dumb decision like that one.� Zoe, that's

just plain stupid."� He wondered if she'd had a bad experience, been

raped perhaps, or if Franklin had actually done something to upset her

and it was still fresh, or maybe she was involved with someone

secretly, maybe someone married.� Or maybe she was just telling him,

nicely, that she wasn't interested in him, but he hoped that wasn't the

case either.

Otherwise he just couldn't understand it, but she seemed very firm

about it.

She turned the conversation then to other things, which frustrated him

even more.� He found that they had even more in common than he'd

previously thought, people, plans, their shared views about medicine,

and passion for all it represented.� Worse yet, he realized that he was

even more attracted to her than he'd previously suspected.� She had a

great sense of humor, and a quick mind.� She had traveled extensively,

and there was something wonderfully honest and genuine about her.� She

told things the way they were, analyzed situations very astutely, and

as she talked about her patients to him, it was obvious how much she

loved them.� She was the first woman he had met in a long time that he

was really crazy about and wanted desperately to go out with. �He had

been attracted to her for years, but he had always hesitated to do

anything about it, and having dinner with her and talking to her about

a variety of things had infatuated him with her completely.� And she

was even more tantalizing because she was so insistent that she had

given up on having any relationship and she wouldn't even discuss it

with him.� He felt sure there was another reason, most likely an affair

with someone she was protecting, and the more he thought about it, the

more he wondered if it was someone married.� But as far as he was

concerned, she could have said that.� In fact, everything in her life

pointed to it, the fact that she had so much time available to spend on

her work, that she had no desire to get married, she was obviously

involved and didn't want to admit it.� And he was very sorry to know

that.

And as Zoe watched him as they ate, and afterward as they sat and drank

cappuccino, she found that she liked him too.� He was exactly what he

had always seemed, a real teddy bear of a man, someone intelligent and

kind, someone you could really count on.� And he was as enamored as she

was with her clinic.� He thought it had been an incredible thing to do,

an enormous undertaking, and he admired her a great deal for it.

"I think of all the practices I've seen, yours is the one I most enjoy,

and most respect.� I really like the way you handle your patients,

particularly the home care."

"That was the hardest part to set up actually, to find the right people

that you could trust without monitoring them constantly.� I watch them

very closely, but they still have a lot of leeway.� The patients take a

lot of responsibility too, though."� Many of her patients' lovers and

families cared for them almost without professional assistance, until

the very end when they were assisted by hospice groups.� Dying of AIDS

was not an easy business.

They talked again for a while then of what she wanted him to do while

she was gone, and he smiled as he listened to her.� He knew it was

going to be hard for her to leave them, and he tried to reassure her

that her patients would be in good hands with him, and she believed

him.

"So tell me about Wyoming," he asked genially over their second cup of

cappuccino.� But he noticed when it came that Zoe was looking

exhausted.

He had noticed several times recently how tired she looked, but he

didn't think much about it.� Her practice was so draining that it

wasn't surprising she was pale, and it was only tonight that he also

noticed a certain gauntness to her figure.� She was obviously in

serious need of a vacation, and he was glad for her that she was

going.

"Who are you going to Wyoming with?� You're not going camping, are

you?"� he asked, wishing for an insane moment that he were going with

her.

She laughed at his question.� "I don't think so.� I'm actually going

with an old friend, from college.� She's an incredible woman, and I

haven't seen her in a while, but she called the other day and invited

me.� At first, I turned her down, but when I felt so lousy, I decided

to do it.

But believe me, knowing my friend, it won't be camping.� She's even

more spoiled than I am."� Zoe was not a camping aficionado either, and

never had been.� Like Sam, she didn't like bugs, snakes, or

creepy-crawlies.

"She lives in L.A and I'm sure we're going to the Hollywood ranch of

all time, if she could find one."

"Who is she?"� he asked casually as the check came, and he opened his

wallet.� "Is she a physician?"

Zoe smiled before she answered.� "Not exactly.� She's a singer.� We've

been friends since school, and she's never changed, not that anyone

would believe it.� The media give her a bad break, it's really not

fair."

She looked thoughtful as she said it.� "I almost hate telling people

who she is, they immediately leap to a million inaccurate

conclusions."

"I'm fascinated," he said, looking straight at Zoe as the waitress took

the check away with his money.� He was so intrigued by her, by the deep

green eyes, and everything he saw there.� "So who is she?"

"Tanya Thomas," Zoe said quietly.� To her, it was just a name, to

everyone else it was a lifetime of hype, a million lies, a golden

voice, a thousand images they'd seen, she was the legend, and Sam had

the usual reaction.� His eyes widened, his mouth dropped, and then he

laughed at his own reflexes and grinned, feeling sheepish.

"I don't believe it.� You know her?"

"She was my best pal in college.� We were roommates.� I love her more

than any other friend I've ever had," she said quietly.� "I don't see

her enough, but whenever we can get together it's all still there.

It's amazing, no matter what happens to either of us, nothing ever

changes.

She's a remarkable woman.

"Wow!� I'm impressed."� He couldn't help saying it, and he meant it.

"I know that sounds dumb, but it always amazes me that someone knows

people like that, that they hang out with them, that they sit around

and eat pizza and drink coffee like the rest of us, and wash their hair

and wear pajamas.� It's pretty hard to think of them as real people."

"She's suffered a lot from that.� I gather she's getting divorced

again.

I think it would be impossible to have a normal life with the kind of

pressures she lives with.� She married a really nice guy when we got

out of college, her high school sweetheart, but within a year, she hit

it big, she had a gold record and a career, and I think it just blew

her marriage.� Poor Bobby Joe didn't know what hit him, and neither did

Tanny.� She married a real shit after that, her manager, and he ripped

her off, predictably, and was pretty abusive to her.� I think it was

fairly typical for the milieu, but it was miserable for her.� And three

years ago she married some guy in L.A I think he's a developer.� I

thought it was going to work, but now they're breaking up, and he won't

let her take his kids to Wyoming, as planned, so she had this cabin at

a dude ranch, and she asked me to go with her."� She made it all sound

so ordinary that it amused him.

"Lucky you!"� he said, and meant it.� "What fun!"

"Yeah, seeing Tanny will be fun more than anything.� Neither of us are

that crazy about horses," she laughed.� "Actually, all I want to do is

sleep for the whole week."

"It might do you good," he said, looking at her with concern, and then

he looked at her oddly.� "You're all right, Zoe, aren't you?� You've

been looking tired, and I know you weren't feeling great last week.� I

think you're really pushing."� He said it very gently, and what he said

touched her deeply.� She was so used to taking care of other people,

that when anyone took care of her it surprised her.

"I'm fine.� Honestly," she said, but she wondered what he had seen.

She wondered suddenly if she looked ill.� She was tired, but she didn't

look any different to herself when she looked in the mirror.� She had

no sores, no other signs.� There were no indications that she had AIDS,

and she knew there might not be for a long time, or there could be a

lot of them at any moment.� And her greatest risk was from infection.

But she knew what she had to do to protect herself, and she was being

careful.

"You're sweet to ask," she said, and was surprised when he reached

across the table and took her hand.� She hadn't expected him to do

that.

"I care about you.� I want to help you, but most of the time you're

pretty stubborn."� The way he said it made her look into his eyes.

They were dark brown, and infinitely gentle.

"Thank you, Sam .� .."� Feeling a wave of emotion wash over her, she

looked away from him, and then took away her hand a moment later.� She

knew more than ever that she couldn't let her guard down.� No matter

how kind and appealing he was, she couldn't let herself do it.

It had been so easy with Dick, when she went out with him.� They were

just friends, and if they took it a little further than that once in a

while, there was no harm done.� She had no illusions about how he felt

about her.� He just wanted a comfortable companion from time to time,

someone to go to the theater with him, or the symphony, or the ballet,

or an expensive dinner.� But he wanted nothing more from her than she

wanted to give.� In fact, if she'd given him more than that, it would

have scared him.� Dick knew exactly how far he wanted to go with her,

and he was always careful to keep his distance.

And although she would have liked a serious relationship with someone,

there hadn't really been anyone who'd appealed to her that way in

years, and it was easier to avoid the cheap imitations.� And now that

her whole life had changed, it was such bad luck to discover that Sam

Warner might have once been important to her.� She had never realized

how deep he was, how kind, how compassionate, how in tune with what she

was doing.� She had just thought of him as a good doctor, a good

friend.� And now she found that there was more to him, and to what she

felt for him, and she had no right to explore it further.� The door to

that part of her life was closed forever.� What could she possibly give

anyone now?� A few months?� A few years?� Even if it were five or ten,

it wouldn't be fair to them.� And through it all, there was always the

remote but potential risk of illness for them.� She had lived through

all of that with Adam.� She couldn't do that to anyone.� And she had no

intention of doing it to Sam.

There was not a chance in the world that she was going to let him come

any closer to her.� They were colleagues and friends, and nothing more,

and she absolutely would not let him come beyond her limits, and he

sensed that.� It made him sad as they left the restaurant.� As much as

he liked her, he could sense that she was pulling back from him.� He

didn't know why, but he didn't like it, and he sensed correctly that

there was nothing he could do about it.

He looked at her for a long moment as they sat in his car outside the

restaurant.� "I had a great time tonight," he said honestly, and she

nodded.

"So did I, Sam."

"And I want you to have a good time in Wyoming," he said as he looked

into her eyes, and she felt as though she could feel his thoughts and

she didn't want to.� She didn't want him to open his heart to her, or

ask her to open hers, or worse yet have to tell him why she couldn't.

As far as she was concerned, no one had the right to know that.

"Thank you for covering for me," she said, and meant it.� It was a

relief to talk about their work and not their feelings.� She sensed

easily that she was on dangerous ground with him, and as she looked at

him in his tweed jacket and gray turtleneck, she forced herself not to

feel any attraction to him, but it wasn't easy.

"You know I'll cover for you anytime," he said, still not starting the

car.� There was something he wanted to say to her, and he wasn't sure

how to do it.� "I want to talk to you when you come back," he said, and

she didn't dare ask him why.� She was suddenly afraid that after all

this time he was suddenly going to press her.� It wasn't fair that it

should happen now.� It was just too bad they hadn't discovered their

attraction for each other sooner.� She had been completely blind to

what he felt before, and even to the fact that he was actually very

attractive.� "I think some of what we said tonight deserves a little

more conversation," he said, sounding very definite and a little

daunting.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," she said quietly, slowly

looking up at him.� There was a lifetime of sorrows in her eyes, and it

took all the strength he had not to put his arms around her, but he

knew that for now at least it was not what she wanted.� "There are some

things best left unsaid, Sam."

"I don't agree with youss he said, his eyes boring into hers, begging

her to listen.� "You're a brave woman.� I've seen you look death in the

eye and defy it many times.� You can't be cowardly about your own

life."

It seemed odd to her that he should say that, and for a moment she

panicked about what he was thinking.� But she knew that he couldn't

have discovered her secret.� The lab results had had no name and had

been numbered.

"I don't think I am cowardly about my own life," she said sadly.� "I've

made some choices that are right for me, not out of cowardice, but out

of wisdom."

"That's bullshit," he said, leaning frighteningly close to her, and she

turned away from him and looked out the window.

"Sam, don't .� . . I can't."� There were tears in her eyes, but he

never saw them.

"Just tell me one thing," he asked, staring straight ahead of him.� All

he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her, but out of

respect for her and her crazy ideas, he didn't.� "Is there someone

else?

Tell me honestly.� I want to know."

She hesitated for a long time.� It was the perfect out.� All she had to

do was tell him that she was involved with someone else, but she was

too honest to do that.� She hadn't even bought the wedding band she had

planned to.� She shook her head as she looked back at him.� "No, there

isn't, but that doesn't change anything.� You have to understand

that.

I can be your friend, Sam, but I can't give anyone more than that.

It's just that simple."

"I don't understand," he said, trying not to look angry or as bereft as

he felt.� But he was so frustrated by what she was saying.� "I'm not

asking you to make a commitment to me.� I'm just asking you to be open,

that's all.� If I don't appeal to you, if there's nothing there you'd

want to explore further, then I understand, but you keep telling me

that the door to that whole part of your life is closed, and I don't

understand that.� Is it the man who died?� Are you still mourning

him?"

Eleven years later that seemed unreasonable to him, but who was he to

decide that?� But she shook her head again as he watched her.

"No, it isn't.� I made my peace with Adam's death a long time ago.

Sam, trust me, let's be friends.� Besides," she smiled gently at him

and touched his hand, "believe me, I'm hard to get along with."

"You certainly are," he said as he started the car.� She had completely

tantalized him, and he hadn't expected that.� He had been attracted to

her for years, but his feelings had always been in check, and had long

since settled into an easy friendship.� He had never expected to be

completely bowled over by her, and then find that the door behind which

she hid had been locked and sealed forever.� The very thought of it

drove him crazy.� And as he drove her home, he kept glancing at her,

she was so peaceful and beautiful, she seemed almost luminous as she

sat there.� She was like a young saint, and he knew just looking at her

that she had a remarkable spirit.� He kept trying to remind himself

that you can't always have everything you want in life, but it seemed

incredibly unfair when he thought about Zoe.� And when they reached her

house, he came around and opened the door for her, and she seemed

almost waiflike as he helped her out, and her arm in his hand felt like

a child's as he held it.

"Try to fatten up a little at the ranch," he said with a look of

concern, "you need it."

"Yes, Doctor," she said, looking up at him with tenderness in her

eyes.

She almost wished that things could have been different.� "I had a

wonderful time.� You'll have to come and have dinner with Jade and me

when I get back.� I make a great hot dog."

"Maybe I should take the two of you out to dinner."� He smiled, wishing

he could pull her out from her fortress.� He could sense more than

anything else about her that she was hiding.� He didn't know why, but

he could see it in her eyes, and try as he might he couldn't reach

her.

But he had, more than he knew that night, so much so that she was

frightened of him.

"I had a lovely time.� Thanks, Sam."

"So did I, Zoe .� . . and I'm sorry if I pressed you."� He was afraid

he might have driven her into hiding even further.

"It's all right.� I understand."� She understood more than she wanted

to, and she was flattered and touched but unmoved by it.� Her own

resolve was still stronger.

"I'm not sure you do understand.� I'm not sure I do," he said sadly.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time.� Since medical school

actually.� Maybe I just waited too long."� He looked unhappy as he

stood there.

"Don't worry about it, Sam.� It's all right," she said, and patted his

arm, and he walked her slowly to her door.� And as they stood there he

wished he could kiss her.� He wasn't coming to the clinic the next day,

but she knew she would see him again before she took off, and she took

comfort in that.� If nothing else, they could at least occasionally

work together.

"I'll see you in a few days," he said, and kissed the top of her head,

and then as she opened the door, he ran swiftly down the steps back to

his car, and then he stood there and watched her go in.� She turned,

and their eyes met for one last time, and then she waved and went

inside.

And a moment later, she heard his car drive away, and inside the car,

he looked dazed by the power of what he was feeling.� The evening had

been nothing like what he'd expected.� But neither was Zoe.� And

despite all he felt for her, and their old friendship, more than ever,

she was a mystery to him.

The day Mary Stuart left New York she stood for a last time in her

living room and looked around her apartment.� The shades were drawn,

the curtains were closed, the air-conditioning was off, and the

apartment was slowly warming up.� For the past week there had been a

tremendous heat wave.� She had talked to Alyssa in Holland the night

before, she was having a fantastic time traveling with five friends,

and Mary Stuart suspected she was having her first really serious

romance.� She was happy for her, and still more than a little sad to

have missed their opportunity to travel around Europe together.

She had spoken to Bill several times too.� He was working hard, and he

sounded startled when she told him she was going to Wyoming.� He

couldn't understand why and thought she should go to Martha's Vineyard,

or the Hamptons to stay with their friends, as she had on the Fourth.

He had never really approved of her friendship with Tanya Thomas.� And

he didn't see why she wanted to go to a dude ranch.� He never thought

she had any particular affinity for horses.� He said all the things

which, years before, would have made her reconsider, but this time did

not affect her.� She wanted to spend two weeks at the ranch with

Tanya.

She wanted to be with her friend, to talk to her, and look up at the

mountains in the morning.� She suddenly realized that she needed to get

away and reevaluate her life, and if he didn't understand that, then

that was his problem.� He was in London for two months and didn't want

her with him, and he had no right now to make her feel uncomfortable

about what she was doing.� He had given up that right when he had told

her he didn't want her in London with him.� He had given up a lot of

things that year, intentionally and otherwise, and she wanted to do

some serious thinking about it.� She couldn't imagine coming back to

their relationship the way it had been, the way it had become.� She

couldn't live in the airless, loveless, joyless atmosphere he had

created.� And even though the night before he left she had caught a

glimpse of him again, there was no promise that she would find him

again at the end of the summer.� Or ever again for that matter.

She was beginning to realize that what they had once had was gone, very

probably forever.� And she doubted if what had been left in its place

was worth keeping.� She couldn't believe what she was thinking.� But

she couldn't imagine going back to him, couldn't think about living

with him that way again, never speaking, holding, touching.� They had

lost their dreams, their lives, more than just Todd had died.� In many

ways, she felt they had.� And going to Wyoming was a way of leaving

what had been, and trying to figure out what was still possible between

them.� And for an odd moment, as she looked around, she felt as though

she were leaving their old life forever.� It would never be the same

again.� She would never come back to the man who had left her so bereft

and so abandoned for the past year.� Either she would come back to the

man she had once known, or she wasn't coming back at all.� And in

either case she wanted to think about whether or not to tell Bill to

sell the apartment.� But nothing was ever going to be the same again,

nor had it been for the past year, and she knew it.

The prospect of being on her own again at her age was a frightening

one.� But the thought of being alone with him, in the tomb he had

created for both of them, was an even worse fate.� She walked down the

long hall, and stopped for a long moment in front of the room that had

been Todd's.

The curtains were gone, the bedspreads were out being cleaned.� It had

all been put away, and there was nothing left of him.� What she still

had was in her heart and her memories.� He was free now.

She picked her suitcase up again and walked slowly down the hall,

thinking about him .� . . and about Bill .� . . and Alyssa, how happy

they had once been, and how different it all was now.� The cruel hand

of fate, with a quick flick of the wrist, the dream was over.� It had

all ended so quickly.� It was strange to think about it now.� She felt

as though she had been treading water in icy seas for a long time, she

had almost drowned, but she was beginning to move forward again, still

frozen, still numb, injured and bruised, but she was beginning to think

she might not drown after all.� There was the very faintest chance now

that she might make it.� And as she stood in the doorway with the keys

in her hand, she wanted to say good-bye to someone .� . . her husband

.

. . her child .� . . the life they had once shared here.� "I love you,"

she said softly into the empty hall, not sure which of them she meant,

Bill or Todd .� . . or the life they had shared together.� And then,

with a last look, she closed the door softly behind her.

The doorman put her in a cab downstairs, and she reached Kennedy

Airport just under an hour later.� And the flight to los Angeles was

uneventful.

When Tanya left her house, it was in a flurry of activity.� She had

packed six bags, two boxes full of hats, and nine pairs of cowboy boots

in assorted shades of alligator and lizard.� Her housekeeper was

putting bags of food on the bus, and she had bought a dozen new videos

to keep them entertained on the trip across Nevada and Idaho.� It was a

long, boring ride, she'd been told, and she'd even brought half a

dozen new SCIiptS to look at.� She was currently being offered parts in

several new movies.

It was eleven o'clock and Mary Stuart's plane was coming in at

twelve-thirty.� But she wanted to make one last stop before they left,

for a little more food at Gelsen's.� The bus was already fully

stocked, but she wanted to pick up just a few final goodies.

The driver was waiting patiently outside as she kissed her dog

good-bye, thanked her housekeeper, reminded her about the security,

grabbed her hat, her handbag, her address book, and ran up the steps of

the bus, with her hair flying loose, looking sensational in a white

T-shirt and skin-tight blue jeans, and her oldest pair of bright yellow

cowboy boots.� She had bought them in Texas on her sixteenth birthday,

and they looked it.� She had worn them all through college, and

everyone who knew her knew how much she loved them.

"Thanks, Tom," she said, waving to the driver as she got on, and he

began slowly maneuvering the giant vehicle through her gates, and down

her narrow driveway.� The bus was huge, and it was divided into two

huge rooms.� A living room all done in teak and navy blue velvet, with

comfortable easy chairs, two couches, and a long table that seated

eight, and a series of small groups set for conversation.� The back

room was done in forest green, and transformed easily from another

sitting room into a bedroom.� And between the two was a large,

functional kitchen, and a white marble bathroom.� She had bought the

bus years before when she had her first platinum record.� It looked

very much like a yacht, or a very large private plane, and it had been

almost as expensive.

On the way, she and Mary Stuart would sleep in the bedroom, and they

would park outside a motel, so they could get a room for Tom.� And an

elaborate alarm system would keep them safe.� In some cases, Tanya took

security along, but she felt that this time she wasn't likely to need

it.� She was looking forward to the trip, and to spending two whole

days chatting with Mary Stuart.� Driving ten-hour days, they should be

able to reach Jackson Hole the following day in time for dinner.

They reached the airport ten minutes before Mary Stuart's plane, and

Tanya was waiting at the gate in dark glasses and a black cowboy hat

when Mary Stuart came off in jeans and a blazer, carrying a Vuitton

tote bag.� As usual, she looked immaculate, and as though someone had

pressed her jacket on the plane, and her hair looked as though she'd

just had a haircut.

"I wish I knew how you did that," Tanya said, smiling at her, and then

hugging her tight.� "You always look so damn neat and clean."

"It's congenital.� My kids hate me for it.� Todd always used to try and

mess me up," just so I'd look normal."� " She looked faintly apologetic,

and arm in arm they walked toward the baggage claim, where Tanya's bus

driver was waiting to help them.� She stood a little to one side with

her friend, and within less than a minute heads began turning, she saw

a few people whispering, some shy smiles, and five minutes later a

cluster of teenagers came over with a pen and some paper.

"May we have your autograph, Miss Thomas?"� they asked, giggling and

shoving each other.� She was used to it, and she always signed when she

was asked to.� But she also knew that if they didn't move quickly then,

she would be surrounded by fans in less than five minutes.� She knew

from experience that once she was recognized it was only a matter of

moments before it became a mob scene.� And she smiled over the kids at

Mary Stuart, as her old friend watched her.� As she signed the last

piece of paper, she whispered to her, "We gotta go .� . . it'll be

crazy in a minute."� She said something to Tom, and Mary Stuart gave

him her baggage stub and described her bag, she'd only brought one with

her, and Tanya hustled her as quickly as she could toward the exit.

But there was already a Iarge group of women and young girls heading

toward her, and two rough-looking guys grabbed her arm, and one of them

shoved a pen in her face.

"Hey, Tanya, how bout signing something for me, hey sweetheart, like

your bra."� The two of them were laughing, thinking they were very

amusing, and Tom, the bus driver, had been watching and came right

over.

"Thanks, guys, another time .� . . see ya .� .."� and before Mary

Stuart realized what had happened to them, they were out the door and

across the pavement, right in front of the women who had been hurrying

toward her.� They zipped right byjust as two women took her picture.

But Tom had the key in his hand, and unlocked the bus, shoving Tanya

ahead of him, and Mary Stuart just behind her.� They were inside and

the door was closed in a fraction of a second.� But there was already

the breathless feeling of having been stampeded.� And it reminded Mary

Stuart instantly of how difficult Tanya's life was.� She had almost

forgotten.� It happened to her everywhere.� The supermarket, the

doctor, the movies.� She couldn't go anywhere without attracting

attention.� No matter what she did to hide, they always found her.

"That was awful," Mary Stuart said succinctly, as Tanya took two Cokes

out of the fridge in the kitchen and handed her one through the doorway

with a smile at her driver.

"You get used to it .� . . almost .� . . Thanks, Tom.� That was very

smooth."

"Anytime."� He told her he was going back for Mary Stuart's bags, and

reminded Tanya to keep the door locked.

"Hell, no, I thought I'd hang out in the doorway and sell tickets."

She grinned with her cowboy hat still on.� In her hat and her boots,

she looked very Texas.

"Be careful," he warned again as he left, and the two women could see a

small crowd forming on the sidewalk, taking pictures of the bus, and

pointing to it, although they couldn't see into the bus and there was

nothing to identify it.� It was just a long, sleek, black bus with no

markings.� But they knew.� Word had gotten out.� They had seen her.

And by the time Tom got back, there were fifty people outside, pushing

and shoving and talking.� They tried to stop him as he came in, wanting

to push their way past him, but he was a powerful guy, and no one was

going to get by him.� He was on the bus, with Mary Stuart's bags, and

the door was locked again before anyone could get near him.

"Jesus, the natives are aggressive today, aren't they?"� Tanya said,

watching the crowd outside.� They still frightened her at times.� It

was scary to be so pursued, so devoured, so compulsively hunted.� And

as Mary Stuart watched her face, she was overwhelmed with pity.

"I don't know how you stand it," Mary Stuart said softly, and then they

both sat down, as the bus began rolling.

"Neither do I," Tanya said as she put her Coke can down on a white

marble table, "but you just do, I guess.� It goes with the territory.

It's just that no one really explains it to you when you grab that mike

for the first time and sing your heart out.� At first you think it's

all about you and the music.� But it isn't.� After a while, it has

nothing to do with that.� You can have that anytime, all by yourself,

out in a field, in the bathtub, anywhere you are .� . . but it's all

about the rest that comes with it.� They eat you up, if you let them.

They give you everything, their hearts, their minds, their souls, their

bodies if you want them, and then they take yours, everything you got,

and you never get it back again if you're not careful."� She knew

whereof she spoke.

She had fought long and hard to get where she was, and she had paid a

high price for it, and given up parts of herself she knew she would

never get back now.� She had given trust and caring and love, and

worked harder than anyone Mary Stuart had ever known, and in the end,

she stood alone at the top of the mountain.� It wasn't an easy place to

be.� Mary Stuart could only guess at it.� But Tanya knew it.

"So how's it going?� .� . . How was the flight?� .� . . How's

Alyssa?"

Tanya asked, settling back in one of the big club chairs for the long

drive to Winnemucca, Nevada, where they were sleeping.

"Alyssa's fine.� She's in Holland, and she's in love.� She sounds so

happy it almost hurts to hear her.� And Bill's fine too," she

volunteered, but her face saddened instantly as she said it.� "He

sounds very busy," and he didn't want her with him, she thought.� That

said it all as far as she was concerned.� She didn't say any more, but

it was obvious that she was unhappy.

"How's that going, or should I ask?"

"I'm not sure."� She hesitated for a long moment, looking out the

window.� "I've been doing a lot of thinking."� And then she looked into

her friend's eyes and remembered the endless confessions in Berkeley,

the hours they spent talking about their lives and their dreams, and

what they really wanted.� All Tanya had wanted was to marry Bobby

Joe.

Mary Stuart had wanted a job and a great husband, and good children.

She had married Bill two months after graduation, and for a while

seemed to have everything she wanted.� But she wasn't as sure now.

"I'm not sure I want to go back after the summer," she said softly, and

Tanya looked startled.

"To New York?"� She couldn't imagine her living in California.� Tanya

was her only friend there, and everything about her was so Eastern.� It

would have been a brave decision, but Mary Stuart shook her head at the

question.� Her answer shocked Tanya still further.

"No, to Bill.� I don't know.� Something happened when he left.� It's as

though he thinks he can do whatever he likes now.� He has the option to

do what he wants, to go to London for two months alone, even though I

could have been there.� The firm would even have paid for it, but he

didn't want me.� And yet I'm expected to be there for him, to run his

home, to take his messages, to cook his dinner.� But he no longer has

to speak to me, or care for me, or take me anywhere.� He's silently

blaming me for killing Todd, or at least not stopping him from what he

did.� But Bill no longer acts married to me now.� That's my

punishment.

I'm married, and he's not.� Like a sentence in purgatory, and I've been

letting him punish me because I felt so guilty.� But a funny thing

happened when I put Todd's things away, it freed me.� I feel sad, I

feel loss, I still feel terrible grief sometimes."� She had cried for

him again the night before she left, and for her marriage as well.� She

had sensed before she left that she might never come back in quite the

same way to their apartment.� "But I don't feel as guilty.� It wasn't

my fault.� It was terrible.� But it was something Todd did.� And no

matter how terrible it was, or how foolish, even though I'm his mother,

I couldn't have stopped him."

"Do you really believe that?"� Tanya asked, looking relieved.� It was

exactly what she had tried to tell her, but Mary Stuart hadn't been

ready to hear it.� Or maybe Tanya had started the process for her.� She

hoped so, as she listened.

"I believe it now," Mary Stuart said quietly.� "But I don't think Bill

does.� I think he's going to go on punishing me forever."� And then she

looked out the window as they drove out of Los Angeles County, thinking

of her husband.� "We're not married to each other anymore, Tan.� It's

all over.� I don't think he'd admit it if I asked him.� But there's

nothing left, and I think he knows it too.� If there were, I'd be in

London with him " "Maybe he just can't face you yet," Tanya tried to

say fairly, but she suspected Mary Stuart was right.� What she had told

her in New York had been a nightmare.� The silence, the loneliness, the

agony of his rejection.� And even to Tanya the fact that he didn't want

her in London with him told its own story.

"I don't think there's anything to go back to.� It took me a long time

to face that.� I think it was especially hard for me because I used to

think we had such a great marriage.� More than twenty years isn't

bad.

And it was so good when it was good," Mary Stuart said sadly.� "I

always thought we were so close and so happy.� It seems amazing that a

blow like that could end it all.� You would think it would bring us

closer."

"I don't think it works like that," Tanya said honestly.� "Most

marriages don't survive the death of children.� People blame each

other, or they just wither up inside.� I don't know, but I've read a

lot about it.� I don't think what happened is surprising."

"It's as if all those years before don't count at all.� I thought it

was like money in the bank, you store it up so that when you really

need it you have it, and then when the roof fell in I found out our

piggy bank was empty."� She smiled wistfully, but she had begun to make

her peace with it, oddly enough only in the past few weeks.� And she'd

had a lot of time to think once he left for London.� "I just don't

think I could go back to what it was like last year, and I don't think

we could ever fix it."

"Would you try if he asked you to?"� Tanya was curious.� Like Mary

Stuart, she had always thought they had a great marriage.

"I'm not sure," Mary Stuart said cautiously.� "I just don't know now.

What we went through was so painful that I don't want to go back, I

just want to go forward."� Tanya and she sat silently for a few minutes

as they headed into the San Bernardino Mountains, and then Mary Stuart

asked her a question.� They were both stretched out on the couches by

then, and Tanya had taken her hat and boots off.� It was a great way to

travel.� "What's happening with Tony?"

"Not much.� He called an attorney.� Mine is taking care of it for me.

It's all pretty predictable and relatively nasty.� He wants the house

in Malibu, and I won't give it to him.� I bought it and put most of the

money into it, and in the end I'll have to give him a bunch of money to

keep it.� And some other stuff.� He took the Rolls, and he wants

alimony and a settlement, and he'll probably get it.� He says that my

lifestyle caused him pain and suffering and he wants to get paid for

it."� She shrugged, but it made Mary Stuart livid.

"You'd think he'd be embarrassed," Mary Stuart said with a disapproving

frown.� She had always hated the things people did to Tanya.� It was as

though they thought it was all right because of who she was.� Even Tony

had given in to it finally.� It was hard for anyone to remember she was

a person, and harder still for people to resist just grabbing for what

they wanted.

Tanya hated it too, but it was something she had long since understood

and made her peace with.� It was just what happened when you became

that famous.

"Not much embarrasses him, or anyone else for that matter," Tanya said,

with her hands behind her head as she lay there.� "That's just the way

it is.� Sometimes I think I'm used to it, and sometimes it makes me

crazy.

My lawyer keeps telling me that it's just money and not to let it upset

me.� But it's my money and my life, and I worked like a dog for it.� I

don't see why some guy, any guy, should just get to come along, sleep

with you for a while, and then take half of what you've got.� It's a

hell of a price to pay for a couple of years in the sack with a guy who

cheats anyway.� What about my pain and suffering'?� I guess that's not

the issue.� We go to court next month, and the media will love it."

"Will they be there?"� Mary Stuart looked horrified.� How could they do

this to her?� But they would, and they did, and they had, for nearly

twenty years now.

"Of course they'll be there.� Courtrooms are open to the press and

TV.

First Amendment, remember?"� She looked cynical, but she knew what went

with the trappings of her business.

"That's not First Amendment, that's bullshit, and you know it."

"Tell it to the judge," Tanya said, and crossed her ankles.� She looked

glorious, but there was no one there to see it.� This was a rare bit of

privacy for her, and she trusted Tom, the driver.� He had driven for

her for years, and was the soul of discretion.� He had a wife and four

kids, and never told anyone who he worked for.� Sometimes he just said

"Greyhound."� He admired her a lot, and would have done just about

anything to protect her.

"I don't know how you stand the crap that goes with your life," Mary

Stuart said admiringly.� "I think I'd go completely berserk after about

two days."

"No, you wouldn't.� You'd get used to it, just like I did.� There are a

lot of perks.� That's what kind of sucks you in at first, they don't

hit you with the rough stuff until later, and then it's too late,

you're too far in to get out, and you figure you might as well stay for

the whole show.� I'm not sure yet myself if it's been worth it.

Sometimes I doubt it.� And sometimes I love it."� She hated the

pressure and the press and the ugliness of what was hurled at her.� But

she still enjoyed what she did, and most of the time, she stayed in it

for the music.� The rest of the time she didn't know why she did it.

They rode on in silence for a while, and then Tanya went to the kitchen

and made popcorn.� They made sandwiches late that afternoon, and Tanya

took one to Tom, with a cup of coffee.� They only stopped once, so he

could stretch, and the rest of the time theyjust pressed on, chatting

and reading, and Tanya watched a video she'd gotten from the Academy of

a first-run movie, and Mary Stuart slept while she watched it.� She was

exhausted from all her emotions before she left New York.� Ever since

Bill had left, she'd been moving toward a decision about their life and

now she thought she had made it.� As sad as it was, it was a relief in

a way.� It was time to cut their losses.� And Tanya didn't disagree

with her.� But she was sure Alyssa would be upset when her mother told

her.

She had no idea how Bill would react.� She thought it might be a relief

for him too. �Maybe it was what he had wanted all year, and hadn't had

the guts to tell her.� She was going to wait, and tell him when he got

back from London in late August, or September.� And in the meantime,

she was going to make plans for her future.� After the two weeks at the

ranch, Mary Stuart said she was going to L.A. for a week to visit

Tanya, and then she had decided to go to East Hampton for a few weeks

to get out of the city.� She had lots of friends there.� It was going

to be an interesting summer.

And Tanya was smiling at her when she woke up from her nap.� They had

traveled far from southern California by then, and had moved on through

Nevada.

"Where are we?"� Mary Stuart asked, sitting up and looking around.� And

even half asleep, she barely looked tousled.� Tanya leaned over and

messed up her hair for her, just as she had done in college, and they

both laughed.

"You look about twelve years old, Stu.� I hate you.� I spend half my

life at the plastic surgeon, and you look like that naturally.� You're

disgusting."� They both looked great and nowhere near their ages.� "By

the way, I talked to Zoe again last week," she said casually.� "She's

really doing an incredible thing with her AIDS clinic in San

Francisco."� They both agreed that it was just like her, and Tanya

commented that it was too bad she had never married.

"Somehow, I never thought she would," Mary Stuart said thoughtfully.

"I don't know why not.� She had plenty of boyfriends."

"Yeah, but her sense of nurturing was on a grander scale .� . . orphans

in Cambodia, children starving in Ethiopia, refugees from

underdeveloped countries.� Her AIDS clinic doesn't surprise me in the

least, it's exactly what she should have done.� The only thing that

does surprise me is the baby she adopted.� I never figured she'd have

kids either.� She's too idealistic.� I can imagine her dying for a

cause she cares about, but not cleaning up throw up."� Tanya couldn't

help laughing at the description.� She was right on the money.� It had

always been Mary Stuart and Eleanor who cleaned up the suite.� Zoe was

always out demonstrating somewhere, and Tanya was either on the phone

with Bobby Joe, or rehearsing some music department concert.� The

domestic arts had never been her strong suit.

"I'd really like to see her," Tanya said cautiously, wondering just how

mad Mary Stuart was going to be, and hoping it wouldn't be very.� It

was going to break her heart if one of them refused to stay at the

ranch.� If either of them left, Tanya thought it was going to be Mary

Stuart and not Zoe.� It was Mary Stuart who had been so hurt by what

Zoe had told her.

But when Tanya mentioned wanting to see Zoe, Mary Stuart didn't

answer.� She just looked out the window, remembering what had

happened.

It had been a tragic time for all of them, just before graduation, a

sad way to end it.� And they'd never really gotten back together.� Mary

Stuart had never seen Zoe again, although she thought of her

sometimes.� And Tanya saw them both at different times.� None of them

had ever been back to a reunion.� Berkeley was just too big to make it

appeaing.

They drove on for the next few hours, and they both read.� Mary Stuart

had brought a stack of books with her, and Tanya was poring over

magazines, and relieved not to find herself in them.� And at nine

o'clock, they finally rolled into Winnemucca.� It was a brassy little

town filled with restaurants and casinos along the main drag, which was

actually just a piece of the highway.� And Tom pulled the bus into the

parking lot of the Red Lion Inn, where he had booked a room.� Tanya was

happier staying on the bus with Mary Stuart, but she wanted to go into

the restaurant for dinner, and play some slot machines.� It was really

more of a coffee shop than a restaurant, but there were fifty or so

slot machines, and some blackjack tables.

She put on her boots and the cowboy hat, and a pair of dark glasses.

She had brought along a short black wig, but it was hot, and it itched,

and she really didn't want to wear it, unless she had to.� And she and

Mary Stuart stood in the marble bathroom, washing their faces and

putting on lipstick.� Mary Stuart was looking relaxed and they both

laughed about how silly they felt, going gambling together in

Winnemucca.

"Listen, kid, this is serious.� One of us could hit a jackpot.� Just

don't tell Tony," Tanya said and winked.� She was still amazed at how

quickly he could leave her life, and how totally all feelings between

them had been canceled. �It was as if he had hardly known her.� And he

was making her so angry these days, that she didn't even miss him.� Now

and then, she had a flash of nostalgia for him, remembering something

they did, but in a minute, remembering the rest, it was over.� It had

been a mistake, a marriage that should have been an affair.� It hurt,

but not as much as she had feared when he left her, and that surprised

her.� She wondered if she was getting callous, or if it had never been

what she pretended.� It was very strange watching the whole

relationship recede into the mists as though it had never existed.� The

only thing she missed now were his children.

They got off the bus, with Tom watching them, and Tanya told him they'd

be fine.� He should go relax, gamble, sleep, do whatever he wanted.

And he went inside to check in and have dinner.� And with that, Tanya

and Mary Stuart hurried inside to change two fifty-dollar bills into

quarters, and they put the money in a bucket.� They had a great time

playing the quarter slot machines, making a dollar back here and there,

and staring at the people.� There were lots of women with blue hair

wearing large polyester tops in assorted floral patterns and pastel

colors.� Most of them had cigarettes hanging from their lips, and the

men were playing blackjack and drinking.� There were men playing the

slot machines too, but there were more women at the slot machines,

while the men preferred the poker and blackjack tables.� And as Tanya

clapped her hands when ten quarters came back to her, a man playing a

nearby machine grinned at her, and a minute later, he sidled over.� He

had long thin legs and no hips, and his jeans seemed to be sliding

south.� He had a two-day stubble on his face, and rough hands, and he

was wearing a cowboy hat not unlike Tanya's.

"How much did you win?"� he asked conversationally, and Mary Stuart

glanced nervously at Tanya.� She was not anxious to get picked up by a

drunk in Winnemucca.

"Couple of bucks," she said, ignoring him and frowning, pretending to

be intent on the two machines she was playing.

"People ever tell you, you look just like Tanya Thomas, except you're

taller and younger."

"Yeah, thanks," she said, never looking him in the eye.� Cher had told

her that once, that if you never make eye contact they don't recognize

you.� Sometimes it worked for her, and other times it didn't.� She was

hoping it would this time.� "People tell me that all the time.� I think

she's real short though."

"That's what I said.� You're taller.� She's good though.� You like her

singing?"

"She's all right," Tanya said, slipping into her old Texas drawl, and

Mary Stuart tried to keep from laughing.� "The stuff she sings is kind

of dumb though."� She was really pushing it, and she looked unconcerned

as she went on playing.

"Naaw, she's good," he argued with her, "I really like her."� Tanya

shrugged, and a few minutes later he went over to the blackjack table

and sat down, and Mary Stuart leaned over and whispered.

"You've got a lot of balls," she said with a broad grin, and Tanya

laughed at her and won a twenty-dollar jackpot.� So far, between the

two of them, they were just about breaking even.� They had agreed on

the bus that when they lost the hundred dollars, it was over.� They

would go on however long it lasted.

"That's the only way to do it," Tanya giggled, and a little while later

she heard some woman say, "Look, that's Tanya Thomas," but the man who

had talked to her said she just looked like her, and was a lot taller,

and the woman who had spotted her agreed immediately, and nothing

happened.� "And younger," Tanya added under her breath, as Mary Stuart

pushed her.� They were down about fifty dollars by then.� And at ten

o'clock they walked into the restaurant for a hamburger, and she saw

several people stare at them, but Tanya pretended not to notice.� The

waitress was particularly intent on watching them, but she wasn't quite

sure, and she didn't dare ask, and they actually got to eat a meal in

peace, which was rare for Tanya.� And then they went back to the slot

machines till nearly midnight.� In the end, they had forty dollars left

and split it between them.

"Wow!� We won forty dollars," Mary Stuart said happily, as they locked

the door of the bus behind them.

.

"No, dummy."� Tanya laughed at her.� "We lost sixty.� Remember?� We

started with a hundred."

"Oh," Mary Stuart said, looking momentarily crestfallen, and then they

both laughed like kids as they got undressed and got ready to go to bed

on the bus.� The two long couches in the green sitting room in the rear

turned into beds, and there was a good-size table between them.

"You know, you look just like Tanya Thomas!"� Mary Stuart drawled at

her as Tanya brushed her mane of blond hair in the bathroom.� It was

like being roommates again in college, and Tanya stuck her chin out.

She'd had a small implant put in years before, and a little liposuction

just beneath it, which gave her the neck of a very young woman.

"But taller and younger!"� they intoned together, laughing still

harder.

"And don't forget the younger," " Tanya reminded her.� "I paid a

fortune for having all this shit done."

"You're hopeless," Mary Stuart said, laughing as she put on her

nightgown.� She hadn't had this much fun in years, and for the first

time in months, she didn't miss Bill at all.� Suddenly, she had her own

life, and his rejection of her seemed sad but much less important.

"You don't look any different than you used to," she said, looking at

Tanya carefully in the mirror.� But neither did she, and she had done

nothing for it.

"That's the whole point," Tanya explained.� "What I'd like to know,

though, is how come you don't look any different, and you claim you've

done nothing.� I think you're lying," she teased, but she knew

better.

Mary Stuart just had great bones, a great face, great genes, and she

was a beautiful woman.� They both were.

They went to bed chatting like young girls, and they talked until two

in the morning with the lights off, and then finally they went to

sleep, and didn't wake up until nine the next morning.� She had told

Tom she'd call him in the hotel when they were ready.

Tanya made coffee in the kitchen, and sweet rolls in the microwave,

while Mary Stuart showered.� And then Tanya showered afterward, and

they were both dressed in blue jeans and cowboy boots by nine-thirty.

Neither of them had bothered to put on makeup.

"You know, I never do this," Tanya confessed, looking in the mirror

with amazement.� She never went out that way in L.A she couldn't afford

to, but here it didn't matter.� And it was a real luxury for her to

have the freedom to do that.� "I'm always afraid I'll run into a

photographer somewhere, or a reporter.� But here, what the hell," she

said, smiling.

She felt better just being there, and so did Mary Stuart.� They both

felt free of their heavy burdens.

And a few minutes later, they walked back into the casino.� Tanya had

called Tom and told him they were almost ready to get going.� They had

closed up their beds, and he was going to finish cleaning up for them,

and get gas, while the two women went to spend another twenty dollars

on the slot machines.� And this time they each doubled their money.

Their friend of the night before was gone, and in his place were a

dozen more like him, but absolutely no one paid any attention to

Tanya.

Mary Stuart thought it was amazing.

"Maybe you should go out without makeup more often," she said as they

boarded the bus.� Tom was waiting for them, and he put on another pot

of coffee.

"Thanks, Tom," Tanya said when she saw how nice the bus looked.� Mary

Stuart had to agree with her, she thought it was the only way to

travel.

She loved it, and she could see why Tom called it a land yacht.

They drove out of Winnemucca shortly after ten, and continued their

trek across Nevada all though the afternoon, and when they got to

Idaho, the countryside began to look greener.� It had been unbelievably

barren in the desert.� But Idaho was more inviting.� And they rolled on

doing just what they had before, reading and sleeping and talking.

Tanya checked in with her office and returned some phone calls.� But

for once, there was no crisis.� No one wanted anything from here and

there were no new traumas ill "How boring," she teased Jean on the

phone when she told her how quiet it was.� But Tanya was grateful for

the respite.� There was only a message from Zoe confirming her flight

time.

She was going to arrive at Jackson Hole shortly after they did.� And a

van from the hotel was picking her up at the airport.� Tanya figured

they'd arrive at the ranch around five-thirty, just in time to change

their clothes and have dinner.� But she said nothing to Mary Stuart

about the message from Zoe, although she was beginning to wonder if she

should warn her.� But Mary Stuart had been so relaxed on the trip,

Tanya hated to spoil it, so she didn't.� And for the last few hours of

the trip, they both slept, and when they awoke, they were dazzled by

the Tetons.� They were the most spectacular mountains either of them

had ever seen.� Mary Stuart just sat and stared at them, and without

even realizing it, Tanya starting humming and then singing.

It was a moment neither of them would forget for a lifetime.� And as

Tanya sang, Mary Stuart reached a hand out to her, and they sat holding

hands, as they drove through Jackson Hole, toward Moose, Wyoming.

You have to check our stock of AZT constantly," Zoe warned Sam as he

handed her bags to the skycap.� "You have no idea how quickly we run

out.

And I try to give away as many free samples as I can.� It's expensive,"

she said, handing the man a tip and her ticket so he could check her

baggage.� "And you have to kick the lab constantly.� If you let them,

they'll take forever.� Particularly with the kids, that can be a

disaster.� You want to know as fast as you can what's happening to

their white counts."� She was frantic as she got her ticket back and he

walked her to the gate.� She was frowning as she talked to Sam, and

tried to remember all the concerns she had wanted to share with him at

the last minute.

"This could come as a shock to you," he said gently, as they went

through the metal detector, and then past it.� "But I went to medical

school.� I'm board certified, and I have a license.� Honest.� I

swear."

He held up a hand, and she laughed nervously.

"I know, Sam.� I'm sorry.� I can't help it."

"I know you can't.� But you have to try and relax, or you're going to

have a heart attack right here, and never get to Wyoming.� And I hate

doing CPR in places like this.� It's so obvious, and it makes me look

like an E.R doc, instead of a humble locum tenens."� He was teasing her,

and she wanted to relax, but she just couldn't.� She felt so guilty,

about leaving all of them and Jade, that she was sorry she was going,

and if she could have backed out without feeling like a total jerk, she

would have.� But she had promised Tanya, and she knew she needed the

rest.� Otherwise, she would have stayed home and gone to work.� She had

just gone through the same performance at home with Inge, about

instructions for Jade, and when the baby had started crying, Sam almost

had to drag her down the stairs with her suitcase.

"I can see why you never go anywhere," he said as they sat down to wait

for the plane.� He thought she looked pale and he wondered if she was

sick again, or just stressed and nervous.� Probably a little of both.

He was glad she was taking a vacation and he loved doing locum tenens

in her practice.� He liked working for her too.� But he was willing to

sacrifice her company for the moment, she was obviously in dire need of

some time off.

They had never talked about her personal life again.� Ever since their

first night out, Zoe had kept the conversation entirely to business.

But he still hadn't given up.� He had promised to cook dinner for her

and Jade when she got back from Wyoming, and she had at least

accepted.

She saw it as an opportunity for continued friendship.� Sam didn't.

"You won't forget to check on Quinn Morrison, will you?� I promised him

you'd come by every afternoon after the office."� He was one of her

favorite patients, a sweet man in his seventies, who had contracted

AIDS after prostate surgery, and he was doing poorly.

"I swear," Sam promised.� She had also left him ten thousand

instructions at the office.� And as he looked at her with a gentle

smile, he put an arm around her shoulders.� "I'm also going to check up

on your daughter, and make sure your all pair isn't beating her, or

having sex in your bedroom while Jade watches Big Bird."

"Oh, God, don't say that," Zoe groaned at the prospect.� She hadn't

even thought of Inge doing a thing like that, and he laughed at her

reaction.

"I'm going to put you on Prozac if you don't stop it.� Or at least

Valium."

"What a nice idea," she said.� Actually, she had just started AZT that

week, as a precaution.� She was a great believer in doing that

prophylactically, even before symptoms, and recommended it to all her

patients.� She had even told Sam that, in case he saw any new

patients.

"I really shouldn't have gone on this trip," she said, torturing

herself further, and he suggested they go and get a cup of coffee.

"I don't know another human being who deserves it more," he said

seriously, as he ordered two cappuccinos.� "I'm just sorry you're not

going for two weeks instead of one."� But they both knew she could

never have done it.

"Maybe next year."

"I'm impressed," he teased.� "You actually think you might do this

again?� I figured this was a once-in-a-lifetime deal."� It might be,

but not for the reasons he was thinking, and she didn't say that.

"We'll see."� She looked coy then over her coffee.� "Depends how much I

like it."

"What's not to like?"� He had been to Yellowstone Park once, and

absolutely loved it.

"Depends how cute the cowboys are."� She was teasing him, and he didn't

think he liked it, but he was nonetheless willing to take it from

her.

"Oh, great.� You tell me you're becoming a nun, and now you're going to

Wyoming to chase cowboys.� Terrific.� See if I cover for you again.

Maybe I'll give all your patients placebos."

"Don't you dare!" she laughed.

"I wear cowboy boots too, you know.� And I can buy one of those dumb

hats, if that's what gets to you.� Funny though, I can't see Dick

Franklin playing cowboy," he mused, and she laughed at him.� He loved

to give her a hard time about the illustrious Dr. Franklin.� Sam

really didn't like him.� He thought he was a pompous, pretentious

asshole.� They had disagreed about surgical treatment for breast cancer

at a medical meeting in I..A and Franklin had treated Sam like a

novice.� And although he wasn't a surgeon himself, he certainly had

valid opinions.� But Dick Franklin didn't think so.

"I'll bring you back a cowboy hat," Zoe promised him, and he grinned.

She still hadn't convinced him about the validity of her celibacy, and

he had every intention of continuing to annoy her about it.

"Just don't bring home a cowboy."

"I'll call you," she said as the plane pulled in.� She was flying to

Salt Lake City, and then transferring to a smaller plane to Jackson

Hole, Wyoming. �She had timed it perfectly to arrive at almost the same

time as Tanya.

, "Say hello to your friend for me.� I'd love to meet her sometime.� "

"I'll tell her to call you," she teased.� Everyone in the world wanted

to meet Tanya.� She was everyone's dream girl.� And then suddenly he

looked serious as she picked up her bag and got ready to board the

aircraft.� "Take care of yourself.� You need a break, Miss Z. Use this

time for yourself.� You've earned it."� She nodded, touched by the way

he looked at her, but unable to respond to him, and then she saw him

narrow his eyes with an unspoken question.� "I just thought of

something.� Do you have a medical bag with you?"� he asked, looking

worried.

"Yeah.� Why?� I put one in my suitcase, but I checked it.� Do you need

it?"� She looked around, wondering if he had seen something she

hadn't.

She was usually careful about volunteering her assistance in public,

but if she was needed urgently, she always did it.� "Is someone

hurt?"

"Yeah.� You.� After I hit you over the head with my shoe.

You're on vacation, you dope.� I thought you'd do something like

that.

I want you to leave it in your suitcase."

"Well, I wasn't planning to run around the ranch with it.� I just

thought I should have it in case something happened."� And then she

looked at him pointedly and asked him a question.� "Are you telling me

you don't take one when you go somewhere?� I'd feel lost without it."

She knew damn well he would too.� They all did.

"That's different.� I do relief work."� He looked mildly embarrassed,

and she laughed at him, and then he put an arm around her and pulled

her closer, but he knew she would never have let him kiss her.� "Just

be good to yourself.� Forget all of us, if you can.� If I really need

you, I'll call you."

"Promise you'll do that?"� She looked genuinely concerned, and he

nodded.� It was why she liked leaving her practice in his hands,

because he listened, he cared, and he did exactly what she wanted.� He

didn't try to change the world and turn everything upside down while he

was on duty.� And he was truly a great doctor, and she knew that.� She

had always thought he was foolish being satisfied with doing locum

tenens.

"I promise you I'll call if anything comes up," he reassured her

again.

"Promise me you'll get some rest and come back with pink cheeks and a

little fatter, even if you do spend all your time chasing cowboys.� Get

a little sunshine too, and lots of sleep."

"Yes, doctor."� She smiled at him, and she thanked him again for

keeping an eye on her practice, and a moment later she walked slowly

down the gangway toward the plane.� And he waved for as long as he

could see her.

He stood watching the plane until it pulled away, and then he walked

slowly out of the airport.� And almost before he'd reached the door,

his beeper went off, and he went to a phone to answer a call from one

of her patients.� He was off and running.� And she was in the air by

then, on her way to Wyoming.

The flight to Salt Lake took just over two hours, and she had a

two-hour wait then for the next plane, and they had already had a time

change.� She thought about calling Jade, but she decided it might upset

her to hear her voice so soon and not understand where she was.� She

decided to wait till she got to the ranch instead, and she sat in the

airport and drank coffee and read the paper and sat lost in her own

thoughts.� She so rarely had time to do that.� And she mused over the

fact that she had heard from Dick Franklin the day before.� Much to her

surplise, he called her.� He had been stunned, and very moved when he

got her note.� He didn't ask to see her again, but he said that if she

needed anything, she should call.� He appreciated her honesty, though

he wasn't worried, and he assured her that her secret was safe with

him.� He asked her how it had happened, and she told him, and he said

he wasn't surprised.� And she had the feeling, when they hung up, that

she wouldn't hear from him again.� But in her mind, it was just as

well.� She had no room for him or any man in her life now.

It was a luxury just sitting there on the airplane, without phones,

without beepers, without patients, without anyone needing or wanting

her, without having to figure out how she could help them.� As much as

she liked her work, she knew she would really enjoy the vacation.� And

she really wanted to shore up her energy and her strength.� She knew

she would need them.� She had every intention of continuing her

practice till the bitter end.� She had already made that decision.� She

was going to give her patients everything she had to give, until there

was nothing left to give them.� And Jade too.� But she had to figure out

what to do about Jade.� She had no family to leave her with, and no

friends she thought were responsible enough to take good care of her,

or else they were people she liked but weren't good with children.

She'd been thinking of talking to Tanya, and she had no idea what she'd

think of it.� But it was a possibility at least.� Zoe knew that

eventually she had to do something.

The flight to Jackson Hole left on time, and Zoe landed on schedule at

exactly five-thirty.� She had no idea where Tanya was by then, she knew

she was arriving by bus that afternoon.� She had planned to reach her

at the ranch, and the hotel was sending a van for her.� Her bags were

among the first ones off, the driver was waiting for her, and

everything went smoothly.

The young man who drove the van was wearing jeans, boots, and a cowboy

hat, and he looked like everyone else in Wyoming.� He was long, lanky,

and lean, had short blond hair, he said his name was Tim, and he was

from Mississippi.� He was attending the University of Wyoming in

Laramie, and working at the ranch for the summer.� He said he loved it

because of the horses.� And as he drove her there, he told her about

it.� But Zoe found she could barely listen to him, she was mesmerized

by the mountains.� They were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen,

and the late afternoon sun shimmered on them in blues and pinks.� There

was snow at the very top, and they looked like the Swiss Alps to her.

She had never seen anything like it.

"They're spectacular, aren't they, ma'am?� They kinda take your breath

away, don't they?"� She agreed with him entirely, and let him rattle on

for the half hour it took them to get there.� He said he had an uncle

who was a doctor too, he was an orthopedist and he'd set Tim's arm

once.� Did it real good too, because when he rode in the rodeo last

year, the arm he'd broken before hadn't bothered him at all, but he'd

broken the other one, and his leg too.� But he was riding again this

year.� The story definitely had local color.

"Is there a rodeo here?"� she asked with interest.

"Yes, ma'am.� Wednesdays and Saturdays.� Bull riding, broncos, the

young kids ride steers, calf roDinz.� You been to the rodeo before?"

"Not yet," she smiled, but she was sure Tanya would want to see it.

She used to talk about the rodeos in Texas.� "My friend is from

Texas."

"I know."� He looked a little embarrassed as soon as she said it.� "I

know who she is, but we're not supposed to talk about it at the

ranch.

Mrs. Collins gets real mad if anyone makes celebrities uncomfortable,

and we get them from time to time, you know.

We've had some real big ones at the ranch since I've been there."� He

looked at her staunchly then, and she imagined that that was why Tanya

had chosen this one.� "We don't give anyone no information."

"I know she'll appreciate it," Zoe said kindly.

"They're supposed to be arriving by bus any minute."� She wasn't sure

who he meant by "they," except maybe her bus driver, but Zoe didn't

bother to ask him, and five minutes later they pulled off the road,

through some gates, and down a long winding road Tim called "the

driveway," but it seemed to go on forever.� It was another full ten

minutes before they reached some foothills, and she saw half a dozen

buildings cleverly nestled into the base of them, a big barn, and

several huge corrals filled with horses.� There were lovely trees

everywhere, and the buildings were impeccably maintained, and looming

high above them, across the valley, were the ever present Tetons.

Tim took her to check in, and she was told at the desk that Miss Thomas

hadn't arrived yet, but she was instantly given a warm welcome.� The

ranch house itself looked old and was very beautiful.� There were

antelope heads, and a buffalo on the wall, beautiful skins on the

floor, and a spectacular picture window that showed a huge span of

mountains.

And there was an enormous fireplace that a tall man could have stood up

in.� It looked like a cozy place to spend a long winter's night, and

there were a few guests chatting quietly in the corner.� The woman at

the desk explained to her that at that hour most of them were in their

cabins, changing for dinner.� Dinner was at seven.

There was a handful of informational sheets and a brochure for her, and

then Tim drove her to the cabin.� It was a humble euphemism for what

would have been a handsome home for a family of five in the suburbs of

any city.� There was a big, cozy living room, with a fireplace and a

potbellied stove, a small kitchen area, and couches covered in handsome

textured fabrics.

The feeling in the room was Southwestern, and somewhat Navajo, but it

looked like a spread in Architectural Digest, where it had recently

been featured.� And there were three huge bedrooms, each one with a

splendid view, and there were trees all around them.

It was really beautiful, and Zoe felt totally spoiled as she set down

her tote bag, and Tim put down her suitcase.� He asked her which

bedroom she preferred, and she wanted to wait for Tanya to make the

selection.

There was one slightly larger than the other two, but they were all

large and comfortable with huge king-size beds, and rough-hewn

furniture, and a fireplace in each bedroom.� For a minute she wanted to

jump up and down on the beds and scream, like a little kid, and she was

beaming when Tim left her.� For a few minutes she wandered from room to

room, and she helped herself to a nectarine from a large bowl of fruit

on the coffee table.� There was a big tin of freshly baked cookies too,

and a box of chocolates.� They had also asked Tanya's secretary for all

her preferences, and the room was full of them.� There were flowers

everywhere, soda and especially root beer, Tanya's favorite, in the

fridge, there were the cookies she preferred, the correct brand of

crackers and yogurt she ate for breakfast, and there was an abundance

of towels and her favorite soap in all three bathrooms.

"Wow!"� Zoe said out loud as she looked around, and then she sat down

on the couch and waited.� She watched the news on television, helped

herself to a Diet Coke, and ten minutes later she could hear the bus

lumbering slowly up the driveway.� It was perfect timing.� And Zoe

stood in the doorway, like the lady of the house, waiting to greet her,

as Tanya walked off the bus, and ran toward her as soon as she saw

her.

The two were locked in a fast embrace, as suddenly Zoe saw over her

shoulder that someone else was getting off the bus too.� And she looked

instantly startled, but not nearly as much so as Mary Stuart.� Mary

Stuart stood rooted to the spot, and she didn't know whether to get

back on the bus, or march down the driveway.� Instead she just stood

there staring at Tanya.� And when the other two took a step back, Mary

Stuart was staring at them in fury.

"I can't believe you did this," she said to both of them, but even she

would have had to admit that Zoe looked genuinely amazed to see her.

It was obvious that she hadn't known either.

"It's not her fault," Tanya said rapidly, as Tom began to take their

bags off.� "It's mine.� Let me explain what happened."

"Don't bother," Mary Stuart said sharply.� "I'm leaving."� Tom looked

surprised and glanced at Tanya with a silent question.� But she was too

busy dealing with her friend to answer.

"That's not fair, Mary Stuart.� Give it a chance, at least.� We haven't

been together in so long .� . . I just thought .� .."

"Well, you shouldn't have.� After the year I've just had, I don't

understand how you could do this.� It was a rotten thing to do, and you

know it."� She was livid and there were tears in Tanya's eyes as she

listened, realizing it had been selfish on her part.� She had just

wanted both of them to be with her.� But she'd been worried about it

since she'd done it.� It had been over twenty-two years, that was a

long time for their old wounds to fester.

"I'm sorry, Mary Stuart," Zoe said quietly.� "I shouldn't have come

anyway.� I have a lot to do in San Francisco, and a small child at

home.

It makes more sense for me to leave.� I shouldn't have come in the

first place.� I'll catch a flight out after dinner."� She spoke very

calmly and very gently, but in the past two decades she had spent a lot

of time dealing with very sick, very unhappy, often agitated, even

demented people, and she was able to speak sensibly even when in the

throes of her own emotions.

"You don't have to do that," Mary Stuart said, trying to regain her

composure, and suddenly feeling she'd been rude, but she had been so

stunned to see her, and the moment had I been so awkward.� "I'll be

perfectly happy to fly back to New York in the morning."� But she had

to admit, it was a disappointment.

"You're both a couple of jerks," Tanya said, near tears.� "I can't

believe you can keep this bullshit going for more than twenty years.

We're almost forty-five years old, for chrissake.� Don't you have

anything else to think about than to be pissed off at what happened

when we were kids?� Christ, I deal with so much shit every day, I can't

even remember last week, let alone over twenty-one years ago.� Give me

a break, guys."� She stood watching them, and Mary Stuart and Zoe

looked at each other, as Tom took their bags into the cabin.� He was

planning to stay at a hotel "Jackson Hole, and be on call in case

Tanya wanted to go on any excursions.� But he wondered now about what

they were doing.

"Can we at least go inside to discuss this?"� Tanya asked, looking hurt

and angry, and the three women moved inside, as Tom put the groceries

in the kitchen, and then left them.

The three women were standing awkwardly in the living room, and Tanya

was wondering what to do now.� "Will you at least sit down?� You're

both making me very nervous," she said, pacing the room, as Zoe looked

at her.� Unlike the other two, who were the same age, Zoe was almost a

full year older, but they all looked terrific.� "Look," Tanya said as

they sat down, "I probably shouldn't have done it, I apologize.� It was

a stupid, sophomoric thing to do, but I thought I could get the three

of us back together.� I've missed you.� I don't have any other friends

like you.

Nobody else in this whole world cares about me, absolutely no one.� I

don't have a husband, I don't have kids, I don't even have stepkids

anymore. �All I have is you .� . . and what I wanted was what we used

to have .� . . that's all .� . . maybe it was crazy .� . . but I wish

you would at least try it."

"We both love you," Mary Stuart said calmly, trying to regain her

composure.� "Or at least I do, and I'm sure Zoe does too, or she

wouldn't be here.� We didn't just come here for the view and the

cowboys," Zoe smiled and nodded as she listened, "but we don't love

each other, Tan.� That's the problem.� I think it would be a very hard

two weeks if we all stayed here."� Zoe nodded again, and Tanya looked

even more disappointed.� She had expected some kind of reaction when

they arrived, but she hadn't expected both of them to insist on

leaving.� She realized now that her idea had been really stupid.� She

would have been better off extending the invitation to either Mary

Stuart or Zoe, and not undertaking such an ambitious reunion.

"What about just for tonight?� We've been driving all day, and we're

both tuckered out."� She spoke of herself and Mary Stuart, and turned

to Zoe.� "You've had two flights just to get here, and you look tired

.

. .

you look good," she corrected herself, "but you look bushed.� We all

are.

After all, we're not kids anymore," she teased, but neither of them

smiled.� They were both thinking about what to do now.� "Why can't we

just stay here for tonight, and then it's up to you what you want to

do.� I won't make a fuss, and if you're both pissed and tell me to get

lost, and leave, it's my own fault.� But then I'm leaving too.� I'm not

going to stay here alone for two weeks.� It would be too depressing."

It was a beautiful place, and a real shame to waste the vacation.

Zoe was the first to speak up, and she looked at both women when she

did it.� "I'll stay tonight.� You're right.� It's a long trip back, and

I'm not even sure there is a flight out tonight.� This is not exactly

Kennedy Airport."� She smiled at Tanya, and looked hesitantly at Mary

Stuart.

"Would that suit you, Stu?"� She slipped easily into their old

nicknames.

"I'm all right with that," Mary Stuart said politely.� "I'll go back to

New York in the morning."

"No, you're not," Tanya said bluntly, "you promised you'd spend a week

with me in L.A."� She was starting to look annoyed.� She thought Mary

Stuart was being unreasonable, but she knew just how deep the old

wounds went.

"I'll fly back tomorrow," Zoe said matter-of-factly, and Tanya decided

to quit while they were ahead.� They were spending the night, it was a

start, and maybe a miracle would happen before morning.

"What bedrooms do you all want?"� Tanya asked, taking off her hat, and

tossing it on a hat rack.� The rooms had every possible thing they

could have wanted.� Coatracks, boot jacks, gloves in case the mornings

were chilly.� There were rain ponchos in the closet in case there was a

storm.

Everything was comfortable and luxurious and well thought out.� Even

Tanya had never seen any place like it.� "I love this place," she said

with a cautious smile, and this time the other two joined her.� In

spite of their amazement at being together again, they all had to agree

that the ranch was fabulous, and their cabin even better.

"Do they just do this for you, Tan?"� Zoe asked, "or does everyone get

this kind of treatment?"� She doubted everyone did, she had never seen

so many thoughtful little touches, including every magazine they could

possibly have wanted.

"Supposedly, every cabin is like this," she said, helping herself to a

root beer.� "They called my secretary the week before we left to ask

what I like to eat and drink and read, what kind of soap I like, how

many pillows and towels, what videos, if I needed a fax in the room, or

additional phone lines.� I told them one phone was fine, but I had them

put in a fax, and three VCR's, and I guessed at the foods and drinks

you like.� If there's anything you want, just tell them."

"This place is amazing," Mary Stuart concurred as she went to look at

all the bedrooms, and on her way back she almost ran into Zoe.

"How've you been, Stu?"� Zoe asked solicitously, and the look in her

eyes startled Mary Stuart.� There was a lot of sorrow and pain there.

"I've been fine," Mary Stuart said softly, wanting to ask her about her

own life for the past twenty years.� But she knew about the clinic from

Tanya.

"I'm sorry about your son," Zoe said, and instinctively touched her

arm.� "Tanya told me .� . . it's so unfair .� . . I deal with it all

the time, and it's never right, but especially at his age.� I'm really

sorry."

"Thanks, Zoe," she said, her eyes filled with tears as she turned away

from her.� She didn't want Zoe to see it, but Zoe had sensed it, and

she moved away so as not to offend her.

"Have we figured out what bedrooms yet?"� Tanya came back into the room

and she saw that Mary Stuart had been crying, and she wondered if

they'd been fighting, but neither of them looked angry, and then she

suspected it was about Todd, and when she raised an eyebrow Zoe

nodded.

In the end, they all selected rooms.� The slightly larger one had a

sunken bathtub and "Jacuzzi, and Zoe and Mary Stuart both insisted that

Tanya have it, although she would have given it up to either one of

them.� And when she agreed to use it, she told them to use the Jacuzzi

anytime, but they both pointed out they'd be leaving in the morning.

And Tanya almost told them she thought they were both disgustingly

stubborn, but she didn't say it.� She just went to her own room to

change for dinner, and the others did the same a moment later.

Zoe called home from her room, and everything was fine.� Jade was

eating dinner when she called, and Inge said everything was going

smoothly and she put Jade on the phone, and she didn't even cry when she

heard her mother.� She thought of paging Sam, just to see how things

were, but she decided not to.� He would be paged by plenty of her

patients, so she didn L And shortly before seven o'clock they all met

in the living room.� Tanya was wearing skin-tight black suede pants,

and a beaded cowboy shirt, with her blond hair loosely tied in a black

ribbon behind her.� And she was wearing tall, black suede cowboy boots

that she had bought for the occasion.� Zoe was wearing jeans, a soft,

pale blue sweater and hiking boots, and Mary Stuart was wearing gray

slacks, a beige sweater, and Chanel loafers.� They were all as they had

always been, surprisingly compatible, and yet totally different.

There was a kind of mesh between them that, even now, with the rift

between two of them, was still more powerful than they were.� And Tanya

knew that if they'd been honest with each other, they would have

admitted that they felt it.� She did, she felt drawn to both of them,

as though there was an invisible cord around them pulling them

closer.

When she came back into the living room, Mary Stuart was asking Zoe

about her clinic, and she was talking animatedly about it, while Mary

Stuart listened in fascination.

"What an enormous undertaking," Mary Stuart said admiringly, but as

they left for the dining room, they both fell silent, as though they

had each remembered they weren't supposed to be speaking to each

other.� But once they were at the dinner table, the conversation got

under way again.� Tanya talked at length about her next concert tour,

and the movie she was about to close a deal on, and they were both

excited for her.� It was obvious that they were both genuinely fond of

her and wanted to protect her.� They had been put at a table in the

corner of the room, and although they all saw heads turn, no one came

to ask for autographs, or to speak to them, except eventually the head

of the ranch, Charlotte Collins, who stopped at the table to make them

feel welcome.

She was a remarkable woman with a wide smile and piercing blue eyes,

who seemed to see all, and kept her hand in every pie, and in every

room, and on every person.� She knew exactly what every one of her

employees was doing at the time, and what each guest needed at that

precise moment.� And somehow, she managed to coordinate the two to the

nth degree.� Tanya was enormously impressed by the entire operation, as

were the others, and they said so.

"Well, we hope you'll enjoy your stay with us.� It's very important to

us," she said, and looked as though she meant it.� And neither Zoe nor

Mary Stuart had the courage to ask her about planes or tell her they

were leaving in the morning.

"I'll ask at the desk after breakfast," Mary Stuart said, after

Charlotte Collins moved on.� There would be plenty of time then, and

she could always fly to L.A. and spend a night at the Beverly

Wilshire.

Or to Denver.� And Zoe's route was fairly simple.� She would just go

home the same way she had come there.

"I don't want to talk about this now," Tanya said sternly.� "I want

both of you to think about what you're doing.� Do you really have so

many friends that you can afford to lose someone you've known for half

your life?"� But what had blown them apart had been pretty brutal and

Tanya knew it.� She just didn't want it to go on forever.� After

twenty-one years, they had a right to end it.� They all needed each

other too badly to let go and walk away forever.

They talked about other things alter that, Alyssa for a while, and

Jade, but not Todd.� And neither Mary Stuart nor Tanya talked about

their husbands.� They talked about trips and music and friends, books

they cared about and Zoe's clinic, and then they started reminiscing

about college.� The people they had hated most, the funny ones, the

ones they'd heard about in recent years, the dorks, the nerds, the

drips, the tarts, and the heroes.� A number of people they knew in

school in the early years had died in Vietnam just before the peace was

signed.� It had been particularly cruel to lose friends in the final

hours, but it had happened.� And others had died since then.� Several

members of their class had died of cancer, and Zoe seemed to know

that.

She knew it through the medical community or through friends, or maybe

because she lived in San Francisco, and a lot of their classmates had

never left there.� It had been a short, easy jump from Berkeley to the

city.� And through it all none of them ever mentioned Ellie.� They were

still talking about other friends as they walked back to the cabin, and

it was only when they were back in their living room that Tanya said

it.� She knew Ellie was on all their minds, and it would be easier if

someone just said it.� So she did.

"You know, it's amazing, after all these years, I still miss her."

There was a long pause, and then Mary Stuart nodded.

"So do I," she admitted in a soft voice.� In some ways Ellie had been

the heart and soul of the group.� She had always been the gentlest of

them all, and yet she had often been the life of the party.

She was a funny, zany girl, who would do almost anything for a laugh,

including walking into a party with nothing but white paint on.� She

had done that once, and now and then she wore a lamp shade to chapel.

She did crazy, silly things, and she always made them laugh, and then

she made them cry.� It had broken everyone's heart when she died,

particularly Mary Stuart's.� They had been best friends and

roommates.

And they were all sitting there thinking about her, when Zoe broke the

silence.

"I wish I'd known then what I know now," she said gently to Mary

Stuart, as Tanya watched them.� "I had no right to say the things I did

to you.� I can't believe how young and stupid I was.� I've often

thought about it.� I almost wrote you a letter once, when my first

patient committed suicide.� It was like God's vengeance for my having

been so cruel and so outrageous to you.� It was as if he were trying to

teach me everything I hadn't learned with Ellie, that it was no one's

fault, that we couldn't have stopped her if we tried, oh, we might have

for a while.

But not in the end, not if that was really what she wanted.� I was so

damn ignorant when I was young, I kept thinking that one of us should

have seen it, that you should have because you were closest to her.� I

couldn't understand why you didn't know that she'd been taking pills

and drinking.� She must have been doing it for months, I think, and I

guess she'd gotten away with it.� But she really didn't want to.� Ellie

got exactly what she wanted."� But as Mary Stuart listened to Zoe's

words, she started crying.� It was like listening to her talk about

Todd, but Zoe didn't know that.� And Tanya put a gentle arm around

her.

"I should have written you the letter, Stu," Zoe said with tears in her

own eyes.

"I never forgave myself for what I said to you, I guess you didn't

either.� I don't blame you," she said sadly.� It had blown them all

apart.

Zoe had been vicious with her, she had raged at her for days, and even

at the funeral, she had refused to sit beside her.� She had blamed Mary

Stuart completely for not being able to stop her, and Mary Stuart had

been overwhelmed by the accusations, and she had believed her.� It had

taken years to overcome her sense of having failed to save her friend's

life.� It was almost as though she had killed her.� And then it had all

come back to her with Todd.� It was as though the horror had never

ended.� Only this time it was worse, and now it was Bill blaming her,

and not Zoe.� "I'm so sorry," Zoe said as she walked across the room

and sat beside her.� "I've wanted to say that to you all night.� Even

if we both leave tomorrow morning, especially if we do, I can't live

with myself unless I tell you how wrong I was, and how stupid.� You

were right to hate me for all these years and I'm really sorry."� She

was crying when she said it.� It was important to her now to confess

her sins and make peace with the people she had injured.� And in Zoe's

life, there weren't many.

"Thank you for saying that," Mary Stuart choked on a sob as she hugged

her, "but I always thought you were right.� How could I not know what

she was doing?� How could I have been so blind?"� They were the same

questions she had asked herself about her son's death.� Todd's death

had, in some ways, been very similar to Ellie's.� It was like a

recurring nightmare.

Only there was no waking.� It seemed to go on forever.

"She was very sneaky, and she wanted to die," Zoe said simply. �Her

practice had taught her a great deal in the past two decades.� "You

couldn't have stopped her."

"I wish I believed that," Mary Stuart said sadly, confused suddenly if

they were talking about her son, or their roommate.

"I know," Zoe persisted, as firm in this position as she had once been

in the other.� "She didn't want you to know what she was doing.� If she

had, you could have stopped her, but you couldn t. " "I wish I had,"

Mary Stuart said, staring at her hands folded in her lap, as the other

two watched her.� And Tanya was worried.� "I wish I had known, about

both of them."� She raised her eyes to her friends', and they could

both see the agony she held here.

"Both of whom?"� Zoe was confused now, and Mary Stuart didn't answer,

but the others just waited.� "Mary Stuart?"� She looked at her, and

then she understood as Mary Stuart looked at her, and she wished she

could have died for her, for both of them.� She could only begin to

imagine the agony she'd been through.� Even more so after the distant

memory of Ellie.� It must have been like reliving it all again, but it

had been so much worse for her.� It made Zoe sob to realize what had

happened.� "Oh my God," she said, as she clutched her old friend and

they both cried.� "Oh, God .� . . Stu .� . . I'm so sorry .."

"It was so awful," Mary Stuart cried, "it was so terrible .� . . and

Bill said all the same things you did, and more."� She went on sobbing

as though her heart would break.� But Mary Stuart knew it couldn't, it

had broken long before that.� "And Bill still blames me," she

explained.� "He hates me.� He's in London now, without me, because he

can't bear the sight of me, and I don't blame him.� He thinks I killed

our son, or let him die, at the very least .� . . just as you thought

about Ellie."

"I was a fool," Zoe said, still holding Mary Stuart in her arms, but it

was small comfort in the face of what had happened.

"I was twenty-two years old and an inexperienced moron.� Bill should

know better."

"He's convinced I could have stopped him."

"Then someone needs to tell him the truth about suicides.� Stu, if he

really wanted to, wild horses couldn't have stopped him.� If he really

wanted to, he would never have given you any .� , , warning.

"He didn't," she said sadly, blowing her nose in the tissue Tanya

handed her, as Zoe sat back and put an arm around Mary Stuart's

shoulders.

"You can't blame yourself.� You have to try and accept what happened.

As awful as it is, you can't change it, you can't stop it.� You

couldn't have stopped it then.� All you can do now is go on, or you'll

destroy yourself and everything around you."

"Actually, we've done a fairly good job of that."� She blew her nose

again and smiled at both her friends through the tears she was still

crying.� "There's nothing left of our marriage.� Absolutely nothing."

"Well, not if he blames you.� Somebody needs to talk to him.� "

"Probably my lawyer," Mary Stuart said, laughing grimly, and the other

two smiled at her. �She sounded a little more herself, and Tanya held

one hand, and Zoe the other.� "I've kind of decided to give it up.� I'm

going to tell him when he comes back from London."

"What's he doing there?"� Zoe was curious.� She didn't think they lived

there.

"He has a big case there for the next two or three months, but he

wouldn't let me come with him."

Zoe raised an eyebrow, and looked like her old cynical self as the

other two watched her.� She had mellowed a lot over the last twenty

years, but there was still quite a lot of spice there.� "Is he involved

with someone else?"

"Actually, I don't think so.� We haven't made love in a year, not since

the night before Todd died.� He's never touched me since.� It's like

the ultimate silent punishment.� I think I so revolt him he can't touch

me.

But anyway, I really don't think there is someone else.� That might be

easier to understand than what's happened."

"Not really," Zoe looked clinical more than sympathetic.

"Some people just freeze up after traumas like that.� It's pretty

typical.� I've heard it before.� It's not exactly therapeutic, however,

for a marriage."

"Not really."� Mary Stuart smiled briefly.� "Anyway, I think I've

finally figured out what I need for myself.� He's never going to

forgive me anyway, and I might as well get it over with.� Living with

him is like living with my guilt every day, and I just can't do it."

"You shouldn't," Zoe said quietly.� "He either has to deal with it

honestly, or you need to get out.� I think you're doing the right

thing," she said matteref-factly.� "What about your daughter?� " Mary

Stuart sighed as she answered.� "I think she'll probably blame me for

the divorce.� I don't think she understands how rotten her father has

been to me.� She just thinks he's busy.� I did too, at first.

But he made pretty clear what he was feeling.� I can't stay there

anymore, just for Alyssa, or even for him.� I'm not even a wife to him

now.� We don't speak, we don't go anywhere, he doesn't want to be with

me.� And just seeing the way he looks at me is like being beaten."

"Then get out," Zoe said firmly.� They hadn't seen each other for

twenty years, and it was suddenly as though they had turned the clock

back, to the beginning.

"You'll be better off without him if he's making you miserable," Tanya

said gently.� "I survived it.� You will too.� We all do."

"We've been married for twenty-two years.� It's incredible to watch it

all go out the window."

"It sounds like it already did a while ago," Zoe said honestly, and

Tanya nodded, and Mary Stuart couldn't disagree with them.

Even now that he was gone, he hardly ever called her.� And when they

spoke, he was in a hurry to get off the phone because it was so

awkward.

Lately, she had taken to sending him faxes, as she had that night when

they arrived, just confirming her location.� And even then, he didn't

answer.

"You're still young," Tanya said encouragingly, "you could meet someone

else, and have a whole new life with them, with someone who wants to be

with you."� Mary Stuart nodded, wishing she believed them.

She couldn't imagine anyone ever wanting to be with her again, after

the way Bill viewed her.

"It sounds like it's time to move on," Zoe confirmed, and Mary Stuart

didn't disagree with them.� She just hated the fact that it had come to

this after all these years.� She dreaded telling him, and then packing

up her things, and telling Alyssa they were getting divorced.� It was

all so difficult, and she shuddered at the prospect of dating.� She

almost couldn't bear it.� But it was the same boat Tanya was in, except

she was Tanya Thomas, and Mary Stuart said that.� "Are you kidding?� I

haven't had a date since Tony left.

Everyone is scared to death of me.� No one's going to ask me out,

except some damn hairdresser who wants to say they were out with me.

Like Everest.� No one wants to live there, but the whole world wants to

say they climbed it."� All three of them laughed at that, and Mary

Stuart wasn't sure if she felt better or worse.� Just talking about her

plans made it all seem so final.� And in a way it seemed a betrayal of

Bill, who didn't even know what she was thinking.� But it was real, and

it was what she was feeling, and what she thought she'd do at the end

of the summer.� At least she had time to think about it now while he

was in England.

They sat and talked for a long time.� Nothing was resolved, but their

friendship was restored, and none of them said anything more about

leaving in the morning.� Zoe's apology had meant a great deal to Mary

Stuart.� And Zoe was deeply moved to realize her words had hurt her

friend for all these years, worse still since her son had been a

suicide, not unlike Ellie.� Life was so cruel sometimes. �It always

boggled her, but it was also so kind at others.� And in the morning,

when the phone rang at six o'clock, it was Zoe who answered.� She was

used to coming awake instantly for the phone at night, and the other

two were still sleeping.

"Hello?"

"Zoe?"� It was Sam, and she instantly thought of Jade and felt a wave

of panic .� . . appendicitis .� . . crib death .� . . an earthquake .

. .

"Is Jade all right?"� They were the first words out of her mouth.� It

was as though Jade had been born to her, she loved her as much as any

natural mother and had all the same instincts

"She's fine.� I'm sorry if I scared you.� But I wanted to call you.� I

thought you'd want to know."� He hated calling her with bad news, but

he was sure she'd never forgive him if he didn't.� "Quinn Morrison died

an hour ago.� He went peacefully, and his family was with him.� I'm

sorry you weren't here with him, but I did everything I could.

His heartjust gave out finally."� In a way, it had been a mercy, and

she knew it.� But she was sad anyway, and she cried when he told her.

She cried for most of them, the old, the young, and especially the

children.

At least Quinn Morrison had been seventy-four years old, he'd had a

full life, and AIDS had only ruined the last year of it, not an entire

lifetime, and it hadn't cut it much shorter than most people his age

with other diseases.� But she was sad anyway, she felt a sense of loss,

and of having been defeated.� It was a familiar feeling to her, she

lost so many patients to the dread killer.� "Are you all right?"� Sam

sounded worried.

"I'm fine.� I just feel badly not to have been there."

"I knew you would.� That's why I called.� He said he was glad you went

to Wyoming."� She smiled at that.� It sounded just like him.� He'd

spent the whole year telling her she should get married and have

children.

"Is everyone else all right?"

"Peter Williams had a rough night.� I spent an hour at his house before

I went to Quinn's.� He's got pneumonia again.� I'm going to admit him

in the morning."� He was thirty-one years old, and getting close to the

end too.� But in his case, it was far more disturbing because he was so

young.

"Sounds like you had a busy night."

"The usual," he said, smiling. �He loved it.� This was what he had gone

to school for.� "What about you?� Having fun?� Meet any cowboys yet?"

"Just one.� The one who picked me up at the airport.� He's about twelve

years old and twelve feet tall, a kid from Mississippi.� It's

incredible here, by the way, I really love it."

"How's your friend?"

"Fine.� And she had a surprise for me.� Our other roommate from

Berkeley.

It's a long story, but she and I haven't spoken in twenty years.� She

was ready to take the next plane back to New York when she saw me.� But

I think we made peace last night.

I was a real shit to her twenty years ago, I've never forgiven myself

for it.� And it was really nice to put that behind us.

"Sounds like you've been busy too," he said kindly.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, go back to sleep.� I'm sorry I called so early."� It was only

five-thirty in the morning for him by then, and he was about to go to

bed.� But he had wanted her to know about Quinn Morrison as soon as it

happened.� He knew that was what she would have wanted.

"Thanks for calling, Sam.� I really appreciate it.� I know you did your

best for him.� Don't feel that you didn't.� I wouldn't have been able

to do anything different."� It was nice of her to say that to him, and

he was grateful.� She was a good woman.

"Thank you for that, Zoe.� Take care.� I'll talk to you soon," but as

he hung up, he felt sad thinking of her.� There was so much there, so

much he wanted and admired, and he couldn't get near her.� And he

sensed her loneliness too.� There was an overwhelmingly vulnerable

quality about her, and yet she was hiding somewhere, and he was

beginning to suspect he would never find her.

At that exact moment, as he went to bed, Zoe was standing in the living

room of their cabin in Moose, Wyoming, watching the sun come up over

the Grand Tetons.� And there were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks

at the sheer beauty of it.� She thought of Quinn Morrison, and the life

he had led.� She was sorry he had died, she was sorry for so many of

them.� There was so much grief in life .� . . Ellie .� . . and Todd .

. . and all the sorrows she'd seen, and yet at the same time there was

this overwhelming beauty.� And she was suddenly glad she had come.

Whatever happened, she had seen the sun come up once in her life over

the Grand Tetons.� It was impossible not to know there was a God when

you saw that.� She tiptoed quietly back to her own room, and lay in

bed, thinking of Sam, and looking out over the mountains.

On their first morning at the ranch, Zoe went back to sleep for a while

after Sam called, but she woke again just as Mary Stuart wandered out

of her room.� Zoe heard someone stirring, and got out of bed, and the

two women met in the kitchen, where Mary Stuart was making coffee.

They were both in their nightgowns, and Mary Stuart looked up and

smiled at her.

Zoe looked more rested than she had before, and surprisingly young that

morning.

"Can I make you some coffee?� There's tea too, if you want it."� But

she didn't, and Zoe helped herself to a mug of steaming coffee.� "Is

Tanya up yet?"� Zoe asked, and then they both grinned.� "I guess some

things don't change."

Mary Stuart looked at her old friend seriously for a moment.� They had

been estranged for so many years.� "No, they don't.� I'm glad.� I'm

glad I came."� She looked right into Zoe's eyes.

"So am I, Stu.� I wish I hadn't been stupid way back then.� I wish we'd

talked over the years.� I'm just glad we saw each other now.� I would

have hated to have this stay between us."� It had gone on for long

enough.� Ellie had been laid to rest for more than twenty years, and

their old battles could be too.� Looking back, it seemed so foolish and

such a pathetic waste of time.� "I owe Tanya one for asking you here

and not telling me."

"She's a cagey little thing, isn't she?"� Mary Stuart laughed.� "All

the way here on the bus she never said a word.� I should have suspected

something though.� She said we' a couple of times before I agreed to

come, and I think her assistant said something about they' and three

rooms.� I thought she meant the kids.� It never dawned on me she'd

invited anyone.� And it worked out so well for me when Alyssa canceled

our trip.

I had nothing to do."

"It's a godsend for me too."� She thought of the light on the mountains

that morning when Sam had called to tell her Quinn Morrison had died.

She told Mary Stuart about it, as they sat at the narrow counter in the

kitchen alcove, and sipped their coffee.

"It must be depressing work," Mary Stuart said quietly.� "I admire you

for it, but you just can't win."� She thought of how awful it had been

when Todd had died, she couldn't imagine dealing with that every day.

But then again, he had been her son, not her patient.

"You can win for a while.� And oddly enough, it's not depressing most

of the time.� You learn to take the little victories, you get more and

more determined to win the fight.� And sometimes you lose."� She lost a

lot of the time, it was inevitable.� But some of it had to do with the

circumstances, and how ready the patient and the family were to let

go.

Sometimes it was just time, like with Quinn.� It was the children she

hated to lose most, and the young people, the ones who had so much left

to live and to learn and to give.� Like herself.� But she hadn't

absorbed that yet.

"You're lucky you found the right path for yourself so long ago," Mary

Stuart said, envying her, and enjoying her company.� It was easy to

remember why they had been such good friends.� The rift seemed so

unimportant now.� In the sunlight of honesty, it had finally

vanished.

"I do a lot of charity work in New York, a lot of committees and

volunteer work, but I've been thinking of getting a job.� I just don't

know what I'd do.� All I've ever really done is be a wife, and mother

to our kids."

"That's not bad."� Zoe smiled at her, suddenly realizing how much she'd

missed her.� And in the unexpected twilight of her life, she realized

how much she needed her friends now.� It was all the more poignant for

her because she had always thought she would have so much time, and now

she didn't.� "Being a wife and mother is a job too."

"Well, in that case," Mary Stuart said, setting down her mug, "I think

my job is almost over.� Alyssa is grown up.� Todd is gone, I'm not even

a wife to Bill anymore.� We just live at the same address and my name

is on his tax forms.� Suddenly, I feel useless."

"You're not.� Maybe it's just time to move on."

She was right, but the problem was to where.� Mary Stuart had been

doing a lot of thinking.� "I keep looking for the answers, of what to

do, where to live, what to tell Bill when he comes back.� I don't even

want to talk to him right now.� But he doesn't want to talk to me

either.� He hardly ever calls.� Maybe he's going through the same

thing, and just doesn't want to say it.� He must realize that it's all

over."

"Maybe you should ask him," Zoe said, and looked at her watch,

wondering when Tanya was going to get up, and then she glanced at Mary

Stuart.� "What time are we supposed to be at breakfast?"

"Eight o'clock, I think."� It was seven-thirty by then, and they had to

dress, and then Mary Stuart looked at her old friend with a quizzical

expression.� "Are you leaving today?"� Her voice was very gentle.

There was a long pause and then Zoe shook her head.� "I'd rather not,

unless you want me to.� But it's up to you, you've come the greatest

distance.� If anyone leaves, I should."

Mary Stuart smiled at her gently.� "I want you to stay, Zoe, and I'd

like to stay too.� Let's put all that stuff behind us.� We both loved

Ellie, we all did.� She would have wanted us all to be together.� Of

all of us, she was the most loving, the most giving, it would have

broken her heart to know that we hadn't spoken for twenty-one years

because of her."� It was true and they both knew it.

Zoe was frowning, thinking of her.� "She deserves to have a broken

heart, after what she did to all of us.� I think I was so rotten to you

at the time because I was so mad at her and there was no one to take it

out on."

"I went through the same thing with Todd.� I was mad at everyone for

the first six months, Alyssa, her friends, myself, the maid, the dog,

Bill," she said sadly, "and he still is mad.� I think he always will

be."

"Maybe he's just stuck," Zoe said kindly.� "I was.� I was mad for a

long time, and when I got over it, you were gone, we had all gone our

separate ways.� You'd married Bill, I was in medical school, it seemed

easier to let it slide, but I was wrong to do that.� Maybe Bill is

sliding too."� It was a fair assessment and Mary Stuart nodded.

"I think he slid right out the door a while back and I didn't

notice."

She smiled and then looked at her watch again.� It was twenty to eight

and they had to get ready for breakfast.� "What do you say we wake

sleeping beauty?"� They grinned at each other, and laughing all the

way, they tiptoed to her room, and pounced on the huge bed, on either

side of her.� She was wearing a white satin nightgown and a sleep mask,

and she acted as though she were being roused from the dead when they

woke her.

"Oh?� God .� . . stop it .� . . I hate you .� . . stop that .� .."

Zoe was tickling her feet, and Mary Stuart was hitting her with

pillows.� They were just like two kids, and Tanya was overwhelmed as

she tried to hide beneath the covers and found she couldn't.� "Will you

stop it!� Stop that!

It's the middle of the night, for God's sake!"� She had always hated

getting up in the morning, and they always had to drag her out of bed

so she wouldn't miss her rmorning classes.

"Take off your sleep mask," Mary Stuart said.� "Breakfast is in fifteen

minutes, and the stuff on the desk says we have to be at the corral at

eight forty-five to pick out our horses.� Get your ass out of bed and

get ready."� She sounded totally in charge, and Zoe was dragging her

out of bed by one arm, as Tanya took off her mask and looked from one

to the other.

"Did I hear you say you were going to the corral?� Does this mean

you're staying?"

"Apparently we have no choice," Zoe said, letting go of her and

glancing at Mary Stuart with a spark of mischief in her eye, "if we

don't, you'll sleep the week away, and never get out of the room until

dinner.� We thought we'd stick around and keep you honest.� We know how

much you hate horses.� Without us, you'd probably sit in your room all

day, watching telerision from the Jacuzzi."

"God, what a great idea."� Tanya grinned, proud of both of them, they

had done it.� After all these years, they'd come to their senses and

restored their friendship.� "Why don't you check back with me at

lunchtime, I thought I'd give myself a facial."

"Get your ass out of bed, Miss Thomas," Mary Stuart barked at her.

"You have exactly twelve minutes to brush your teeth, comb your hair,

and get your clothes on."

"Christ, what is this, the Marines?� I knew I shouldn't have asked you

two here.� I could have brought nice people, who treat me right, and

let me get a little sleep.� I'm a very important person."

"The hell you are," Mary Stuart said with a broad grin, "now get out of

that bed.� You can take a shower later."

"Great.� Now I'm going to smell like the horses.� Wait till that hits

the tabloids."

Both Mary Stuart and Zoe stood with their hands on their hips, as Tanya

reluctantly got out of bed, stretching her long exquisite body with a

yawn, and then groaned as she headed toward the bathroom.

"I'll get you a cup of coffee," Zoe said as she headed back to the

kitchen.

"Make it IV please, Doctor," Tanya said as she turned the bathroom

light on and groaned again when she saw her face and hair in the

mirror.

"Oh, God, I'm two hundred years old and look what I look like.� Someone

call a plastic surgeon."

"You look great," Mary Stuart laughed as she looked at her.� She was so

damn beautiful, and the funny thing was she had never really known

it.

Tanya thought she was plain, and the others always laughed at her for

it.� Mary Stuart knew she really believed it.� "Look what I look like

at eight A.M with no makeup."� Mary Stuart frowned at herself in the

mirror.� Her hair was brushed till it shone, her skin was still

beautiful, and she had put on just a hint of pale pink lipstick.� She

was wearing a blue cotton men's shirt, and a pair of freshly pressed

jeans, and a brand-new pair of brown lizard boots from Billy Martin

s.

"Christ, look at you," Tanya complained as she brushed her teeth and

got toothpaste all over her nightgown.� "You look like you just stepped

out of Vogue."

"She just does that to make US feel bad," Zoe said as she handed Tanya

a cup of coffee.� They were used to her.� Even in college, she had

always looked perfect.� It was just her style, and in fact they all

liked it.

She was an inspiration to the others, and always had been.� And guys

had loved i..

Zoe was wearing jeans with holes in the knees, a pair of cowboy boots

she'd had for years, and a comfortable old beige sweater.� Her dark red

hair was pulled back, and she looked neat and casual and very much at

ease in her surroundings.� But both of them had to smile when they saw

Tanya emerge from the bathroom five minutes later.� Even with no makeup

on, and having been dragged out of bed, she looked sensational.� Tanya

was simply a star, without even trying.� Her thick blond hair did all

the right things, as it cascaded past her shoulders.� She hadn't had

time to pull it back, and it looked as though she had planned it that

way.� She had a tight white T-shirt on, and it wasn't indecent in any

way, but it was so sexy no man with eyes in his head would have been

able to stand it, her jeans looked exactly the way they should, not too

tight or too loose, they showed off all the right things, the tight

roundness of her seat, the narrow hips, the small waist, the long

graceful legs.� She was wearing her old yellow boots, and there was a

red bandanna tied around her neck, and she had on plain gold hoop

earrings.� She grabbed a denim jacket she'd brought, her cowboy hat,

and a pair of sunglasses, and she looked like an ad for any dude

ranch.

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd hate you," Mary Stuart said

admiringly, and Zoe grinned.� They were all pretty women, but there was

no denying, Tanya had something special.

"I've never figured out how you do that," Zoe said, taking it all in,

and feeling the same warm glow of affection for her as Mary Stuart.

There had never been so much as an ounce of jealousy between them.

Even years before, the four of them had been the best of friends, more

than sisters.� "I always thought if I watched you get dressed, I'd

figure it out," Zoe said as they left the room, "but it's like one of

those magic tricks, where you can see it done four million times, and

there's always that single moment when the rabbit appears, and you just

never see it happen.� You're the only person I know who can go into a

bathroom and come out looking like a movie star three minutes later.� I

could spend a week in there, and I still come out looking the same,

sort of okay, pretty decent, my hair is combed, my face is clean, my

makeup is on straight, but it's still me.� You come out looking like a

fairy princess."

"It's the miracle of plastic surgery."� Tanya grinned, enjoying their

company, but not believing a word of it.� But she thought they were

sweet to say it.� "If you get enough stuff fixed, you don't need

makeup."

"Bullshit," Mary Stuart corrected her. �"You looked like that at

nineteen.� You used to get up in the morning looking like a

caterpillar, and by the time your feet hit the floor, you were a

butterfly.� I know exactly what Zoe means.� You're just too insecure to

understand it, and believe what you look like.� That's why we all love

you."

"Hell, I thought it was my accent."� She still had the mildest of

Southern drawls.� Her fans particularly loved it when she was

singing.

"I can't believe I let you two get me out of bed at this hour.� It

can't be good for your health, especially in this altitude.� I think

it's bad for my heart actually," Tanya complained as she huffed and

puffed her way up a short hill to the main building.

"It's great for you," Zoe said matter-of-factly with a grin at Mary

Stuart, "and you'll be used to the altitude by tonight.� Just don't

have any booze to drink."

"Why not?� " Tanya looked surprised.� She didn't drink much, but she

just wondered.

"Because you'll get smashed on the first three sips and make an ass of

yourself," Zoe explained, laughing at her, and then reminded her of the

time she had passed out after some dance, and they'd taken her home and

she threw up all over Zoe's bed and Zoe almost killed her.� Zoe and

Mary Stuart were both laughing at her, and she managed to look sheepish

twenty-plus years later, she was trying to tell them she'd had the flu,

and Zoe was saying she'd been just plain drunk, as the three of them

exploded into the dining room like a vision of beauty.

There were people at long tables around the room, and helping

themselves at the buffet, and everyone looked sleepy and subdued,

except for a few guests here and there who looked more animated, and

were clearly morning people.� There was a rumor that Tanya Thomas was

at the hotel, but no one was prepared for what she actually looked

like.� And laughing with her friends, Tanya looked so relaxed and so

young, and so incredibly beautiful that everyone stopped and stared,

and Zoe suddenly felt sorry for her.� Her two friends closed ranks on

her, and they took a table in the f,ar corner.� Mary Stuart sat with

her, while Zoe went to get them some breakfast, but the whole room was

suddenly staring and buzzing, and they both knew it wasn't easy for

her.

"What do you think would happen if I suddenly stood up and mooned

them?"� Tanya whispered, she had her back to the room, and her dark

glasses on.� She had put her hat on the back of her chair, but even

from the back she looked spectacular.� She was every inch a star, and

the whole world knew it.

"I think you'd make a big impression," Mary Stuart answered her, and

they chatted quietly until Zoe arrived with a plate of danish and some

bacon, and juggling three yogurts.

"I ordered scrambled eggs and oatmeal for all of us," she said, and

Tanya looked horrified.

"I'm going to have to go to the fat farm for six months after this.� I

can't eat all that crap for breakfast."

"It's good for you," Zoe said matter-of-factly.� "You're adjusting to

high altitude and you're going to be doing a lot of exercise.� Eat a

good breakfast.� Doctor's orders."� She was taking the same advice

herself, and Tanya helped herself to a yogurt.

"I am not planning to gain ten pounds while I'm here," Tanya said

staunchly, but she was hungrier than she thought, and a few minutes

later, she helped herself to a danish.� Zoe had gone back to the buffet

for more by then, and Tanya glanced at her with a grim look when she

returned to the table.� She knew without even looking what was

happening all around her.� "How bad is it?"

"The food?� I think it's good."� Zoe looked surprised.� She had thought

the pastry and bacon were delicious, and the eggs had just arrived and

they smelled good too.� But Tanya didn't mean the food, she meant the

people.

"Not the food, dummy.� The folks.� I can smell it."

"Oh."� Zoe understood, and glanced at Mary Stuart as she began to eat

her eggs.� She hadn't been planning to tell Tanya.� "That.� Oh, it's

probably about par for the course."

"Just tell me so I know what to expect.� Are the natives friendly?"

She was hoping they'd lose interest eventually, they sometimes did when

she stayed somewhere, or sometimes she just had to leave and go

somewhere else, but she wasn't planning to do that.� She had hoped to

remain low-key enough to blend in with the other people, but that was

hopeless.

"Well, let's see."� Zoe looked at her, amazed at what happened to

people whenever they were around her.� "Four women want to know if your

hair is real, two of their husbands want to know if you've had a boob

job, or if they're real.� One guy loves your ass.� Three women think

you've had a face-lift, but five others swear you haven't.� There's a

bunch of teenage girls dying for your autograph, but their mothers say

they'll kill them if they ask, and all of the waiters are already in

love with you and think you're gorgeous.� I think that pretty much

covers it, except for the little Mexican guy who made our eggs and

wants to know if the rumor is true that you're originally Hispanic.� I

told him I didn't think so, and he was real disappointed."� As she

listened, Tanya was grinning.� She knew that Zoe was probably

exaggerating a little bit, but it probably wasn't far off the mark.� It

was always like that.� But as long as they stayed in control and kept

their distance, she could live with it.� If not, they would ruin her

vacation.

"Tell the guy who loves my ass it's real, and I'll be happy to send his

secretary a Xerox."

"What about the boobs?"� Zoe asked her seriously.� "Are we prepared to

make a statement on those?"

"Tell them to read People magazine.� It'll be in there next week."

"Oh, that's right, and another woman wants to know your birth sign.

She swears you're Pisces just like her sister.� She said you could be

twins.

She wants to show you a picture."

"I can't believe this."� Mary Stuart looked at her in amazement.� "How

do you stand it?"

"I don't.� I'm a little crazy," Tanya said with a grin, taking a bite

of oatmeal.� "They say you get used to it, and maybe I have, and just

don't know it."� The truth was she was willing to accept a lot of it,

it was only when it went over the line or was really cruel that it hurt

her.� And most of the time it was, which was the problem.

This kind of stuff, the birth signs, the questions, the autographs, it

was all pretty harmless.

"It would drive me right out of my mind," Zoe said honestly.� "I used

to cringe for you every time I saw your name in the tabloids."

"I still do," Mary Stuart said.� "Sometimes I grab a bunch of them in

the supermarket and hide them," she said proudly, and Tanya smiled at

her two friends.� It WdS amazing, after two decades in Hollywood and

all the people she'd met, these were still the two people she cared

about most, and felt closest to.� Being with them made her feel safe

and protected.

"I don't know how you learn to live with it," Tanya said with a sigh.

"It still hurts so much sometimes, the stuff they write, the lies.� It

makes me want to run away and hide.� Sometimes I just think I'll go

back to Texas.� But my agent says I can't escape it now.� It's too big,

and it's gone on for too long.� He says if I retire it'll just go on

forever, so I guess there's not much point in running away.� At least

this way, I get to sing, and make a little money."

Mary Stuart laughed at that though.� "A little money" to Tanya was a

king's ransom.� She saw the look in her friends' eyes and laughed at

herself.� "Okay.� A lot of money.� But what the hell, there have to be

some compensations."

"This is one of them."� Zoe smiled and looked around her, grateful to

be here.� "You know, if it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have

taken a vacation for another eleven years.� This all just kind of

happened spur-of-the-moment."

"What finally made you come?"� Tanya asked, she had forgotten to ask

her, and Zoe hesitated for only a fraction of a second.

"I got the flu, and I was feeling like hell.� And I got a really good

relief doctor I know to do a locum tenens for me, that means he's

covering for me.� That's what he does for a living, it's his specialty,

covering for other docs in their practices.� He has no practice of his

own.� Anyway, he said he'd cover for me, and he kind of pushed me.� And

you had asked me about coming to Wyoming."

"Good for him," Tanya approved.� "Is he married?"

"No.� But he's not dating my patients, he's taking care of them," Zoe

laughed.� Sometimes Tanya had a one-track mind.� She had always loved

arranging blind dates between their friends when they were in

college.

"Never mind them.� What about you?� Is he dating you?"� Tanya's

infallible radar had picked up something.

"Nope.� I was going out with a breast surgeon for a while, but it was

nothing serious and that's over."� Mary Stuart knew about Adam years

before, but she'd never heard about anyone since then.� She wondered if

there was a serious man in Zoe's life, but she said there wasn't.

"Don't doctors ever go out with anyone else except other physicians?"

Tanya complained.� "Talk about staying within the industry.� That's

like actors.� Talking shop is so boring."

"No, it's not.� Maybe no one else can put up with us, the hours, the

pressures.� Our interests are pretty narrow."

"So what about this guy, this local tenant' or whatever you said he

was?� Is he cute?"� Tanya asked her.

"Oh, come on," Zoe blushed, and Tanya saw it.� "He's just a doctor."

"Bullshit!� You're blushing!"� Mary Stuart was laughing at both of them

and Zoe was squirming in her seat under Tanya's interrogation.� "Aha!

He must be cute, and he's not married.� What does he look like?"

"A teddy bear.� He's big and burly with brown hair and brown eyes.

Satisfied?� Okay?� I've had dinner with him once, and I won't date him

and he knows it.� Okay?"� Zoe gave it right back to her old buddy, but

Tanya was not ready to drop the subject.

"Why not?� Is he straight?� I mean, in San Francisco, he could be .

.

."

She looked apologetic and Zoe groaned.

"You're hopeless.� He's straight, he looks okay, he's single, and I'm

not interested.� End of subject."� She was very firm with Tanya, to

whom it meant nothing.� Tanya had decided that Zoe liked him despite

her protestations.

"Why not?� Why aren't you interested?� Does he have some awful flaw?

Bad breath, bad manners, a prison record, something we should know

about and hold against him, or are you just being difficult?"� Zoe had

always been incredibly picky about who she dated.

"I don't have time for anyone.� I work all the time, and I have a

daughter."

"That's a terrible attitude," Tanya scolded her."� This is not a dress

rehearsal," " she quoted her favorite poster.� "You can't live alone

for the rest of your life, Zoe.� It's unhealthy."

"I don't believe this.� I'm a middle-aged woman and I can do anything I

want.� I'm too old to date.� Besides, I don't want "Well, thanks for

warning me," Tanya said, pushing away her plate.� She had eaten

everything, even the eggs.� "You're a year older than I am, which means

I have a year before it's all over.� And if you tell anyone I'm that

old, by the way, I'll kill you."

"Don't worry," Zoe said, grinning at her, "they'd never believe me."

"They might, but I'll just say you're a compulsive liar.� Now, what's

this guy's name, he sounds terrific."

"Sam.� And you're a nutcase."

"Tell the tabloids.� I like him.� He sounds great."

"You don't know anything about him," Zoe said firmly, trying to feel

calm about it.� She wasn't sure why, but Tanya had unnerved her.� She

had always had the ability to do that.

"I know that you're scared to death of him, which means it must be a

serious relationship.� If he were a jerk, you wouldn't care.� I think

you know he'd be perfect for you.� How long have you known him?"

"Since medical school.� We went to Stanford together."

Zoe couldn't believe she was answering her questions, and Mary Stuart

was smiling at both of them, and putting on lipstick.� It was just like

the old days.� They used to have discussions like that over breakfast

in Berkeley.� Tanya had been so in love with Bobby Joe she thought the

whole world should be in love, engaged, or getting married.� She hadn't

changed much.

"You've known him since medical school?� Why haven't you done anything

about him till now?"� Tanya looked outraged.

"Because we've both been involved with other people, other lives.� I

lost track of him for a while, now he's doing some work for me.� He's a

nice guy, but that's it.� Now, are we going to ride horses or are we

going to talk about Sam all day?"

"I think you should go out with him and give the guy a chance," Tanya

grumbled as she got to her feet.� She hadn't had this much fun in

years, and neither had the others.� "I vote for Sam.� Let's all discuss

this again later."

"I'll be sure to do that," Zoe said, rolling her eyes, and Mary Stuart

shepherded them all to the corral.� They were the last to get there,

and when they arrived, Tanya's appearance once again made a huge

sensation.

There were whispers, people staring at her, kids shoving each other and

pointing fingers.� A couple of people snuck photographs, but she turned

away from them artfully and quickly.� She didn't mind posing for

photographs with fans from time to time, but she didn't want the

intrusion on her private life, and she was definitely "off duty."� The

Star Is Out, she whispered to Zoe.� But both of her friends were good

at blocking people's view of her, and the threesome huddled discreetly

in a remote corner, while the woman in charge of the stables called out

names, to match people with horses.� The night before they had all

filled out forms, absolving the ranch of liability, and explaining the

extent of their ability and experience with horses.� Tanya had written

down Advanced/Hate them/Will ride only intermediate level with

friends.

Both Mary Stuart and Zoe were only fair riders.� Mary Stuart had more

experience, but she hadn't ridden in years, and she had only ridden

English.� Zoe had ridden several times, but not recently, and none of

them were anxious to prove anything.� They just wanted to go on easy

trail rides.� And the ranch had already explained that there were too

many guests at the moment to send them out without other guests, but

Tanya said she didn't mind that.� If it got too difficult because they

hounded her or took constant photographs, or she didn't like the people

they chose, she could always opt to stop riding.� But she was willing

to try it for the moment.

As it turned out, their names were among the last to be called, and

there were only three other guests left beside them.� The head of the

corral came over and talked to Tanya personally, as a tall wrangler

with dark hair led her horse out.

"We wanted to let the crowd thin a little bit to give you some air,"

Liz Thompson explained to her.� She was a tall, lanky woman with a

weathered face and a powerful handshake, somewhere in her

mid-fifties.

"I didn't think you needed to have fifty people taking photographs

while you got your feet in the stirrups," she said sensibly, and Tanya

thanked her.� "I noticed on your card you're not a horse lover," she

smiled, "I think we have a nice old guy for you here."� For a minute,

Tanya wondered if she meant the horse or the wrangler, but it was

obvious from the man adjusting the saddle for her that it was not the

cowboy.� He looked about forty years old, and he had a powerful build

and broad shoulders.� But when he looked at her, she saw that he had an

interesting, weathered face, and he was eyeing her with interest.� If

you looked at him for a while, he was almost good-looking.� His

cheekbones were a little too broad, his chin too prominent, and yet it

all fit together right, and he had a drawl similar to her own, and when

she asked, he said he was from Texas.� But they were from opposite ends

of the state, and he didn't seem inclined to pursue the matter

further.

Most people tried to find some common ground with her.� He was only

interested in saddling up her horse, adjusting the stirrups for her,

tightening the girth for her again, and getting the others mounted.

And as soon as she settled on Big Max as her horse was called, he left

her.� The only way she knew the cowboy's name, since he hadn't

introduced himself, was when she heard one of the other wranglers call

him.� His name was Gordon.

Zoe's horse was a paint mare, and she looked spirited, but Liz had

promised she was friendly, and Zoe looked surprisingly comfortable in

the saddle.� And Mary Stuart was riding a palomino.� Big Max was a tall

black horse with a long mane and tail, and as he shied a little in the

corral, Tanya wondered if he was as sleepy as Liz had promised.� She

had no intention of battling a wild horse all over these mountains.

But Liz explained as she walked by that he'd be fine once he got out,

he was corral-shy.� The head of the corral was being very attentive to

Tanya.

Far more so than Gordon, who was busy with the three other guests he'd

been assigned, a middle-aged couple from Chicago who introduced

themselves as Dr.� Smith and Dr.� Wyman, but appeared to be married.

They even looked alike, which amused Tanya and she said something to

Zoe.� And then there was a man alone.� He looked to be about

fifty-five, and Mary Stuart kept staring at him, she could swear she

knew him.� He was tall and spare and had a mane of gray hair, and sharp

blue eyes that examined the entire group with interest.� He was a

good-looking man and even Tanya couldn't help noticing he had

distinguished features.� She could see that he had noticed her too, and

he smiled when he realized who she was, but he didn't approach her.

And he seemed equally interested in the others.

And it was only once they were on their way that Mary Stuart sidled up

to Tanya on her horse and whispered to her.

"Do you know who that is?"� She had finally figured it out.� She'd seen

him once before, but here he looked different.� But Tanya didn't know

him.� She glanced again and shook her head in answer.� "It's Hartley

Bowman."� It took a minute to register and then Tanya nodded with

interest, forcing herself not to glance over her shoulder.

"The writer?"� she whispered instead, and Mary Stuart nodded.� He

currently had two books on the bestseller list, one hard cover and one

soft.� And he had had a highly respected career.� "Is he married?"� she

asked her friend from New York, and Mary Stuart rolled her eyes at

her.

She was hopeless.

"Widowed," Mary Stuart supplied, she remembered reading that his wife

had died of breast cancer a year or two before.� It had been in Time

magazine or Newsweek.� And as a writer, he was extremely respected.� He

looked interesting too, and Mary Stuart would have liked to talk to

him, but she didn't want to be like the people who pestered Tanya.

Mary Stuart and Tanya rode on side by side for a while, and Zoe had

already begun chatting with the two physicians from Chicago.� Tanya was

right.� Doctors always seemed to hang out together.� They were both

oncologists, and the wife had heard of Zoe's work and her clinic.� And

they were chatting animatedly as the horses made their way slowly

across the valley.� There were fields full of blue and yellow flowers

all around them, and the snow-capped mountains were looming high above

them.

"It's incredible, isn't it?"� Mary Stuart heard a voice next to her and

jumped as Tanya rode ahead toward the wrangler.� Big Max had tired of

moving at a snail's pace, and she had given him his head for a few

minutes, which left Mary Stuart alone, but not for long.� Hartley

Bowman had joined her.� "Have you been here before?"� he asked

casually, as though they were old acquaintances, but the atmosphere at

the ranch was very informal.

"No, I haven't," she said quietly, "it's lovely."� And she couldn't

help glancing at him as he rode along beside her.� He was very

nice-looking.

He had a clean, tweedy look to him.� He had lovely hands, she noticed

as he held the reins, and a riding style that told her he rode

English.

She mentioned it to him and he laughed.

"I always feel a little odd in Western saddles.� I ride in

Connecticut," he volunteered, and she nodded.� "Are you from the West

Coast?"� He was intrigued by her, and the group she was traveling

with.

He had recognized Tanya immediately and wondered how Mary Stuart fitted

into the entourage, but he didn't want to ask her.

"I'm from New York," she said.� "I just came Ollt for two weeks."

"So did I," he said, looking very much at ease with her, as he

smiled.

"I come every year.� My wife and I used to love it.� This is the first

time I've come back since she died."� Mary Stuart suspected it was hard

for him, but he didn't say it.� But she imagined that, having been

there with someone before, it had to be lonely for him.� "A lot of

people come here from the East.� It's really worth the trip.� I come

here for the mountains," he confessed, glancing at them.� In truth,

they all did, even those who didn't know it.� The others thought they

came for the horses.

"There's something very healing about them.� I wasn't going to come

again, and I didn't last year, but I found I just couldn't stay away.

I needed to be here."� He said it pensively, as though surprised at

himself for coming.� "I normally prefer the ocean, but there's

something magical about Wyoming, and these mountains."� She understood

exactly what he meant.� Ever since the day before, she had begun to

feel it.� It was part of why Jackson Hole had become so popular in

recent years.� It was like being drawn to Mecca.

"It's funny you should say that," she confessed to him, feeling

surprisingly comfortable with him, considering the fact that they were

strangers.� But he was so open.� "I've felt it too.� I felt it

yesterday when we arrived.� It's as though the mountains are waiting

for you here .� . . as though you can tell your troubles to them, and

they're waiting to embrace you."� She was afraid it would sound silly

to him, but he knew just what she meant as he nodded.

"It must be difficult for your friend," he said gently.� "I was

watching the people in the dining room, they were transformed the

moment she arrived, and without even meaning to, they became completely

foolish.

She doesn't get a moment without people reacting to her, wanting to be

with her, taking her picture, trying to be a part of her aura."� It was

an interesting analysis, but it was true, and it intrigued Mary Stuart

that he saw it so clearly.

"It must be difficult for anyone who's well-known," she said, not

wanting to tell him that she had recognized him and read his last six

books and loved them.� She didn't want to appear starstruck.� After

being close to Tanya for all these years, she knew just how annoying it

could be.

"It has its disadvantages."� And then he looked at Mary Stuart with a

smile.� He had understood perfectly that she knew him.� "But I'm not in

those leagues.� Few are.� There are probably only a handful of people

in the world who have to put up with what she does.� She seems to be

very gracious about it."

"She is," Mary Stuart said staunchly.

"Do you work with her?"� He didn't want to pry, but he wondered if the

two women constantly at her side were her assistants.

"We were college roommates," Mary Stuart explained with a smile.

"And you're still friends?� How amazing.� Now, there's a story," and

then he quickly explained himself before he could alarm her, "for a

book, not the tabloids," he specified, and they both laughed.

"Thank you.� She gets such a rough break all the time.� It's so

unfair."

"You stop being human to them the moment you're a star.� You no longer

matter, you become human garbage," he said sadly, and Mary Stuart

nodded.

"She calls it life as an object."� She says you become a thing, and

anything they do to you then is allowed.� She's put up with a lot.� I

don't know how she does it."

"She must be strong," and then he smiled at Mary Stuart, admiring her

impeccable good looks.� He loved her style, but he wouldn't have dared

tell her.� "She's fortunate to have good friends."

"We're lucky to have her."� Mary Stuart smiled again.� "It was really

serendipity that we came here.� It all kind of happened at the last

minute."

"How fortunate for the rest of us," he said.� "The three of you

certainly improve the landscape."� He glanced from her to Tanya,

looking glorious, as she loped easily along beside the wrangler, but

Mary Stuart noticed that they weren't talking, just riding.� "She's an

incredible-looking woman."� He couldn't help but admire her, and Mary

Stuart nodded with a smile, completely without envy.� "I really enjoy

her music.� I have all of her CD's," he admitted, looking slightly

embarrassed, and Mary Stuart laughed as she smiled at him.

"I have all your books."� She blushed as she said it.

"Do you?"� He looked pleased and held a hand out to her and introduced

himself, though it was obviously not necessary, just good manners.

"Hartley Bowman."

"I'm Mary Stuart Walker."� They shook hands across their horses' necks,

and rode on together comfortably.� Tanya and the wrangler were far

ahead by then, the trio of doctors bringing up the rear, discussing

articles and research, and some new research that had been done

recently in oncology at Mass General.

Mary Stuart and Hartley chatted for a while, about books, and New York,

the literary scene, other authors, and Europe, when she said her

daughter was studying in Paris.� They seemed to touch on a wealth of

subjects, and they were both surprised when the wrangler turned slowly

around and led them back to the corral.� It was lunchtime.� Hartley and

Mary Stuart were still chatting when they dismounted.� And she noticed

an odd look on Tanya's face when she got off Big Max and handed the

reins to the wrangler.

"Are you okay?"� she asked as Tanya walked over to join them, and she

introduced her to Hartley.

"I'm fine.� But our wrangler is really strange.� He absolutely would

not say one word to me.� We just rode out, and then back.� He acted

like I had bubonic plague or something.� He hates me."� Mary Stuart

laughed at her analysis of the situation.� She had never met a man who

hated Tanya, certainly not at first meeting.

"Maybe he's shy," Mary Stuart volunteered.� He looked pleasant

enough.

He just wasn't very chatty.

"A lot of them are," Hartley explained.� "The first few days they

barely say hello, and by the time you leave, you feel like brothers.

They're not used to all this big-city stuff, and they're not as chatty

as we are," he said, and Tanya looked at him with a smile.

"I thought I'd said something to offend him."� Tanya looked slightly

worried.

"I suspect Liz told him to behave himself with you, not to say too

much.� It's got to be pretty impressive for these guys to be around a

big star like you," he grinned and looked like a kid then, gray hair

and all, "it even makes me tremble a little.� I have all your CD's,

Miss Thomas, and I love them."

"I've read your books, and I like them too."� She smiled at him.� It

always amazed her when someone important was impressed with her.� She

never completely understood it.� "I like them a lot."� They both looked

shy with each other, uncomfortable with their own success to a

degree.

Each of them were stars in their own right.� He seemed much more at

ease with Mary Stuart than with Tanya, and then Zoe joined them, saying

she'd had a great morning.� She'd really enjoyed talking to the two

doctors.

And Mary Stuart introduced her to Hartley.

"What's your specialty?"� he asked amiably as they wandered back toward

their cabins to wash up before lunch.

"AIDS," she said simply, "and related problems.� I run a clinic in San

Francisco."� He nodded.� He'd been thinking about doing a book about

it, but he'd been dragging his feet about doing the research.� It

seemed so depressing.� But he was obviously fascinated by what she did,

and asked her a great many questions.� And he seemed sorry to leave

them at their cabin, and said he'd see them at lunchtime.� He went off

on his own, head down, looking pensive, as he walked toward his cabin,

and Tanya watched him.

"What an interesting man," Tanya commented as they walked into their

home away from home, and she took her scarf off.� It had gotten hot

since that morning.

"He's crazy about your music," Mary Stuart said encouragingly.� She

would have loved to see Tanya with someone like Hartley, although she

had to admit they didn't seem to have a lot in common.� Hartley was

very smooth and very Eastern, intellectual but worldly somehow, and

very polished.� Tanya was so much more exuberant and sensual, not wild,

but so alive.� Mary Stuart thought she needed someone more powerful to

tame her, or at least make her happy.

"He may be crazy about my music," Tanya said wisely, better versed in

the ways of the world than Mary Stuart, "but he likes you, kiddo.� It's

written all over him.� He couldn't take his eyes off you."

"That's bullshit.� He's intrigued by all three of us.� You know, kind

of like Charlie's Angels."

"I'll bet you money he comes on to you before you leave here," Tanya

said with total certainty, and Zoe rolled her eyes at both of them and

washed her hands in the kitchen.

"You two are disgusting.� Is that all you think about?� Dating?"

"Yeah," Tanya said with a mischievous grin.� "Sex.� Read the

tabloids."

But they all knew better.� Tanya had always been, and still was, very

moral.� Perhaps even more so than the others, and she'd always been

monogamous, even in college.� "I'm telling you what I see.� The guy is

crazy about Mary Stuart."

"How crazy can he be?� I just met him this morning."

"Well, his wife died a couple of years ago, right?� So he's got to be

horny as hell, so watch out for him, Stu.� He could be a wild man."

Mary Stuart and Zoe were both laughing at her, as she pinned her thick

blond hair up on her head without looking and instantly looked even

sexier than she had at breakfast.

"Why don't you wear a bag over your head or something?"� Mary Stuart

said in disgust.� "I don't know why I bother to comb my hair when you

look like that without looking in the mirror."

"Yeah, and look how much good it does me.� Even the wrangler won't give

me the time of day.

Christ, I thought the guy's lips had been sewed shut.� He never said

one word to me.� What an asshole."

"Are you trying to pick up the wranglers now?"� Zoe shook a finger at

her, and Tanya looked insulted.

"I just wanted somebody to talk to.� Tolstoy or Charles Dickens or

whoever he is was chewing Mary Stuart's ear off, you and the docs from

Chicago were talking about disgusting stuff that makes my stomach feel

sick, and that left me with Roy Rogers.� Well, let me tell you, the guy

gets an F in conversation."

"Better than if he got fresh with you," Zoe said matter-offactly, "or

were some crazed fan asking dumb questions."

"Yeah, I guess so," she conceded, "but it sure was boring."� They heard

the bell ring for lunch then, and were just starting out the door of

the cabin when the phone rang.� The three of them looked at each other,

tempted not to answer, but they knew they had to.� Zoe volunteered to

do phone duty.� It could have been Sam about one of her patients,

or Jade.

But it was Jean, Tanya's assistant.� She had to talk to her about a

contract.� She was sending the originals for the concert tour, and a

redlined copy by Federal Express, at the request of her lawyer, and he

wanted to talk to her as soon as she read it.� Just listening to her

made Tanya antsy.

"Okay.� I'll look at it when it gets here."

"He wants you to send it back right away.� No kidding."

"Okay, okay, I'll do it.� Anything else major I need to know about?"

An employee she'd dismissed had signed a release agreeing not to sue,

which was a relief for a change, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar both wanted

to do spreads on her, and one of the movie magazines was poking around

to do a really nasty story.� "Thanks for the good news," she said,

hating to hear all of it.� It brought the big bad world right to her

doorstep in Wyomillg.

She couldn't wait to hang up and join the others.

"Everything okay?"� Mary Stuart looked at her with concern.� Tanya

looked upset again, and her friend hated to see it.

"More or less.� Someone's not suing for a change, and some lousy

magazine is going to run another ugly story.� No big deal, I guess."

But it was as though they broke off a piece of her soul each time they

did it, like an old, stale cookie.� And one day, there would be no

pieces left at all.� She would have no soul left.� But to them, it made

no difference.

"Don't pay any attention to it," Zoe suggested.� "Just don't read

it."

There had been some critical articles about her when she'd first

started the clinic, but that wasn't the same thing and Tanya knew it

better than she did.� This was so personal, so hurtful, so invasive,

and always so ugly.

"Try to forget it," Mary Stuart said, and both women put their arms

around Tanya's waist, and the three of them walked up to the dining

room, talking like that, with no idea of the powerful impression they

made as they walked along.� They were three very striking women.� And

from his deck, unnoticed by them, Hartley Bowman was watching Mary

Stuart.

Their ride that afternoon was just as pleasant as the one that morning,

and they rode out again in the same groups and configurations.� They

were assigned the same wrangler and the same horses for the duration of

their stay, so Liz, the head of the corral, was anxious to know if

everyone was satisfied with their mounts and their cowboys.� And no one

seemed to have any complaints that she knew of.

Zoe chatted with the doctors again that afternoon, and Tanya tried not

to listen as they had moved on to transplants, which was no better than

the discussion about severed limbs earlier that morning.� And trying to

leave Mary Stuart alone with Hartley as they discussed a book they'd

both read, she moved ahead again with the wrangler.� Once again, they

rode for what seemed like miles, in silence.� And then finally, Tanya

couldn't stand it, and she looked at him from across her horse's neck,

but he never even looked at her.� It was as though he had no idea who

she was beside him. �It was entirely up to her to keep up with him, he

never once acknowledged her presence .

"Is there something about me that bothers you?"� she asked, with an

irritated expression.� He was really beginning to annoy her.� She was

not having fun, and she didn't even like him.

"No, ma'am.� Nothing at all," he said, without a change of

expression.

She thought he was going to lapse into silence again and she wanted to

hit him with her cowboy boot.� He was the most taciturn man she'd ever

met, and she couldn't stand it.� Usually people at least talked to her,

or looked at her, or something.� She had never met anyone with

reactions like Gordon.� But he surprised her after another half mile,

while she was debating whether or not it was worth the trouble of

trying again, just to see if he would answer.� "You're a real good

rider."� At first, she couldn't believe he'd spoken, and this time he

glanced at her sideways, and then looked awayjust as quickly.� It was

almost as though her light was too blinding.� It was that that was

troubling him, but she didn't know that.

"Thank you.� I don't like horses."� Or cowboys.� Or people who don't

talk to me.� Or anything about you.

"I saw that on your card, ma'am.� Any special reason?� You taken a bad

fall sometime?"� She suspected it was the most he'd said all year to

anyone, but at least he was trying.� He was clearly a man of few words,

but she was beginning to wonder if Hartley was right, and he was shy

and not used to city people.� He should have taken a job doing shoes

then, not riding with hotel guests, she thought as she watched him.

"No, I've never fallen.� I just think horses are dumb.� I rode a lot

when I was a kid, but I never liked it."

"I grew up on a horse," he said matter-of-factly, "roping steers.� My

daddy worked on a ranch, and I worked right along with him."� He didn't

tell her that his father had died when he was ten, and he had supported

his mother and four sisters until they all got married and he still

supported his mother, and he had a son he helped out from time to time

in Montana.

Despite what Tanya thought of him, Gordon Washbaugh was a good man, and

a bright one.� "Most of the people who come here say they can ride,

think so too, but they're just plain dangerous.� They don't have any

idea what they're doing.� They all wind up in the dust first day out.

Not many like you, ma'am."� It was a classic understatement and he knew

it.� He looked at her sheepishly, and she was surprised to see that he

was smiling too then."� I never rode with anyone famous.� Makes me

kinda nervous."� He was so honest it impressed her.� And she was

suddenly embarrassed by her complaints to the others at lunchtime.

"Why would it make you nervous?"� His perception of her amused her.� It

was so rare that she could see herself from that perspective.� She

never really understood why people were so fascinated, nor why he would

be frightened of her.

"Don't want to say the wrong thing, ma'am.� Might make you angry."

And then she laughed suddenly, as they rode through a clearing.� The

light was beautiful on the hills, and in the distance they could see a

coyote.� "You really made me mad when you wouldn't talk to me this

morning," she admitted with a grin, and he glanced at her cautiously.

He had no idea whether or not to relax with her, if she was real, and

could be trusted.� "I thought you hated me or something."

"Why would I hate you?� The whole damn ranch wants to know you.� Bought

your CD's, want autographs.� Someone's got a video of you somewhere.

They told us not to say anything to you, not to ask questions, not to

bother you.� I figured it was just better not to talk at all.� Didn't

want to bug you.� The others make such damn fools of themselves.� I

tried to get them to let someone else be your wrangler.� I'm not much

of a talker."� He was so honest with her that in spite of her earlier

assessment of him, she actually liked him.� And he was surprisingly

clean and well-spoken for a cowboy.� "I'm sorry if I hurt your

feelings."� He brought it down to such real emotions, she started to

say he hadn't, but he had, that was the whole point.� It hurt her that

he wouldn't talk to her.� It was something new for Tanya.� "I figured

it'd be more restful for you if I kept my mouth shut."

"Well, make a little noise from time to time just so I know you're

breathing," she said with a lopsided grin, and he guffawed.

"Someone like you, the whole world must chew your ear off.� I couldn't

believe how crazy they all got before you got here.� Must be hard on

you," he said matter-of,factly, getting right to the heart of the

matter, and she nodded.

"It is," she said softly, able to be honest with him, out in the middle

of nowhere, as they loped toward the mountains across a field of

wildflowers.� It was like seeking truth, or finding nirvana.� There was

something about the place that touched her deeply.� She had come here

to amuse her stepchildren originally, and then her friends, but instead

she was finding something she had lost from her soul a long time ago, a

kind of peace she had long since forgotten.� "All those people grabbing

at you, taking something from you, taking something away from you, it's

as though they suck out your spirit and they don't even know it, but

they do .� . . sometimes I think that one day it will kill me, or they

will."

The nightmare of John Lennon being murdered by a fan was vivid for all

famous people who had mobs of fans as she did.� But there were other

nightmares as well, just as lethal in the long run, though less obvious

than the gun that had killed him.� "It's a crazy life where I come

from," she said thoughtfully, "it didn't used to be in the beginning.

But it got that way.� And I don't think it's ever going to change

now."

"You ought to buy a place here," he said, looking straight ahead toward

the Tetons, "a lot of people like you come here, to get away, to hide

for a while, get their spirit back.� They come here, or go to Montana,

Colorado, same idea. �You could go back to Texas."� He smiled at her

and she groaned.

"I think I've outgrown that," she confessed, and he laughed.� His

laughter was a fresh, easy sound that suited him perfectly and made her

smile in answer.

"I think I outgrew Texas a long time ago too.� Too hot, too dusty, too

empty.� That's why I came here.� This suits n e better," he said as she

looked around them and nodded.� It was easy to see why.� Who wouldn't

it have suited?

"Do you live here all year long?"� she asked.� This was much better

than the morning.� Even if she never saw him again, at least now they

were human beings.� He knew something about her, and she knew something

about him.� She thought maybe she'd write a song about him.� The Silent

Cowboy.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"What's it like?"� She was thinking of the song now.

"Cold."� He smiled and glanced at her sideways again.� She was so

beautiful, she scared him.� It was easier not to see her.� "We get

twenty feet of snow sometimes.� We send the horses south in October.

Can't get around except by snowplow."

"It must be lonely," she said thoughtfully, trying to picture it.� It

was light-years away from Bel Air, recording studios, movies,

concerts.

Twenty feet of snow .� . . one solitary man .� . . and a snowplow.

"I like it," he said.� "I keep busy.� I get a lot of time to read, and

think.� I write some," and then he smiled cautiously and glanced at

her, "listen to music."

"Don't tell me you listen to me while you're sitting here in twenty

feet of snow all winter."� The very idea of it was so foreign to her

that it amazed her and she loved it.

"Sometimes," he confessed.� "I listen to other things too.� Country

western.� I used to like jazz but I don't listen to it much anymore.

Beethoven, Mozart."� The man was intriguing to her.� She had definitely

misjudged him.� She wanted to ask him if he was married, if he had a

family, out of curiosity, not out of any interest in him, but that

seemed too personal, and she sensed that he would have been offended.

He was careful to set boundaries and stay well behind them.� And

then, before she could ask him anything else about his life there, they

rejoined the others.� Hartley and Mary Stuart were chatting easily,

and the doctors were still busy dismembering remembered patients,

enchanted with their discussions.� It was a surprisingly congenial

group, and they were all sorry when their trail ride ended.� It was

four o'clock by then, and they were free to go to the swimming pool, go

hiking, or play tennis.

But they were all exhausted and Zoe looked it.� Tanya had been noticing

since the day before that Zoe was paler than she had been in college.

Her already fair skin seemed to have gotten even whiter.

The medical couple from Chicago went for a walk to look at wildflowers,

and Hartley walked the three women back to their cabin, and they were

all startled to see a little boy there.� He was just sitting there, and

when Mary Stuart saw him, she had a visceral reaction.� He was about

six years old, and he seemed to be waiting for someone.

"Hi," Tanya said easily.� "Did you ride today?"

"Yup," he said, pushing a red cowboy hat back on his head.� He was

wearing little black cowboy boots with red bulls on them, and little

blue jeans and a denim jacket.� "My horse's name is Rusty."

"And what's your name?"� Zoe asked as she sat down beside him on the

deck, grateful to sit down for a moment.� The altitude made her

breathless.

"Benjamin," he said formally.� "My mommy's having a baby, so she can't

ride horses."� He was more than willing to share the information, and

Zoe and Tanya exchanged a smile.� Mary Stuart was standing a little

distance away, talking to Hartley, but she was frowning and didn't know

it.� But Tanya had seen it, and she knew why even if Mary Stuart

didn't.� The boy looked so much like her son Todd at the same age that

it made your heart ache.� Tanya wondered if Mary Stuart saw it, but she

didn't want to say anything to Zoe, for fear Mary Stuart would hear

it.

And the odd thing was that the child kept staring at Mary Stuart as

though he knew her.� It was eerie.

"My aunt looks just like you," he offered finally, fascinated by Mary

Stuart, although she was the only one of the group who hadn't spoken to

him, and didn't want to.� She didn't go out of her way to avoid him,

but she didn't enter into conversation with him either.� She had

sensed, more than seen, the resemblance.� And Hartley saw something in

her eyes that made him wonder.

"Do you have children?"� he asked.� He had noticed the wedding band on

her hand that afternoon, but from things she'd said about deciding

where to spend the summer, and the impression he'd gotten that she was

alone, he wasn't exactly clear on her marital status.� And neither was

Mary Stuart.

"Yes, I do .� .."� she answered vaguely in answer to his question

about whether she had children.� "A daughter .� . . I .� . . and a son,

who died," she said awkwardly, and he could see the pain in her eyes

and didn't pursue it.� She turned away from the boy then, and walked

into the cabin with Hartley.� She didn't want to see the child a moment

longer.

"Was he .� .."� he hesitated, wanting to reach out to her, but not

sure how to, "was he very young when he died?"� he asked cautiously,

wondering if he shouldn't mention it at all.� But he wanted to know

more about her.� Perhaps that was why she had come here.� Perhaps he

had died in an accident with the father .� . . or perhaps she was still

married.

There were questions he wanted to ask her.� After riding with her all

day, he felt as though they were friends now.� They were so isolated

from the world they knew, in this remarkable place, thrown together for

only moments) If they were to become friends, they had to learn

everything about each other very quickly.

"Todd was twenty when he died," she said quietly, trying not to see the

little boy beyond the window.� He was still chatting with Zoe and

Tanya.� "It was last year," she said, looking down at her hands for a

moment.

"I'm so sorry," Hartley said softly, and dared to touch her hand for an

instant.� He knew only too well the pain of loss.� He and Margaret had

been married for twenty-six years when he lost her, and they had never

had children.� She couldn't.� And he had accepted that.� In some ways,

he had always thought it brought them closer.� But now he looked at

Mary Stuart and could only glimpse what she had gone through.� "It must

be terrible to lose a child.

I can't imagine it.� It was bad enough when Margaret died.� I really

thought it would kill me.� I was surprised when I woke up every

morning.

I kept waiting to die of grief, and was stunned that I didn't.� I've

been writing about it in my new book all winter."

"It must help writing about it," she said as they sat down on the couch

in the living room.� The other two were still outside talking, but she

couldn't see the boy now.� "I wish I could write about it.� But it's

better now.� I finally put his things away a few weeks ago, before I

came here.� I couldn't bring myself to do it before that."

"It took me nearly two years with Margaret," he said honestly.� And he

had only been out with two women so far and hated both of them for not

being her.� He knew all about the pain of adjusting.� At least she

didn't have that to deal with, though he still didn't know about her

husband.

"It must have been very hard on your husband too," he said, fishing for

information, but she didn't understand that.� He had seen the narrow

wedding band, but the way she spoke didn't confirm that she was

married.

"Actually," she decided to be honest with him.� "It was hard on him.

Our marriage didn't survive it."

Hartley nodded.� He knew about that too, though not firsthand, but from

a cousin who had been through it.� It was not surprising.� "Where is he

now?"

"In London," she said, and he nodded.� It was what he had wanted to

know.� And he assumed that meant Bill lived there.� Mary Stuart didn't

understand why he had asked her and just thought he was being

friendly.

It had been a long time since a man had shown an interest in her, and

she didn't fully comprehend that that was the case now with this one.

For the moment, she just thought they were fellow riders, although she

liked him immensely, and was amazed at how easy he was to talk to.

He asked if they would join him for dinner, and she said she'd ask the

others, and he left her to do some work, and read his mail.� Like many

them, he was managing to maintain contact with his office from a

distance, and he was planning to do a little work here.� He promised to

see her at dinner, and when the others came in, she told them about the

invitation.� And predictably, they teased her, especially Tanya.

"Quick work, Stu!� I like him."� She was smiling at Mary Stuart and

Mary Stuart threw a small cushion at her in outrage.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, he invited all of us to dinner, not just me,

you dummy.� He's lonely.� He lost his wife, and he has no one to talk

to."

"He seemed to be doing fine with you."� Tanya pursued her mercilessly,

and Mary Stuart told her she was silly.

"He's very nice, very intelligent, and very lonely."

"And very interested in you.� I'm not blind, for Heaven's sake, even if

you are.� I think you've been married for so long, you don't even see

it when guys look at you.

"And what about you and the wrangler?"� Mary Stuart teased her right

back.� They were like freshmen.� "He seems to have overcome his speech

block.� You even had him smiling."

"He's a real character.� He lives here alone in the winter, in twenty

feet of snow."� She didn't tell them that he listened to her music.

But there was certainly nothing romantic between them.� Just horses.

"I think you're both blind."� Zoe addressed both of them.� "Hartley

Bowman looks like he's crazy about Stu, and unless I've lost my touch

entirely, I'd say by the time we leave here, our wrangler is going to

be head over heels for Tanya.� I predict it for the yearbook."� They

both laughed at her, and Tanya raised an eyebrow.� It was so

outlandish, she didn't even bother to comment.

"And what about you, Zoe?� Are you going to break Up that marriage and

run off with the doctor from Chicago?"� He was short, round, and bald,

and even the thought of it was really funny.

"Unfortunately, his wife is more interesting than he is, which is a

real problem.� I'd have to run off with her, and that's not my thing,

I'm afraid, so I guess that leaves me high and dry here."

"There's always Sam!"� Tanya reminded her, and Zoe groaned.� That was

not a reminder she wanted.

"Mind your own business.� Little does he know that he has a champion in

Wyoming.� Tell you what, Tan, when you come to San Francisco, I'll

introduce you, and you can go out with him.� You'd like him."

"That's a deal.� Now, let's talk about Mary Stuart."� She turned her

attention to her and Mary Stuart groaned in anticipation.� "Tell us

about your new friend."

"There's nothing to tell. �I told you.� He's just lonely."

"So are you, so am I. So is Zoe.� So what else is new?"� Tanya said,

lying down on the couch.� Her legs ached.� They had done a lot of

riding.

"I'm not lonely," Zoe corrected her.� "I'm very happy."

"I know, you're a saint.� You just don't know you're lonely.� Trust

me," Tanya said, and they all laughed.

"Forget all these guys, I'm going out with Benjamin," Zoe said with a

smile.� He was an adorable child, and they had both liked him.

"Great choice," Tanya said, and Mary Stuart said nothing, but asked

them what they wanted to do about dinner with Hartley.� Should they

accept his invitation to sit at his table?� "Why not?� Maybe we'll get

Mary Stuart all fixed up with him."

"Relax," Mary Stuart said soberly, "I'm still married."

"Does he know that?"� Zoe asked with interest.� Mary Stuart wore a

wedding band, but he might have wondered where her husband was and why

she had come to the ranch with two women.

"He didn't ask actually," Mary Stuart said, confirming her belief that

he was only interested in friendship.� "He asked where my husband was

at one point, and I said in London."

"Oh-oh," Tanya said wisely.� "You'd better clear that up.� I think

that's what he was asking, he may have gotten the wrong impression from

that."

But what was the right one?

"I told him our marriage didn't survive when my son died," she said

casually.

"You told him that?"� Tanya looked startled.� That was a lot to say to

a perfect stranger.� But they had spent six hours riding side by

side.

It was more time together than some couples spent in a week's time, and

he had been very interested in her.

"Maybe I should tell him I'm still married," though she didn't know for

how much longer.� But somehow it seemed presumptuous to just volunteer

that information.� What if he really didn't care if she was married?

"I'll see what seems appropriate.� I really don't think he's interested

like that," Mary Stuart said demurely, and the other two hooted at

her.

"You're both disgusting," she said, and went to take a shower, while

Zoe called Sam.� She wanted to know what was happening in her office,

but he was in a treatment room with a patient.� And Annalee told her

that everything was going smoothly.� She went to lie down after that,

and had a short nap before dinner.� She was surprised at how well she

felt when she got up.� Sleep really made a difference.

The three of them dined with Hartley that night.� He was intelligent,

interesting, and wonderfully worldly.� He had traveled everywhere, knew

fascinating things, and knew all kinds of intriguing people.� And more

than that, he was a nice man, and was extremely polite about dividing

his attention.� He never left anyone out, and all three of them felt as

though he enjoyed being with them.� But when they walked back to the

cabin afterward, and he accompanied them, he walked along beside Mary

Stuart.� And he spoke to her in a gentle voice that seemed meant for

her ears and no others.� Tanya and Zoe went inside when they arrived at

their cabin, and Mary Stuart stayed outside with Hartley for a while.

She wasn't sure how to bring it up, but she thought the others had made

a good point that afternoon about telling him that she was married.

"I feel a little foolish saying this to you," she explained, as they

sat peacefully beneath a nearly full moon that shone blue on the snow

atop the glaciers.� "And I have no idea if it means anything to you,

but I just didn't want to mislead you.� I'm married," she said, and was

startled to see a look of disappointment in his eyes.� "My husband is

working in London for the summer.� I realized that what I may have said

to you might have given you a different impression.� To be honest with

you," and she always was with everyone, "I'm planning to leave him at

the end of the summer.� I needed some time to decide what to do, but

our marriage died with our son, and now I think it's time to move on,

put us both out of our misery, and end it."

"Will your husband be surprised?"� Hartley asked quietly.� He was

looking at her very intently.� He barely knew her, and yet he liked her

honesty, her kindness, and her directness.� But he was sorry to hear

she was still married.� Perhaps, in the long run, it didn't make any

difference.� She sounded pretty definite about it being over with her

husband.� "Do you think your husband is aware of what you're

feeling?"

"I don't see how he couldn't be.� He's barely spoken to me for a

year.

We have no marriage, no life, no friendship.� He blames me for our

son's death, and I don't think anything will ever change that.� I can't

live like that anymore.� I don't mean to tell you my problems, but I

just wanted you to know that I am actually still married for the

moment, although I don't think I will be for too much longer."

"Thank you for being honest with me," he smiled.� It was incredible

even to him how much he liked her.� She was the first woman he had

really liked since Margaret died, and after only one day, he was crazy

about her.� But everything here was in triple time.� It was very much

like being on shipboard.

"I hope you don't think I'm crazy for bringing it up, I just don't want

to mislead you.� I'm sure it doesn't make any difference to you .� .

.

it's just .� .."� She was suddenly mortified to have told him any of

it, and she was stumbling over her words.� What difference could it

possibly make to him that she was married?� She was suddenly furious

with the other two for influencing her, and she felt really stupid.

But as she sat there uncomfortably, he looked at her and he was

smiling.

"I have no idea what I'm doing here, Mary Stuart.� I wasn't even going

to come here this year.� I've been feeling sorry for myself for two

years, and I haven't looked at another woman.� And now suddenly here

you are, like a bright ray of sunshine on the mountains, and all I can

tell you is that I've never been so bowled over by anyone before.� I

have no idea what this will be, or what you want, or even what I do, or

if you'd even be interested in me, but I just want you to know that I

barely know you, but I care very much about you.� I hate the fact that

you lost your son," he said, as he gently put an arm around her, and he

pulled her slowly against his shoulder.� "I hated the look in your eyes

when you saw that little boy this afternoon, and I wanted to take all

that hurt away from you.� And actually, although I can't believe I'm

saying this, I don't like the fact that you're not divorced, but I'm

not even sure that that's important.� I have no idea if you'll ever

want to see me again after next week, and I'm probably making a

terrible fool of myself, and if I am, tell me, and I won't do more than

tip my hat at you for the rest of the trip."� His eyes were searching

hers in the moonlight and hers were full of tears.� They were all the

things she had wanted Bill to say and he never had.� He had completely

abandoned her, and suddenly there was this stranger, answering all her

prayers.� "I just want to be with you, and talk to you, and learn about

you .� . . and then let's see what happens."� What more could one

ask?

She sat looking at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Am I dreaming this?"� she asked, looking at him with eyes full of

tears and wishes.� Was it possible to find someone like him?

"That's how I felt all afternoon today.� Let's not look for any answers

quite so soon.� Let's just enjoy it," he said, feeling her hair brush

his cheek, he closed his eyes, breathing in her perfume.

He didn't say another word, he just sat there, holding her for a long

time, until he felt her begin to tremble.� It was only partly from the

chill, the rest was pure emotion.� She had only arrived the day before,

and seen him for the first time that morning.� But she had read

everything he'd ever written, and almost felt she knew him, and they

had talked for hours and bared their souls, and they shared a powerful

attraction.

"You're cold, I'll take you in," he said, wishing he didn't have to

leave her.� She stopped and looked up at him, and once again he put his

arm around her.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered, feeling him close to her,

and then he walked her to the door and left her there.� She slipped

inside, hoping the others had gone to bed, and she was grateful to find

they had.� But when she went into her own room she found a fax on her

bed, from Bill.� It was painfully simple.

"Hope all goes well.� Work is satisfactory here in London.� Best

regards to your friend.� Bill."� That was it.� And at the bottom, in

her lacy handwriting, Tanya had scrawled across the page, "If I were

you, I'd call my lawyer."� It was certainly dry, and suddenly life was

giving her a brand-new opportunity.� A door was closing behind her, but

another, just ahead, was beginning to open.� And through it, she could

finally see sunlight on the mountains.

The next morning, Zoe and Mary Stuart dragged Tanya out of bed

together.

"Rise and shine!"� Zoe said, as Mary Stuart pulled the covers off and

took Tanya's mask off.

"You're both sadists!"� Tanya groaned, squinting in the sunlight.� "My

God, what is that .� . . I'm going blind."� She rolled over on her

stomach and refused to move as the other two pulled her off the bed

just as they had in college.

"It's called sunshine, and there's lots of it outside," Mary Stuart

said, as Tanya sat slowly upright in pink shorty pajamas.� "If I didn't

know you better I'd think you were a drunk, the way you wake up in the

morning."

"It's just old age.� I need a lot of sleep," she said, staggering

slowly to the bathroom.

"Well, Big Max is waiting," Zoe added.

"Tell him to go back to sleep, he'll feel a lot better," she said,

yawning, but twenty minutes later she was dressed and showered, and she

looked as spectacular as she did every morning.� She was wearing pale

pink jeans and a pale pink T-shirt, her old yellow boots, and a pink

bandanna.� Her hair was down her back in a long braid, and there were

soft tendrils around her face that made her look incredibly sexy.

"That ought to catch your wrangler's attention," Mary Stuart said, when

she saw Tanya's outfit.� She looked better than ever.� "It's a shame

you're so ugly."� Mary Stuart smiled at her, suddenly anxious to see

Hartley.� She had thought about him all night, and she felt like a kid

waiting to see him that morning.� For the moment, they were just

friends, but the undercurrent of something more intrigued her.

They were on their way to the dining room, when Benjamin crossed their

path again, and Mary Stuart looked as though she'd seen a ghost as he

walked beside them.� He wanted to stand next to her, and it was almost

eerie the way he wanted to be near her.

"Where's your mom, Benjamin?"� Zoe asked, sensing Mary Stuart's

discomfort.� It was easy to see why.� Although she had never seen Todd,

the child actually looked like Mary Stuart.

"She's sleeping," he said matter-of factly.� "My dad told me to go get

breakfast."

"How come she gets to sleep and I don't?"� Tanya complained.

"She's eight months pregnant," Zoe explained to her.

"I'm going to look like a hag by the time we leave if you guys don't

let me get some sleep.� It's not good for your health to wake up this

early."

"Who said that?"� Zoe grinned.

"I did."� Tanya glared at her as they stepped into the main building,

and the three of them strode across the dining room a moment later,

with Benjamin right behind them.� He was sticking to them like glue,

and Mary Stuart was determined to ignore him.� But when they sat down

at the table they'd used the day before, he sat right down with them.

Tanya was amused by him, and Zoe liked him too, but neither of them I

wanted to upset Mary Stuart.� They tried to suggest he go sit with his

friends, but he absolutely didn't want to.

"It's okay," Mary Stuart said to them finally.� "Don't make a big issue

of it."

"Are you okay?"� Tanya asked her pointedly, and Mary Stuart nodded.

"I'm all right."� You couldn't protect yourself to that extent.� No

matter how much it hurt to see him sitting there, you couldn't create a

world without children.

"Nice fax from your husband last night, by the way," Tanya commented as

she drank her orange juice.� "\lery warm and emotional and loving.

Nice guy," she said, and Mary Stuart smiled.� "Sorry I read it, but I

couldn't help it.� Are you going to answer?"

"There's not much to say."� And then she thought of something.� The

night before had been almost dreamlike, and she was beginning to wonder

if it had ever happened, sitting there with Hartley's arms around her,

holding her close, and him telling her he wanted to get to know her.

"By the way, I clarified things with Hartley last night, about my

husband.� You were right, I think he did misunderstand what I said.

But now he's clear."

"Did he care?"

She tried to sound cool about it, but the others didn't believe her.

"Why would he?"

"Because I don't think he's interested in offering you a secretarial

position," Tanya explained as though she were retarded.� "The guy likes

you."

"We'll see what happens," Mary Stuart said calmly, and couldn't help

noticing Benjamin in his red cowboy hat staring at her.

"You look kind of like my mom," he said, looking at her, "and my Aunt

Mary."

"My name is Mary too," she said to make conversation, "Mary Stuart.

That's kind of weird, isn't it?� Stuart was my daddy's name, and he

wanted me to be a boy, so that's what they named me."

"Oh," he said, nodding.� And then, "Do you have any children?"� He was

far more interested in her than the others, it was as though he sensed

something different about her.

"Yes, I have a daughter, but she's very big now.� She's twenty."

"Do you have boys too?"� he asked, murlching on a danish Zoe gave

him.

"No, I don't," Mary Stuart answered, and the child was too young to

understand the tears in her eyes as she said it.

"I like boys better," he said matter-of-factly.� "I hope my mom doesn't

have a girl whell the baby comes.� I don't like girls.� They're

stupid."

"Some of them are okay," Mary Stuart explained, and he shrugged,

unconvinced in his prejudice about females.

"They cry too much when you push them," he said, by way of an

explanation, and Zoe and Tanya exchanged a smile as they listened.

Maybe it was good for her to have to talk to him, they wondered

silently.

like kind of a vaccination.

"Some girls are pretty brave," Mary Stuart said in defense of her sex,

but he lost interest in the subject and ate a piece of bacon, and a

little while later he wandered off again when he saw his father.� His

mother came into the dining room a little while later too, and Mary

Stuart noticed that she was hugely pregnant.� Her husband had explained

to Zoe earlier that the altitude was making her feel wretched.

"I hope you don't wind up delivering a baby," Mary Stuart said in an

undertone.� "She looks like she's having triplets."

"God, no.� There's a hospital here.� I don't carry forceps with me.

And I haven't delivered a baby since I was an intern.� It scared the

hell out of me.� Delivering habies is a lot scarier thall what I do.

Too much can go wrong, too many split-secon(l decisions, too many

elements you can't contlol, and I hate dealing with people in that much

pain.� I'd ratheldo dermatology than obstetrics," Zoe said with

feeling.� Mary Stuart said she thought it would be fun, and a really

cheerful job, since most of the time it had a happy outcome.� Tanya

said then that she wondered what it was like having a baby.� She had

wanted lots of them when she was young, but as her life had unfolded,

the opportunity had never happened.

And it intrigued Mary Stuart to realize that of all of them, she was

the only one who had ever borne children.

"Maybe it was something subliminal they told us at Berkeley," Zoe said,

smiling at them.� She was happy she had adopted.

"I would have loved to have kids," Tanya said, "I loved having Tony's

kids around, they were great children."� She wondered if she'd ever see

them again, for more than a few minutes.� It was all so unkind, losing

them, losing him, and when all was said and done, he could just take

them and leave her.� It made her think that somewhere along the way she

should have had her own kids, then no one could have taken them away,

and she'd have had them forever, or maybe not, she realized, as she

thought of Mary Stuart.

They finished breakfast just in time, and hurried down to the corral.

Hartley was already down there, and he looked pleased to see Mary

Stuart.� Their eyes met and held for a long time, and he stood very

close to her as they waited to mount their horses.� The doctors from

Chicago were back again, and the same groups formed as the day

before.

Zoe rode with them, and Hartley rode alongside Mary Stuart, which left

Tanya and the wrangler to ride ahead again, and this time he tried to

make more of an effort.

"You look very nice today," he said, looking straight ahead, and

sounding like a robot, and she could see there was a faint flush on his

cheekbones as he said it.� He was really embarrassed, and she tried to

put him at ease as they rode along, but it took a while to do it.

After a while, he asked her a few questions about Hollywood, the people

she'd met.� He asked if she'd ever met Tom Cruise or Kevin Costner or

Cher, and he told her he'd seen Harrison Ford "Jackson Hole that

summer.� She said she'd met them all, and she and Cher had been in a

movie together.

"It's funny," he said, looking at her with narrowed eyes, "looking at

you, you don't look like that kind of person."

"What does that mean?"� He confused her.

"I mean, you're like someone real, not like some movie star or big

singer or something.� You're just like a regular woman.� You ride, you

talk a lot, you laugh, you've got a pretty good sense of humor."� He

glanced over at her with the beginnings of a smile, and this time

without blushing.� "It's hard to remember after a while that you're the

one on the CD's and in the movies."

"If that's a compliment, thank you.� If you're telling me I'm a

disappointment to you, that's okay too.� The bottom line is I'm just a

girl from Texas."� She was smiling at him, as he admired the pink

T-shirt.

"No."� He shook his head, glancing at her appraisingly with wise

eyes.

There was a lot more to Gordon than met the eye on first impression.

"There's a lot more to you than that.� And you know that.� It's just

that you're not phony, the way they are."

"The way who is?"

"Other movie stars I've met.� They don't even ride when they come

here.

We've had them all.� Politicians, movie stars, even a couple of

singers.

They just show off a lot, and expect a whole lot of special

treatment."

"I asked for a lot of towels, and a coffeepot," she confessed, and he

laughed.� "Besides, I put on the card that I hate horses."

"I don't believe you," he said, looking more relaxed with her than he

had the previous morning.� He had hardly dared to speak to her for most

of the day before.� This was a lot better.� While he chatted with her,

he was fun to ride with.� "You're from Texas," he said approvingly.� It

said something about her, as far as he was concerned.� People from

Texas didn't hate horses.� "And you're just a regular woman."� The

funny thing was that she was just that, and he knew it.� It was what

she had been with Bobby Joe, and Hollywood had screwed it all up, and

it was what she had tried to be with Tony.� But Tony had wanted a movie

star, with none of the problems that went with it.� He wanted something

that, even with the best of intentions, she just couldn't give him.

"I am a regular woman, but the world I live in doesn't give me much

chance to be.� I don't have much of a life, to tell you the truth, and

I never will now.� I hate that, but that's the way it is.� The press

will never let me have a real life.� And even the people who meet me

won't.

They want you to be what they think you are, and then when they get

close to you, they want to hurt you."� Even talking about it, it

sounded crazy.

"It sounds awful," he said, watching her with interest.� He was

surprised at how much he liked her.� He hadn't wanted to, but she was

completely different than he'd expected.� He had done everything he

could not to be her wrangler, and now he was glad Liz hadn't listened

to him.

She was actually pleasant to be with.

"It is awful," she said quietly.� "Sometimes I think it'll kill me.

Maybe it will one day, or a fan will."� She said it so sadly that he

shook his head as he listened.

"How can you live like that?� I don't care what they pay you, it's not

worth it," he said, as their horses began loping.

"It's not the money.� Not entirely.� It's what I do.� That's my life.

I sing.� You can't go backward, you can't hide.� If I want to do what I

do, then I have to put up with all that."

"It doesn't seem right."

"It's not, but that's reality."� She didn't like it, but she knew there

was nothing she could do to change it.� "Other people hold all the

trump cards."

"There's got to be some way to change it, or to live with it, to give

yourself a decent life.� Other movie stars get away from it, they buy

ranches and go places where they can live decent.� You ought to do

that, Miss Tanya."� He really meant it, and she smiled at him, as their

horses slowed down again, and Gordon watched her with admiration.� She

was a great rider.

"Don't call me that," she scolded him when he called her Miss Tanya,

"just Tanya is fine."� They were almost friends now, enough so to talk

about her life.� It was like what Mary Stuart had experienced with

Hartley.� One found oneself talking about the oddest things here.

One's hopes and one's dreams, and one's disappointments.� It was as

though the mountains did something strange and put everything into fast

forward.

Hartley was talking seriously to Mary Stuart too, and polo gizing if

he had overstepped his bounds the night before.� When he got back to

his cabin, he had been afraid that he might have frightened her by

being too forward.� They had only just met, and yet he felt so close to

her, but she had felt exactly the same thing, and rather than being

frightened, she had derived great comfort from it.� No one had put

their arms around her in a year and she was starving for it.� She

didn't say exactly that to him, but he understood very clearly as they

rode along that she hadn't in any way been offended by his behavior,

far from it.� And it was a great relief to him, as their horses stopped

for a moment and took a drink from a little stream, as he looked at

her, and she was smiling.� It was magical just being there, and they

both felt it.

"All I could think about this morning when I got up was seeing you," he

said, with a boyish grin.� "I haven't felt that way in years.� I don't

even feel like working.� And for me that's rare, believe me."� He wrote

daily, no matter where he was or how he felt, or what the conditions of

his life were.� The only time he hadn't written was when Margaret was

dying.� He had found then that he just couldn't.

"I know exactly how you feel.� It's funny how just when you think your

life is over, it all begins again.� Life always fools you, doesn't

it?

When you think you have it all, you lose everything, and when you think

all is lost, you find something infinitely precious," Mary Stuart said

thoughtfully, looking at the mountains.

"I'm afraid that God has quite a sense of humor," he said l as their

horses started walking again, and she smiled at him.� "What do you like

to do in New York?"� he asked, still wanting to know everything about

her.� First he wanted to know, and then he wanted the chance to do it

with her.� He was excited to know she was going back to New York after

spending a week in L.A. with Tanya.� He had business to attend to in

Seattle when he left the ranch, and he had to spend a few days in

Boston, but then he was going back to New York around the same time she

was.� "Do you like the theater?"� he inquired, and they talked about it

for a long time.� He had a number of friends who were playwrights, and

he wanted to introduce her to them, to all his friends in fact.� There

was so much that he wanted to tell her and show her and ask her.� It

was impossible to stand still.� The two of them talked constantly, and

laughed, and shared ideas, and they were both surprised when they wound

up back at the corral at lunch time.� They hadn't even been looking

where they were walking.� Tanya and Gordon were well ahead of them, and

the doctors were bringing up the rear very slowly.� And Mary Stuart was

just dismounting when a horse suddenly came racing past them.� There

was a small figure clinging to it, and Gordon had spotted it before

they did.

The horse was shooting right through the corral on the way to the barn,

and he instantly broke into a gallop trying to stop it, but before he

could reach it a small form flew through the air, and landed with a

hard thump on the rocky roadside.� At first they couldn't see what it

was, it was a bit of something, but Mary Stuart knew less by sight than

by instinct.� It was as though she felt it almost before she saw it.

And then the others saw too.� The little red cowboy hat lay beside the

small heap that was Benjamin.� His horse had run away with him.� And

without thinking, Mary Stuart jumped to the ground and ran to him, with

Hartley just behind her, but when she reached the child, he seemed

lifeless.� He was unconscious, and when she bent her cheek to his lips,

he was barely breathing.� And she looked behind her in terror at

Hartley.

"Get Zoe!"� she shouted at him, and turned to the child again, afraid

to move him for fear his neck or his back might be broken.

She was sure he stopped breathing then, but before she could determine

it, Zoe was on her knees beside her.

"It's okay, Mary Stuart .� . . I've got him."� There was very little

she could do, and like her friend, she was careful not to move him.

She tapped him gently on the chest and he began breathing again, and

then she lifted his eyelids.� He saw nothing, and there was a large wet

spot on the front of his jeans, which meant he was deep in

unconsciousness and had lost control of his bodily functions.� "Do you

have 911 here?"

Zoe said loudly to the wrangler, and he nodded.� "Call them.� Tell them

we have an unconscious child, head injury and possible fractures.� He's

still breathing, but his heartbeat is irregular.� He's in shock.� Get

them here as fast as you can."� She looked at him to be sure he

understood how pressing it was, and the other two doctors hurried over,

having just left their horses.� Zoe was still touching him and watching

him closely, and Mary Stuart knelt next to the child, holding his hand

in her own, although she knew it meant nothing.� But she didn't want to

let go of him, in case somehow he could feel it.� Zoe was continuing to

examine him and she looked worried.� She was sure his neck wasn't

broken, nor his spine, and she was feeling his limbs, when his eyes

fluttered open and he started crying.

"Oww!!!"� He started to scream, "I want my mommy .� .."� He was

sobbing and taking in big gulps of air, and Zoe looked happier as she

watched him.

"I like that," she said, still checking him all over, and the other two

physicians nodded, and as she touched his left arm, he let out a

scream.

It was broken.� But there could have been worse things.� And then as he

cried, he looked up and saw Mary Stuart, she was still holding his

little hand in her own and crying softly.

"Why you cryin'?"� he asked, hiccuping on his tears.� "Did you fall off

the horse too?"

"No, you silly goof," she said, coming closer to him, "you did.� How do

you feel now?" She was trying to distract him from what Zoe was doing,

who was trying to splint the arm with some sticks she asked Gordon to

hand her.� Hartley was hovering near too, and Tanya was watching,

looking shaken.� They all were.

"My arm hurts," Benjamin wailed, and Mary Stuart moved a little closer

to him, trying not to disturb Zoe.� She smoothed down his hair, and if

she closed her eyes, it could have been Todd on the ground beside her,

she wished it were, it would have been so wonderful to only have to

deal with broken limbs or even a head injury.� He was alive, he was

covered with dust, he was crying .� . . but Todd was gone now.

"You're okay, sweetheart," Mary Stuart said softly, as she would have

to her own son.� "They're going to fix you all up, and I'll bet you get

a cast and everyone will sign it and put funny pictures on it."

"Will you?"� He clung to Mary Stuart and ignored the others.� No one

knew why, but maybe it didn't matter.� Maybe he had been sent to touch

her, to remind her of what Todd had once been, or that there were other

children like him.� But what good did it do her .� . . she had lost her

baby .� . .

and yet somehow, this child had touched her.� It was like a visit from

her son, or at least his spirit.� "Will you go to the hospital with

me?"� he asked.

"Sure," she said quietly, "but let's see if we can find your mommy.

I'll bet she'd like to go with you."

"All she cares about is the baby," he said, in tears again, and now he

was pouting as she held his hand and he lay there on the dusty road

waiting for the paramedics to come.� But now she understood it

better.

She looked like his mother, so he was drawn to her, and he was angry at

his own mother about the baby.� Mary Stuart couldn't help wondering if

their paths had crossed so she could help him, or perhaps he had come

to her to help her.� There was obviously a reason for their meeting.

"Benjamin," Mary Stuart said, as she lay on the ground next to him so

she could talk to him better, and by then she was as filthy as he

was.

"I'll bet your mommy loves you better than anyone .� . . babies aren't

really that exciting.� Sure, she'll be happy to have the baby, and so

will you.� But you're special.� You're the first one.� I had a little

boy just like you, and he was my special, special one .� . . always.

Because I loved him first.� Your mommy is never going to love anyone

better than she loves you.� I promise."

"Where did your little boy go?"� He was intrigued by what she was

saying, and he had heard her words very clearly.

She hesitated for only a moment.� "He went to Heaven .� . . and I miss

him a lot .� . . he was very special, just like you are."

"Did he die?"� She hated to say it to him, but she nodded.� "Our dog

died," he said, sharing important information with her, and looking

deep into her eyes, and then suddenly without warning he threw up all

over her.� Zoe wasn't surprised, and told Mary Stuart in an undervoice

that he had a concussion.

"You're okay, Benjamin.� You're okay, sweetheart," Mary Stuart wiped

his face with a towel someone handed her, and she stayed with him, as

they all did, until the ambulance arrived with the paramedics.� He was

actually livelier by then, and Zoe was a little less worried about

him.

He looked a mess, and so did Mary Stuart, but Zoe was almost sure that

he had escaped with a concussion and a broken arm, and a few bumps and

bruises.� He had actually been very lucky.� And just as the ambulance

arrived, his mother came lumbering down from the cabins as fast as she

could.� Gordon had sent someone to get her.� And she burst into tears

the moment she saw him, but Tanya and Hartley and the two doctors were

quick to reassure her, and Zoe told her that she thought the damage was

fairly minimal considering how fast the horse had been going, and how

hard he had fallen, and he hadn't been wearing a helmet.

"Oh, Benjie," she sat down on the ground next to him, and burst into

tears as she held him.� "I love you so much."� She was completely

undone as she looked at all of them and thanked them, and M!ary Stuart

looked down at him, smiling as she cried, wanting to remind him of what

she had told him, that his mom would never love anyone better.� She had

never loved anyone more than she loved Todd.� She loved her daughter

passionately, and had from the moment she was born, but she had never

loved her more or less than her first baby.

She touched his hand as they put him in the ambulance, and then bent

down and kissed his cheek, and it tore at her heart again as she

remembered the sweet smell of childhood.� Even with the vomit and the

dirt and the horses, he smelled like a little boy to her, it was just a

step beyond the smell of a baby.� "I love you, little guy," she

whispered to him.� It was just like saying it to Todd again and it

almost killed her, except that it felt good too.� It was as though this

child had come to her to open the floodgates of her feelings.� "I'll

see you soon," she said, and his mother cried and thanked her again,

and then they were gone, and Mary Stuart stood there crying and she

didn't know what happened but she suddenly felt a powerful pair of arms

around her.� She knew who it was, and she turned to him and he pulled

her close to him and she couldn't stop crying as he held her.

"I'm so sorry .� . . I'm so sorry .� .."� She didn't even know him,

and she was covered with dirt and the little child's vomit, but he

didn't care, he just wanted to be there.

"Oh, poor baby .� . . I'm so sorry .� . . I wish I had been there for

you."� She looked up at him then and smiled through her tears,

wondering how she had suddenly been so lucky.� Maybe God thought she

had paid enough for once, or maybe it was just blind luck, or maybe she

was dreaming.

"He looks so much like my son," she tried to explain it to him, but she

didn't have to.� The woman with the enormous belly looked so much like

Mary Stuart, she could have been her younger sister, it was easy to see

the resemblance.

"What a terrible time you've had," he said as the others left them

alone, and they sat down on a log for a few minutes so she could regain

her composure.� But just being with him she felt better.� Maybe because

he hadn't had an easy time either.� His wife had died an agonizing

death and he had been with her every moment.� But she had made her

peace with it finally, and he had been willing to let her go.� The

doctor said he had to do it, to set her free spiritually so she could

die in peace.� And she had died in his arms on Christmas morning.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess.� He did something to me .� . . he just

reached out and touched my heart.� I don't know why that happened."

"Some things just happen," he said gently, as he wondered how her son

had died, but he didn't want to ask her.� And she could sense what he

was thinking.

"My son committed suicide," she said as though he had asked her a

question, but he hadn't.� And she had never said it before to anyone

except Zoe.� She had never had to.� And no one had ever asked her.� "He

was at Princeton."� She told him about it then, and what it had been

like, the shock, the agony of it, the funeral, her husband's reaction,

all of it.� It was a terrible story.

"What a nightmarish experience for all of you.� It's a wonder any of

you survived it," he said with admiration.

"We didn't.� My husband's a zombie, our marriage died a year ago.� And

I think my daughter would be just as happy if she never had to come

home again, and I'm not sure I blame her.� I just want to get out of

there now, to put it behind me."

"Are you sure?"� he asked cautiously, wondering now that he had heard

the story.� They were all in shock.� But what if they came out of it?

She and her husband had a long history together.

"I think I'm sure," she said honestly.� "I wanted the summer to think

about it," and then she smiled, "I never expected anything like this to

happen."� And she still didn't know what had, or if anything would come

of it.� Maybe she'd never see him again after two weeks at the ranch.

That was a possibility too.� She wasn't leaving Bill for him.� She was

doing it because she had to.� "I just need to walk carefully here.� I

want to do the right thing, for all of us, and I think I know what that

is now."

Hartley nodded, and said nothing, he just held her, and a little while

later, he walked her back to her cabin.� Zoe and Tanya were having a

cup of coffee, and Hartley joined them while Mary Stuart went to take a

quick shower.� They had jUSt heard the lunch bell.� And eventually the

two women decided to go up to the dining room and get their table.

They left Hartley to wait for Mary Stuart.� But they were all somewhat

sobered by the morning.� And Mary Stuart was surprised when she came

out of her bedroom, to find that her two friends had gone, and Hartley

was still waiting.� She thanked him for waiting for her, and he looked

at her gently, and she was suddenly worried about him.� He had been

through a lot too, and he was being very generous with her.� She had no

right to hurt him by what she was doing.

"I don't want to do anything that will hurt you," she said as she

walked slowly toward him.� She'd been thinking about it all morning.

She was so attracted to him, but she didn't want to be selfish.� She

hadn't completely resolved the issue of Bill in her head yet, although

she thought she was fairly sure of what she wanted to do now.� But she

still needed a little time before she told him.� "You've been so good

to me, and I barely know you.� You've been kinder than anyone in my

life, Hartley, except Tanya."

"Thank you," he said, and sat down on the arm of the couch as he

watched her.� She was wearing a red T-shirt and jeans, and she made his

heart race.� "I'm a grown man, Mary Stuart.� Don't worry about me.

We've both been through a lot, I don't want either one of us to get

hurt.� But I understand what the risks are.� Let me do this.� I want to

be here with you t' She couldn't believe what she was hearing.� He

wanted to take a chance on her, to see if she left Bill, to wait and

see what happened.

And then, without saying another word to her, he took two steps toward

her and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.� She smelled of

perfilme and soap and toothpaste, everything clean and appealing, and

he ran his hands through her hair as he held her.� He hadn't kissed a

woman in so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like, and neither

of them were old enough to give up all they once had.� They were like

two people who had swum the English Channel and had finally crawled up

on shore together, they were cold, they were tired, they were starving,

but they were so grateful to have survived, and to be together.� He

smiled down into her eyes and then kissed her on the lips again, and

she had never known a touch as tender.� She suspected, without even

wanting to, that he would be an incredible lover.� She had no idea

where this would go, and neither did he, but for the moment, they were

here, in Wyoming, together, and it was all they needed.

On their third day in Wyoming, Zoe lay in bed and stretched sleepily.

It was not quite seven o'clock and she was going to get up in a few

minutes.� She could hear someone stirring in the kitchen.� Mary Stuart

had just gotten up, and she was yawning as she started to go to the

kitchen to make a pot of coffee, and she almost jumped a foot when she

ran into Tanya.

"What are you doing here?"� Mary Stuart said in amazement.� She had

never gotten up at that hour in her life, not even in college.

"Last time I looked, I live here!"� She had made coffee, and muffins,

and taken a yogurt out of the fridge, and she looked as though she'd

already brushed her teeth and washed her face, and when Zoe came out of

her room, she couldn't believe it either.

"Is something wrong?"� Zoe looked worried when she saw them.� Maybe

there was a problem of some kind.� There had to be a real emergency to

get Tanya out of bed at that hour, and she couldn't believe it when she

found out there wasn't.

"Oh, for God's sake, what is it with you two?� I just wanted to get an

early start."� But they weren't buying her explanations.

"I know what it is," Zoe said with a broad grin.� It was her turn

now.

Tanya had pressed Zoe about Sam and Mary Stuart about Hartley.� "It's

Gordon."

"Don't be stupid," Tanya said, "he's a wrangler."

"What difference does that make?"� Zoe said matter-offactly.� "He looks

at you like you walk on water."

"Oh, bullshit," Tanya said as she bustled around the tiny kitchen, but

there was more truth to it than they knew.� The previous afternoon,

they had talked of many things while they were riding.� Little

Benjamin's accident had shaken all of them and turned the mood

serious.

Gordon had talked about his son.� He was grown now and Gordon hadn't

seen him in two years, but he was obviously fond of him.� Tanya spoke

of her failed marriage to Bobby Joe, she considered it her only real

one, and still regretted that it hadn't held up to the rigors of her

career, although she admitted that by now she would probably have

outgrown him, but now and then she still missed him.� And now that she

was alone again, she wondered what it was all about.� What was she

going to end up with?� A bunch of gold records, a pile of money, a big

house?� She had no husband, no kids, no one to take care of her when

she got old, no one to be with, and share her victories and defeats

with.� It all seemed so pointless, and the place she had reached in her

life seemed so empty.� It was what everyone in Hollywood wanted, and

the truth was it meant nothing to her.

It had been serious stuff to share with him, but he had made a lot of

sense, and been very comforting to her.� He was smart and practical and

down-to-earth, and so was she, and in an odd way they had a lot in

common.� He would have liked to talk to her some more, but they had to

go back to the corral, and the wranglers were only allowed to eat with

the guests on Sunday, unless they had a day off, which Gordon did.� But

Tanya liked talking to him.� There were many things she liked about

him.� And she didn't mind his simplicity or his occasional roughness.

He was never unkind, or thoughtless, there was nothing greedy or cruel

about him, and he was very intelligent.� She even liked the fact that

they were fellow Texans, but she didn't feel ready to tell the

others.

"Are you keeping secrets from us?"� Zoe teased her, and Mary Stuart

laughed at her too.� But Tanya just ignored them and went to finish

dressing.� She looked particularly spectacular that day in a pair of

bleached jeans, and a peach colored T-shirt.� She was even wearing a

new pair of boots, a pair of apricot hand-embroidered ones that she had

bought a while before in Texas.

And when they went to the dining room for breakfast with the other

guests, Hartley was waiting for them.� He looked very cheerful, and

very comfortable as he put an arm around Mary Stuart, and said a warm

hello to the others.� He smelled of soap and aftershave, and looked

very handsome in a white shirt and blue jeans, and Tanya couldn't help

thinking that he and Mary Stuart looked terrific together.� They looked

as though they were meant to be, and Zoe agreed with her, as she

commented on it later, on the way to the stables.

Little Benjamin was waiting for them there, and hasing everyone sign

his cast.� Tanya gave him a big kiss and an autograph, and a bunch of

young girls asked her for one too, and their mothers let them.� People

were more relaxed about seeing her around, but no one was taking sneaky

pictures of her, which she appreciated.� And when Gordon saw her, he

waved, he was saddling up a bunch of horses.� As always they were among

the last to ride, and Mary Stuart sat on a bench wilh Benjamin on her

lap, nuzzling his neck, and talking to him.� He was like a gift now.

"You sure scared us yesterday, you wild guy you," she said, remembering

the sight of him flying toward the stables on the runaway horse and

then sailing into the air, and onto the rocky roadway.

"The doctor said I should have broken my neck, but I didn t. " "Well,

that's lucky."

"Yeah, and my mommy cried."� He looked at Mary Stuart seriously then.

"You were right.� She says she's never gonna love the baby like she

loves me.� I told her you said so."

"Good."

"She said I'd always be special."� And then he brought tears to her

eyes again with a gesture that hit her like a fist to the solar

plexus.

"I'm sorry about your little boy," he said as kissed her.

"Me too," she said, as her eyes filled with tears and her lips

trembled, and Hartley watched her.� "I still love him very, very much,"

she said, barely able to speak.� "He's still very special."

"Can you see him sometimes?"� he asked, puzzled by death.� They were

the kind of questions Todd would have asked her at his age, and she

would have tried to answer, but she was honest with him.

"No, I can't.� Not anymore.� Just in my heart.� I see him there all the

time.� And in pictures."

"What's his name?"

"Todd."� Benjie nodded, as though that were sufficient introduction.

And then a little while later he got off her lap and went to look at

the horses, and then back up to their cabin to his mother.� He seemed

satisfied with his visit, and then Mary Stuart and Tanya and the others

went out with Gordon.� Hartley was looking at Mary Stuart, and she

smiled.� Dealing with Benjamin was still painful.� He was so direct

with her, but maybe it was healthy for her.� It certainly wasn't easy,

and Hartley gave her a quick squeeze before she got on her horse and

told her she was terrific.

"I don't know what I ever did to get so lucky," she answered.

"Clean living," he teased her.� And they had a nice ride that

morning.

Zoe was looking tired, so she took it easy, and the doctors had gone

for a rafting trip in Yellowstone, so she rode along with Hartley and

Mary Stuart.� And Gordon and Tanya rode on ahead, and he invited her to

the rodeo that night.� He was in it.

"Are you kidding?� What events do you ride in?"

He looked sheepish for a minute.� "Bulls and broncs.� I've done it

since Texas."

"Are you crazy?"� She'd been to those rodeos as a kid.� The guys got

stomped on and dragged around, half of them were brain damaged before

they were thirty, the others had so many broken bones, they walked like

old men even though they were in their twenties.� "That is a really

dumb thing to do," she said, looking angry.� "You're a smart guy, why

risk your life for a couple of hundred dollars, or a silver buckle?"

He had ten of them at home, but so what, if he wound up crippled?

"They're just like your platinum records," he said quietly, not

surprised at her reaction.� His mother said the same thing, and so did

his sisters.� Women just didn't get it.� "Like what you have to go

through to get a gold record, or an Oscar.� Look at the torture they

put you through, rehearsals, threats, bad managers, tabloids.� It's a

lot easier riding a bronc for ninety seconds."

"Yeah, but I don't get dragged around on my head in horse shit until

I'm brain dead.� Gordon, I disapprove of this," she said sternly, and

he looked disappointed.� Maybe she was a big-city girl after all, and

not a Texan.

"Does that mean you won't come tonight?"� He looked crushed, and she

shook her head, but she was smiling.

"Of course I will.� But I still think you're crazy."� He grinned at her

then and lit a cigarette.� "What are you riding tonight?"

"Saddle broncs.� That's easy."

"Show-off."� She was excited about it.� She loved rodeos, and she'd

been planning to go anyway.� He invited her to come see him at the

pens, and she said she would if she could find him.� It wasn't always

easy for her to get around either.� If people recognized her, it would

restrict her movements, and she might even have to leave if people

really surrounded her.� She never went to public events like that

without a bodyguard, but she didn't want to this time.

She was just going to go in her bus, with Tom, and Zoe and Mary

Stuart.

And Hartley, if he wanted to join them.� But Tanya could hardly wait to

see it.� And she had just the outfit for it.

She was like a kid going to the fair when they got dressed that night

before dinner.� She came out of her room wearirg soft beige suede jeans

with fringe down the side, and a matching beige suede shirt with the

same fringe and a suede neck scarf.� And she had a cowboy hat exactly

the same color.� It looked very Western, but she had bought it all in

Paris, and the suede was so soft it felt like velvet on her body.

"Wow!� You Texans!"� Mary Stuart complained.� She had worn

emerald-green blue jeans and a matching sweater, with black alligator

boots from Billy Martin's.� And Zoe was wearing stretch jeans with a

Ralph Lauren military jacket.� As usual, they were the best-looking

group in the place, and Hartley had started calling them "Hartley's

Angels," which amused them.

It was a lively dinner that night, and Benjamin was running all over

the dining room while his mother was threatening to go into labor.� She

said it had been a traumatic week and she couldn't wait to get home to

Kansas City that weekend, and Mary Stuart couldn't blame her.� It was

not the kind of week you would have wanted to have while eight months

pregnant, but Mary Stuart was happy she'd met Benjie.� He made her sign

his cast for a second time, and right after dinner, they went out to

Tanya's bus and left for Jackson Hole with Hartley.� He had agreed to

join them at the rodeo, and he was enthralled by the bus as they drove

there.

He loved it.

"I can't believe this," he said, amused by all of it.� "And I thought I

was hot stuff with a Jaguar."

"I drive a ten-year-old Volkswagen van," Zoe confided to him, and he

laughed.� But it was for a good cause in her case, 'h every penny she

had she put into the clinic to buy medicine and equipment "I'm afraid

the literary world can't compete with Hollywood," he said

apologetically.� "You beat us hands down, Tanya."

"Yeah, but look at the shit we have to put up with.� You people work

like gentlemen.� The people I deal with are savages, so I deserve

this."

She justified it and they all laughed, but no one begrudged it to her,

not even Hartley.� She worked hard for her money.

And in the comfortable bus, the time passed quickly on the way

into Jackson Hole from Moose, and half an hour later they were at the

rodeo, and they were nearly half an hour early.� The ranch had gotten

them great tickets.� And it all had a familiar smell and feel to it

that reminded Tanya of her childhood.� It was just the way Tanya

remembered it when she was a little girl.� She used to ride her pony

over and watch all of it.� And when she was a little older she rode in

it a few times, but her daddy said it was too expensive, and she wasn't

all that crazy about horses.� She just loved the excitement.� It was

like the circus.

They took their seats and bought popcorn and Cokes, just as an official

of the rodeo approached her.� She wondered if there was something

wrong, if they'd had a death threat or a security problem, the man

approaching them looked extremely nervous, and Hartley became instantly

protective and stood in front of her as the man approached them and

asked to speak to Tanya.

"May I ask what this is about?"� Hartley asked politely, sensing some

kind of danger, or imposition at the very least, as she had.

"I'd like to speak to Miz Thomas," he said with an accent Tanya

recognized easily as Texas and not Wyoming.� "We have a favor to ask

her."� He peered over Hartley's shoulder at her and added, "As a fellow

Texan."

Ls "What can I do to help you?"� She stepped forward.� She had decided

he was harmless, though annoying.

"We were wondering if .� .."� He was sweating uncontrollably, he had

been delegated for this task, and he was wishing someone else had done

it.� And her bodyguard really scared him.� He was very well dressed,

and a little awesome.� It was, of course, Hartley, though she had

bought a ticket for Tom too, but she didn't know where he was

sitting.

"Miz Thomas," the man from Texas went on nervously, "I know you

probably don't do this, and we can't pay you anything .� . . but we

wondered .� .

. it would be a real honor .� .."� she wanted to shake him to help him

get the words out, ". . . if you'd sing the anthem for us tonight."

She was so startled she didn't answer for a moment.� She had done that

before, but there was something touching about it.� It was a hard song

to sing, but in a way it would be fun to do it.� Right out in the open,

with the mountains all around them.� It was such a sweet idea that she

smiled at him, and wondered what Gordon would think if she did it.� In

a funny way, she wanted to do it for him, to wish him luck on his

bronco.

"It would be an honor," she said seriously, and meant it.� "Where would

you like me to do it?"

"Would you come with me?"� She hesitated for a moment, always slightly

afraid of the crowd, and what could happen to her, and there was no one

to protect her.� The others looked a little concerned, but no one had

recognized her so far, and it was tempting to just go with him and do

it.

"Do you want me to go with you?"� Hartley asked, he didn't want her to

be in any danger, and he was more than happy to go with her to offer

his protection.

"I think I'll be all right," she said in an undertone to him.� "I'll

stay out in the open, and if you see anything strange happen, or a

crowd closing in, get the security right away, call the police, just

get them out there."� But they might not be fast enough and she knew

that.

"I don't think you should do this," he said conservatively.

"It's a nice thing to do though.� It would mean a lot to them."� And it

was a gift she could give to Gordon.� She wanted to do it for him and

the people of Jackson Hole, Wyoming.� "Don't worry," she said, patted

his arm, glanced at her friends, and followed the perspiring man from

the rodeo down a flight of stairs out of the bleachers and around the

ring.

They were right out in the open and the others could watch her.� What

they were proposing was that she stand on a box in the middle of the

ring with a microphone and sing, or if she preferred, she could do it

on horseback.� It was a scenario she much preferred.� She was a target

either way, but she had more mobility on a horse than on foot, and she

was a good enough rider to get out of any situation if she had a horse

on which to do it.� They were more than happy to have her do it on

horseback, and they offered her a beautiful palomino which matched her

hair and her outfit.� It was more theatrical that way anyway.� She only

hoped she wasn't making herself an easy target for a crazy with a

gun.

It was an awful way to think, but when she did concerts, she had to.

Her agent would have had a nervous breakdown, if he'd known what she

was about to do, with no protection, and for free yet.� But the little

girl from Texas still lived in her.� If she had thought when she was a

child she would sing the anthem at the rodeo one day, she would never

have believed it.� It was something she had never done, and used to

dream of, as a kid from Texas.� And she agreed to do it on horseback.

They explained to her that she'd go on in the next ten minutes.� And as

she looked around, she wondered if she'd see Gordon, but she didn't.

No one seemed to be in the least aware of her presence, or what was

coming.� No one knew she was in the audience, or so she thought,

although the people from the rodeo said that the girl at the ranch

who'd ordered the tickets for her had said who they were for, which

annoyed her a little, but it was hard to control that.� Someone always

said something.� But the crowd at the rodeo was in no way prepared for

the announcement that was made as the rodeo began, nor was Gordon.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the grand marshal said into a mike as he sat in

the ring on a big, black stallion.� "We have a real treat in store for

you this evening.� The Jackson Hole Rodeo welcomes you tonight, and to

thank you for coming here to see our bulls and our broncs and our

cowboys, we have a real nice lady who's going to give you quite a

treat.

She's going to sing our anthem.� She's visiting Jackson Hole, and as he

said it, Tanya prayed he'd have the brains not to say where she was

staying, and the others hoped the same thing as they sat in the

bleachers, but mercifully he didn't.� "And she's pretty familiar with

the rodeo herself.� She's a Texas gal .� . . ladies and gentlemen,"

there was a powerful drumroll from the members of the high school band

who were about to play the anthem, "I give you .� . . Banya Thomas!"

And as he said the words, a cowboy opened the gate, and she galloped

into the ring on the palomino.� She made an incredible sight with her

blond hair flying out behind her.� She was holding the mike in one hand

and the reins in the other, and the horse was livelier than she'd

expected, and she was praying she wouldn't fall off before she got to

sing the anthem.� And according to plan, she galloped once around the

ring, and then walked the horse into the middle, smiling at the crowd

and waving as they screamed and cheered her.� People were on their feet

and unable to believe their good fortune.� And for a fraction of an

instant, she was afraid they would stampede her.� She could almost

smell it brewing.� And she wished she could see Gordon, but she

couldn't.� He was standing far behind her, straddling the bronc pens,

unable to believe what he was seeing, or the crowd's reactions.� He was

surprised that she hadn't warned him, but he watched as the crowd

continued to scream and shout her name, and stamp their feet in

rhythm.

But she was holding up a hand, and they stopped finally so they could

hear her.

"Okay, now .� . . I'm excited to see you too, but this isn't a

concert.

It's a rodeo .� . . and we're going to sing our anthem, so let's settle

down.� It's a real honor for me to be here," she said it with such

feeling that they actually quieted down and really listened.� "This is

a special song for all of us Americans," she said, plucking at their

heartstrings.� "And I want you to think about what it says, and sing it

with me."� She bowed her head for a minute and there was an instant of

silence and then the band began, and they played it better than any

professional orchestra she'd ever heard play it.� They were doing it

just for her, and she sang her heart out for the people of Jackson

Hole, and the tourists, and her friends, and the people of Texas .� .

.

and Gordon.� She sang it mostly for him, and hoped that he knew that.

She knew what the rodeo meant to him, the same thing it had meant to

her as a little girl in Texas.� It was the high point of his existence,

at least it always had been.� But at that moment, the only thing he

could think of was her, and what he was hearing and seeing.� He had

never seen or heard anything more beautiful than Tanya singing the

anthem, and he wished he had it on tape, so he could play it forever.

It brought tears to his eyes, and to almost everyone who heard her.

And they went absolutely insane when she finished.� She gave them one

last wave and galloped out of the ring, before they could leap over the

barricades and mob her.� She was out the gate before they could move,

and had the mike in the hands of the man from the rodeo who kissed her

on the cheek so hard he almost knocked her over, and then she

dismounted and literally disappeared into the crowd, and headed toward

the bronc pens to see if she could find Gordon.� She was shaking with

excitement.

No one actually saw where she went, and she moved so quickly that they

lost track of her in the crowd.� Even Hartley couldn't see her now, and

Mary Stuart and Zoe were worried about her, but she knew exactly where

she was going.� She had hung around rodeos too long not to know how to

find the bronc pens, and within two minutes she saw him, still looking

dazed, astride pen mlmber five.� And as though he sensed her nearby, he

looked down and saw her.� And he clambered down the rails like a monkey

until he stood beside her.� He towered over her, and she was beaming.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?"� He looked hurt

that she hadn't told him, but he was still moved by her singing.

"I didn't know till I got here.� They came and asked me the minute I

sat down."

"You were unbelievable," he said proudly.� He couldn't believe he knew

her.� The last few days had been like a dream for him, and now he was

standing there talking to her, as though he'd always known her.� He was

wearing green-and-silver leather chaps, and handmade boots to match

them, a bright green shirt, and a gray cowboy hat, and silver spurs

that jangled.� "I've never heard anyone sing like that," he said in

amazement, as people jostled around them, but no one seemed to realize

who he was talking to.� They hadn't figured it out yet.

"It's a crazy thing to say," she said, feeling shy suddenly, like a

kid, and she wasn't sure if he should hear it, "but I did it for you.

I thought it might bring you luck .� . . I thought you might like

it...."

His eyes were a caress as he looked at her, but he felt as shy as she

did.� "I don't know what to say to you.� I just don't know, Tanya .

.

."

Tanya .� . . Tanya Thomas .� . . he kept wanting to pinch himself.� Was

this happening to him?� Was she talking to him?� Had he been riding

with her since Monday?� It was crazy.� He was dreaming.

"It was kind of my gift to you .� . . now you give me one too."� He was

terrified of what she would ask of him.� But at that moment, he would

have done just about anything for her.� "You stay safe, that's all I

want.� Take care.� Even if it means no score.� It's not worth it

otherwise, Gordon.� l,life's too important."� She had seen so many

people come and go in her life, so many stupid things happen, so many

people who risked everything for something that meant nothing.� She

didn't want him killing himself for seventy-five bucks on a stupid

bronco.

In some ways, rodeos were like bullfights. �The stakes were just too

high sometimes, and you had to know when to cut your losses.

"I promise," he said, sounding hoarse as their eyes met.� His knees

were turning to water.

"Take care," she said, and touched his arm, and the velvet of her suede

suit brushed past his hand and she literally vanished.� She had seen

people watching them, and before anyone took a picture, or they mobbed

her, she wanted to get back to the bleachers.� It might be impossible

to stay now anyway, now that they knew she was there, but she was dying

to see him ride.� It took her a full five minutes, but she got back to

her seat with no mishap, and her heart was pounding when she got there,

but it was because of Gordon, not the crowd or the performance.� She

had never been as moved by anyone in her life as she was by him, and

she knew it could be dangerous for both of them.� She didn't need

another scandal, and he didn't need his life turned upside down by a

singer who was going to get on her bus and leave town two weeks

later.

"Where the hell were you?"� Zoe was frantic when she got back to where

they were sitting, and so was Mary Stuart and even Hartley.� They had

just been about to call the security when she got there.

"I'm really sorry," she apologized profusely to all of them, "I didn't

mean to worry you.� It took me a while to get through the crowd, and I

ran into Gordon."� Everyone accepted it and she sat down and they did

too, and half a minute later, Mary Stuart leaned toward her and spoke

to her in a whisper.

"You're full of shit, you went to find him."� There was mischief in her

eyes, and Tanya avoided eye contact with her.� She really didn't want

to admit it.� She was far more smitten with him than she was ready to

tell them.

"Of course not."� She tried to brush her off and pretended to watch the

first event, which was roping, which always bored her.

"I saw you," Mary Stuart said, and their eyes met.� Her friend was

smiling.� "Be careful," she whispered into Tanya's ear, but as they

were talking, half a dozen people approached them and asked Tanya to

sign autographs.� And since she had made a willing spectacle of

herself, she didn't think she could refuse them.� It was like that all

night, through the team roping, the barrel racing, the bareback

broncos, the bulls, and then finally, she saw him.� He was riding a

fierce, bucking bronco with a saddle.� And the thing she hated most

about saddle broncs was that the cowboys taped one hand into the horn

on the saddle.

They had to come off specifically on one side, and be able to get their

hand out.� And if they didn't, they could be dragged around on their

head for ten minutes before the pickup men could catch them.� She had

seen some horrifying accidents while she was a child in Texas.� And she

found herself terrified as she watched him come out of the gate on a

vicious brown horse that did everything it could to get rid of its

rider.� His feet were in the air just as they were meant to be, his

legs straight forward, his head and torso tilted far back, and he

didn't touch the saddle with his free hand.� And he seemed to ride

forever.� He rode until the bell, he had stayed on longer than anyone,

and he made a nice clean jump to the ground, while the pickup men went

after the bronco and got him.� He got an almost perfect score and waved

his hat and his taped hand in her direction and then strode across the

ring back to the pens, with his chaps and his boots, looking

glorious.

It had been a real victory for him.� And he had done it for Tanya.

They stayed until the last event, a final round of bulls, followed by

fourteen-year-old boys on young steers, that made you wonder about the

boys' parents.� It was certainly not as dangerous as the bulls, but

close enough, and Mary Stuart was outraged.

"Those people should be put in jail for letting those boys do that."

In fact, one of the youths had been stomped, a boy of twelve, but he

was on his feet again within a few minutes.� Zoe and the others had

been watching closely.

But in spite of some of the barbarism, and the sheer hokiness, Tanya

had to admit she loved it, it was everything she had always loved as a

child.� And as they left, the others couldn't believe the number of

people who asked for autographs on the way out, who snapped her

picture, and tried to touch her.� But the grand marshal had very kindly

sent the security and the real police over to her, anticipating that,

and she managed to get back to the bus without any real problems.

There were still about fifty people standing outside the bus when they

left, waving and shouting, and running alongside the bus as it drove

away.� It was an amazing phenomenon.� It was the adoration that always

came before the hatred.� If she stayed long enough, they would have

torn her limb from limb, in order to get a piece of her or maybe some

lunatic would really hurt her.� It was the kind of atmosphere that

always made her very nervous in crowds, or out in public.

"Tanya, you're amazing," Hartley said to her as they pulled away.� He

was filled with admiration.� She was gracious to everyone, while still

maintaining her dignity, and trying to give them what they wanted, and

yet keep a reasonable distance.� But through it all, one sensed

constantly how precarious the balance of the crowd was.� "I would be

terrified of even a little crowd like that," he said sensibly.� "I'm an

inveterate coward."� But she was used to doing concerts in front of as

many as seventy-five thousand.� Yet even in a crowd like the one

tonight, someone could easily have lost control and killed her.� And

she knew it.

"You also have a voice straight from God," he said.� "Everyone around

us was crying."

"Me too," Mary Stuart said, smiling.

"I always cry when you sing," Zoe said matter-of-factly, and Tanya

smiled, touched by all of them.� It had been a remarkable evening, and

Hartley sat with them for a while when they went back, and then he and

Mary Stuart took a walk, and he brought her back around

eleven-thirty.

They had stood in the moonlight for ages kissing, and Tanya and Zoe

thought they were cute and incredibly romantic.

"What do you think will happen?"� Tanya asked Zoe as they sat in the

using room, talking.

"It would be nice for her if things worked out with him, but it's hard

to tell.� I have the feeling in a place like this it's a little bit

like a shipboard romance.� And I'm not sure she's worked it all out in

her head with Bill yet."� It was astute of Zoe to notice.

"He's been such a bastard to her all year, I hope she leaves him,"

Tanya said, sounding harder than usual, but she was angry at Bill, and

she felt sorry for Mary Stuart.

"But he's been in pain too."� Zoe was more familiar with the strain a

death in the family put on otherwise decent people.� It turned some of

them into saints, others into monsters.� And Bill Walker had definitely

been the latter.

Zoe was going to say something about Tanya's wrangler too, but Mary

Stuart came in then, beaming.

"Are we allowed to check for beard burn?"� Tanya asked, reminiscent of

school, and they all collapsed in laughter.

"God, I'd forgotten what that is," Mary Stuart laughed, and then turned

to Tanya.� "You were unbelievable tonight, Tan.� Better than ever.

I've never heard you like that."

"It was fun.� That's the good part.� I always love the singing.

"Well, you give a lot of people a great deal of pleasure," Mary Stuart

said kindly.

They chatted for a little while, and Mary Stuart and Zoe went to bed,

and Tanya decided to stay in the living room reading.� She was still

exhilarated from the rodeo, and her brief performance, and just after

midnight, she heard a soft tapping on the window.� She thought it was

an animal oueside at first, and then she looked up and saw a flash of

green shirt, and then a face smiling at her like a mischievous boy.� It

was Gordon.� And she grinned when she saw him.� She wondered if in some

instinctive part of her she had been waiting for him.� The thought

crossed her mind as she slipped quietly out to see him.� It was chilly

outside, and she was still wearing her velvety suedes, and she was

barefoot.

"Shhh!"� He put a finger to his lips, but she hadn't been about to call

his name.� She had already guessed that he could get in a lot of

trouble for being there at that hour, with her.� His cottage was down

behind the stables.

"What are you doing here?"� she whispered, and he beamed at her.� He

was as excited as she was.

"I don't know.� I think I'm crazy.� Maybe almost as crazy as you

are."

It was as though he had known her forever.� And he would never forget

what she had done for him that night, or the voice with which she sang

it.

"You were great," she said, smiling at him.� "Congratulations.� You

won."

"Thank you," he said proudly.� It mattered to him.� A lot.� And just as

she had, he said he had done it for her.� It was his gift to Tanny, as

he called her.� It made her seem less like Tanya Thomas.

"I know you did."� He was standing next to a tree as she talked to him,

and he suddenly leaned against it and pulled her toward him.

"I don't know what I'm doing here.� I'm crazy.� I could get fired for

this."

"I don't want you to get hurt," she said honestly, standing close to

him, hoping no one would see them.

"I don't want you to get hurt either."� And then he frowned, looking at

her.� He had never been as afraid as he was that night, not for

himself, but for her, when the crowd engulfed her when she left him.

"I was terrified .� . . I was so afraid someone might hurt you."

"They might one day," she said sorrowfully, it came with the territory

for her, and she accepted it.� Almost.� "It could happen."� She tried

to sound casual about it, but she wasn't.

"I don't want anything bad to happen to you.� Ever."� And then he

surprised himself with what he said, "I wish I could be there to

protect you."

"You can't all the time.� Someone could get me coming out of my house

any morning, or on stage at a concert.� Or at a supermarket."� She

smiled philosophically, but he looked Ullhappy.

"You should have guards around you all the time."� He would have kept

her locked in the house, anything to protect "I don't want to live like

that, only when I have to," she whispered.

"I'm pretty good in a crowd, as long as they don't go crazy."

"The police said there were more than a hundred people running after

you when you left tonight .� . . that scared me .� .."

"I'm fine," she smiled at him.� "You're in a lot of danger on those

crazy broncos.� Maybe you ought to think about that instead of my

fans," she said, as he pulled her still closer and she didn't resist

him.� She didn't want to resist him, she wanted to melt into him, to be

part of him, and as he looked at her he could think of nothing but her

face, her eyes, the woman he had discovered behind the legend.

"Oh God, Tanny," he whispered into her hair.� "I don't know what I'm

doing .� .."� He had been so afraid of her, of being blown away by

her, or impressed, but he had never expected this, this avalanche of

feelings.� And as she put her arms around him, he kissed her as he had

kissed no other woman.� He was forty-two years old, and in his whole

life, he had never felt for a woman what he did for this one.� And in

less than two weeks now she'd be gone, and he'd wonder if it ever

happened.� "Tell me I'm not crazy," he said, looking down at her after

he kissed her.� "Except that I know I am."� He looked both miserable

and ecstatic all at once, victorious and defeated, but she was just as

wildly enamored as he was.

"We both are," she said gently.� "I don't know what's happening to me

either."� It was like a tidal wave that just wouldn't stop and he

kissed her again and again, and all she wanted to do was make love with

him and they both knew they shouldn't.

"What are we doing?"� He looked down and asked her.� And then he wanted

to know something he hadn't even thought to ask her.� "Are you

married?

Do you have someone .� . . a boyfriend?"� If she did, he was going to

stop now, even if it killed him, but she shook her head and kissed him

again.

"I'm getting divorced.� It's already filed.� And there's no one

else."

And then she looked at him, it was as though there never had been.� And

she suspected that if Gordon had been there instead of Bobby Joe, they

would still be married.

"That's all I wanted to know.� We can figure out the rest later.� Maybe

there will be no rest."� But I didn't want to play games if you were

married or something."

"I don't do that," she said softly.� "I've never done this before .

.

.

I don't care what they say about singers or movie stars .� . . I've

never fallen head over heels like this."� In fact, she had married the

men she'd cared for.� She was actually pretty square.� But what she

felt now for him was almost too much to handle.� And then she thought

of him and the possible repercussions.� "You have to be very careful so

no one knows.� I don't want you to get in trouble."� He nodded, not

really caring.� He had been at the ranch for three years, and he was

the head wrangler at the corral, but he would have gladly given it all

up for her, if she'd asked him.

"Tanny," he said, holding her close to him, running his hands through

her incredible hair and kissing her again and again.� "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, feeling more than a little crazy.

Neither of them had any idea what they would do about it, if anything,

but for the moment, it was more than a little overwhelming.� He didn't

even want to think about what he was doing.

"Will you come back to the rodeo on Saturday?"

"Sure."� She smiled at him, wishing she could sit on the bronc pen with

him.

"Don't sing again.� I don't want you to get hurt," he whispered.

"I won't," she whispered back, still leaning against the tree with

him.

"I mean it."� He looked genuinely worried about her.� She had marched

right into his heart three days before, as though she belonged there.

"Then don't ride the broncs," she teased, but she didn't mean it.� She

knew he had to, for the moment.� Maybe later, he would stop it.� If

there was a later between them.� But how could that happen?� They both

knew it couldn't.

"I'm going to worry about you now all the time," he said unhappily.

"Don't.� Let's trust fate a little bit.� It brought us together.� It's

a complete fluke I'm even here .� . . why don't we just see what

happens.

Life is funny like that."

"You're funny, and I love you."� He smiled and kissed her.

They stood there for a long time and kissed and talked.� He had a day

off on Sunday and wanted to go exploring with her.� She offered to take

him in the bus, but he just wanted to take her out in his truck, and

show her the places he loved, and she agreed to go with him.� She had

to figure out what to tell the others.� She didn't really want to

discuss it with them.� There was something so magical about what was

happening to them, she wanted to keep it private.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered finally, but he couldn't imagine

not being able to kiss her the next day, or put his arms around her,

but they both knew he couldn't.� Maybe he could come back the next

night, and go for a walk with her, late like this, but she didn't want

him to get in trouble.� The ranch management frowned on romances

between guests and wranglers, although everyone knew it sometimes

happened.� But he swore it had never happened to him.� He had never

done anything like it.� And all he could tell himself was that, for a

virgin, he had hit the jackpot.

She stood in the doorway and watched him go.� He was silent and quick,

and he disappeared into the darkness almost the instant he left her.

It was after two o'clock by then, and they had been out there for

nearly two hours, talking and kissing.� And when Tanya went inside, she

jumped when she heard a sound.� She had thought they were asleep, but

it was Zoe putting the kettle on in the kitchen.� She looked green and

she had a blanket around her.� She didn't tell Tanya, but she had

raging diarrhea.

"Are you okay?"� Tanya asked as soon as she came in, wondering how she

would explain what she was doing outside, but she didn't have to.� Zoe

had guessed, and didn't press her about it.� "You look sick."

"I'm all right," she said unconvincingly, and Tanya could see that she

was shaking from head to foot, and she was really worried.

"Zoe?"� Tanya looked at her with wide, worried eyes, and Zoe just shook

her head.� She didn't want to talk about it.� "Go to bed, I'll make

your tea for you."� Zoe went back to bed gratefully, and Tanya came in

with a cup of mint tea a few minutes later.� Zoe was still shaking but

she looked a little better.� Tanya handed Zoe the mug, and sat down on

the edge of the bed.� "What's happening?"� she asked, looking

worried.

"Not much.� Just a bug."� But somehow, Tanya didn't believe her.

"Do you want me to call a doctor?"

"Of course not.� I am a doctor.� I've got everything I need here."� She

had her AZT, a host of other medicines, she even had a shot she could

give herself if the diarrhea got out of control again.� She nearly

hadn't made it to the bathroom.� That would have been beyond awful, and

it would have taken a lot of explaining.

They sat there for a while, just thinking, both of them, as Zoe sipped

her tea and then lay back on the pillows.� She looked at her old friend

and felt she had to say something.� "Tanny .� . . be careful .� . .

what if he's not what you think .� . . what if he sells his story to

someone .� .

. or hurts you.� You don't really know him."� Tanny wondered how Zoe

had known, she was one sharp bird, and she smiled as she listened to

her.� None of it was impossible, but her instincts told her he was

genuine, and she usually only got in trouble when she ignored her

instincts.

"I think he's all right, Zoe.� I know that sounds crazy, because I

hardly know him.� But he keeps reminding me of Bobby Joe."

Zoe smiled at her wanly.� "The funny thing is he reminds me of him

too.

But the fact is he isn't Bobby Joe.� He's his own person.� And he could

do a lot of things to hurt you."� The price the tabloids put on her

head was a big one.� They would have paid hundreds of thousands of

dollars for a story about her.� Especially this one.� Not to mention

pictures.

"I know that," Tanya said cautiously.� "And the truth is it's

remarkable that I'm still willing to trust anyone, but I am.� I may be

crazy, but I trust him."

"You may be right," Zoe said fairly.� She had always been fair, even

when they were young.� It was one of the many things Tanya loved about

her.� "Just don't give your heart away too fast, you only get one, and

it's a mess to repair once it gets broken."� The two women exchanged a

long, slow smile.� Zoe would have liked nothing better than to see

Tanya find the right guy and be protected.

"What about your heart?"� Tanny asked her, as Zoe set her mug down.

And she was looking a little better.� "Why have you been alone for so

long?

Is it broken?"

"No," she said honestly, "just full of other people's stories.� There's

never enough time .� . . and now there's my baby.� I don't need more

than that."

"I don't believe you," Tanya said wisely, "we all do."

"Maybe I'm different," Zoe said, but she looked sad, and sick and

lonely, and Tanya wished she could do more for her.� She had always

loved her like a sister, and Zoe did so much for so many.� She was

truly a saint of sorts, and Tanya was worried that she looked so ill

and was so exhausted.� There was no one to take care of her normally,

to nurture her, and do for her what she did for others.� But she was

looking sleepy now, and Tanya turned off the light and kissed her

forehead.

"Get some sleep, and if you don't feel better in the morning, I'm

calling a doctor."

"I'll be fine," she said, closing her eyes, and she was almost asleep

before Tanya left the room.� She stood in the doorway for a moment and

looked at her.� Zoe was already asleep by then, and she was smiling.

And as Tanya walked back to her own rooms her thoughts drifted back to

Gordon.� She knew Zoe was right.� He could do terrible things to her

and really hurt her.� She was the most vulnerable person she knew, and

she couldn't afford the same emotional luxuries as other people.� He

could write an unauthorized biography, or give an interview to the

tabloids, he could take photographs of her and blackmail her if she let

him, he could do anything from extort money from her to kill her.� But

how could she live constantly worrying about things like that?� And she

was always so circumspect and so careful.� And now suddenly in three

days she had fallen head over heels in love with a cowboy.� It was

insane, and yet nothing in her life had ever felt more right, or

saner.

And as she slipped into bed after she brushed her teeth and put her

nightgown on, all she could think of was how he looked that night when

she told him she'd sung the anthem for him.� And all she cared about

was to be with him again, in the morning.� And as she fell asleep, she

could see his face, his eyes, as he rode the bronco .� . . his

green-and-silver chaps flying .� . . his hand held high .� . . she was

singing for him .� . . and he was smiling.

The day after the rodeo, when Mary Stuart woke up, she heard noises

just outside her bedroom.� She put her dressing gown on and walked into

the living room, and she found Tanya there, fully dressed and looking

worried.

"Is something wrong?"� She didn't even tease her about being up at that

hour, and already in boots and blue jeans.

"It's Zoe.� I think she's been up all night.� She won't tell me what's

wrong.� She thinks it's a flu of some kind, but Stu, she looks really

awful."� A thousand horrible possibilities crossed their minds from

ulcers to cancer.� "I think she should go to the hospital, but she

doesn't want to."

"let me take a look at her," Mary Stuart said quietly, but when she

saw her, she was momentarily shocked into silence.� Zoe's face was so

pale, it was a fluorescent green, and she was dozing.� She stood there

for a minute, and then they walked out of the room together.

"My God," Mary Stuart said, horrified, "she looks auEIl.� If she

doesn't go to the hospital, we should at least have someone come here

to see her," she said with complete conviction, and Tanya was relieved

to hear her say it.

Tanya called the manager and asked if there was a doctor nearby who

could make a house call.� They asked what the problem was and she said

only that one of her friends was extremely ill, they didn't know what

it was, but it could easily have been appendicitis or something that

needed immediate treatment.

Charlotte Collins, the owner, called back instantly, and she said she'd

have a doctor to them half an hour later.

"You don't suppose it's something serious, do you?"� Tanya asked Mary

Stuart as they waited, and Mary Stuart only shook her head, looking

worried.

"I just wish I knew.� I hope it's not.� But she works awfully hard.

Hopefully, it'll turn out to be nothing."

True to her word, Charlotte Collins had Dr. John Kroner there at

eight-thirty.� He was a young man, with athletic good looks, he looked

as though he had played football in college.� Xnd it was obvious when

he came in that he knew he was coming to see Tanya Thomas.� He tried

not to look impressed, out he couldn't help it, and she smiled warmly

at him, and tried to tell him about Zoe.

"What do you think is wrong with her?"� He sat down, looked at her

intently, and listened.

"I don't know.� She looks pale to me all the time, and she's tired, but

she seemed all right actually until yesterday.� She said she had the

flu, there was something wrong with her stomach.� She was absolutely

green, and shaking violently last night.� She was up until about two

o'clock, and this morning, she looks a lot worse and she has a

fever."

"Any pain as far as you know?"

"She didn't say."� But she had looked truly miserable.� That had to

come from something.

"Vomiting?� Diarrhea?"

"I think so."� Tanya felt inordinately stupid, and a moment l later, he

went in to see Zoe.� He closed the door, and they were inside for a

long time, and eventually he emerged.� It had been an interesting

meeting for him.� He knew who she was the moment she said her name.� He

had read everything she'd written.� And for him it was even more of an

honor to meet her than Tanya.

He had told Zoe he thought she'd feel better in a few days.� But she

had been honest with him and shared her secret.� He suggested she take

it extremely easy, stay in bed, drink clear fluids, do everything

possible not to get dehydrated, and try to recoup her strength.� He was

sure she'd be feeling better by Monday.� But he felt very strongly that

she needed a second week of rest, and he didn't want her going home on

Sunday.� She looked crestfallen at that, she didn't even know if Sam

was free to cover for her for a second week.� And she had said darkly

that she'd have to call him.� She wanted to see her little girl, and go

back to work, and she was worried that this was a sign of things to

come, but Dr. Kroner told her he hoped it wasn't.� She was bound to

have isolated incidents like this, but if she was careful to handle

them properly, they didn't have to signal a complete collapse of her

defenses.

"You know," he said pleasantly, "you know a lot more about all this

than I do.� I read you in order to help my patients.� You've made a

real difference to the people I work with.� The funny thing is I've

always wanted to write you."

"Well, now you won't have to," she said kindly, but she still looked

awful.� He had offered her an IV of fluids, but she didn't want to

upset Mary Stuart and Tanya, and slle thought she could accomplish the

same thing by drinking.

"If you can't keep it down though, I'm coming back to give you an

IV."

"All right, Doctor."� He had also suggested that the altitude might

have aggravated her situation.� She thought that was hopeful.� Each

time she got sick, she was terrified it would mean a marked

degeneration, but so far, she'd been lucky, and she always got better

quickly.

Tanya and Mary Stuart were waiting just outside her door when the

doctor emerged, and they were deeply concerned by the long visit.

"How is she?"

"She'll be all right," he said calmly.� She had warned him that her

friends knew nothing of her problem, and she did not intend to tell

them.� He disagreed with her, but it was her decision obviously, she

was the patient, as well as the expert.

"What took so long?"� Tanya had been genuinely panicked.� It was

nine-thirty when he came out.� Hartley had come by an hour before, and

Mary Stuart had told him they weren't riding that morning.� Tanya asked

him to tell Cordon.� Hartley said he'd ride out with him alone, and if

Zoe was better by that afternoon, Mary Stuart and Tanya could join

him.

"I'm afraid that was my fault," the young doctor said apologetically,

explaining his long visit with Zoe.� "I'm a big fan of Dr.

Phillips's.

I've read every article she's ever written."� It was refreshing to have

someone be a fan of someone else for a change, and Tanya smiled at him

in amusement.� "I'm afraid I was picking her brain and telling her

about some of my patients."� He was really the only practitioner well

versed in AIDS in the area, and he had had a million questions.

"I wish you'd come out and told us she was all right," Tanya said

snappily, "we were really worried."

"I'm sorry," he said kindly, and then told them he'd be back

tomorrow.

"Make her stay in bed and drink lots of fluids," he reiterated as he

left, but Tanya found when they went in that they didn't need to argue

with her.� She was already working on a large bottle of mineral water,

but she still looked awful.

"How goes it?"� Mary Stuart asked her, and she shrugged.

"Not great.� He says I'll feel better tomorrow.� I've picked up some

awful bug here."

"I'm sorry."� Tanya felt responsible, and Mary Stuart was instantly

maternal, tucking her in, bringing her dry crackers, and a can of

ginger ale in case that appealed to her more than water, and a banana

to replace the potassium she'd lost with the diarrhea.

"You guys are so wonderful to me," Zoe said with tears in her eyes.

She was feeling emotional and she wanted to see her baby.� "I really

have to get back," she said, and burst into tears, and she was furious

with herself when she did.� She hadn't meant to.� "He thinks I should

stay here another week," she said as though it were a death sentence

instead of an extended vacation.� But she was also coping with

everything else he'd said to her about her condition, and they'd had a

serious discussion about AZT and her T cells.� And somehow, discussing

it with him brought the situation home to her again with a vengeance.

Unfortunately Zoe knew more about all of it than he did.� And she knew

what the prognosis was too.� She dealt with it daily, and as her two

friends looked at her in dismay, she found that she couldn't stop

crying.� But their being nice to her had made the whole realization

harder than ever.� She was still adjusting to the realities of her

future.

"Zoe, is there anything else bothering you?"� Mary Stuart sat down on

her bed, looking worried.� It wasn't like Zoe to be so high-strung, and

it scared her.

"I'm all right," she said, blowing her nose again, and taking a sip of

water.� But it was all so hard.� She was going to die eventually, and

she had nowhere to leave her &aughter.� She had thought of both of them

in the past few days, but Tanya had never had kids, and Mary Stuart

seemed to feel she was past them.� They were all still young enough to

have another child naturally, so it wasn't entirely out of the

question, but she was afraid to ask them.� And it meant telling them

that she had AIDS, and despite what the doctor had just said about

opening up to her friends and reaching out to them for support, she

really didn't want to.

But what he had told her was exactly the kind of thing she said to her

patients.� "I've just been working too hard," she explained.

"Well, then," Tanya said, trying to sound calmer than she felt.� She

was deeply concerned about Zoe.� "Maybe this is an important lesson.

Maybe when you go back you need to slow down a little bit, even take in

a partner."� Zoe had thought of it too, and the only one she'd have

been interested in was Sam, but she didn't think he'd want to.� He had

never had any interest before in sharing a practice, only in doing

locum tenens.

"Don't lecture me," she said irritably to Tanya, and surprised both of

them.� "You work even harder than I do."

"No, I don't.� And singing isn't nearly as stressful as taking care of

dying patients."� But as she said it, Zoe started to cry again, and she

felt completely foolish.� She was utterly miserable and sorry she had

ever come to Wyoming.� She didn't want them to see her this way, it was

really upsetting.� "Come on, Zoe, please," Tanya begged her.� "You just

feel rotten, so everything seems worse.� Why don't you just stay in bed

and sleep today.� I'll stick around if you want, and by tonight I'll

bet you'll feel better."

"No, I won't," she said stubbornly, suddenly angry at her fate, and

what it meant for her future.

"I'll stay home," Mary Stuart said firmly.� They were fighting to take

care of her, and Zoe smiled through her tears as she listened.

"I want you both to go out and play.� I'm just feeling sorry for

myself.

I'll be okay .� . . honest."� She was starting to calm down, and Tanya

looked relieved, as they watched her.� "Besides, you both have

boyfriends."� She teased them and blew her nose again.� In crazy ways,

their lives were so much more normal, and hers wasn't.

"I wouldn't go that far," Mary Stuart objected with a grin.� "I'm sure

Hartley would be thrilled to be called my boyfriend."

"And Gordon would go nuts if he thought anyone knew he said more than

two words to me," Tanya added.

"You guys talked for hours outside last night," Zoe said, looking

pleased but tired and leaning her head against the pillow.� "Just be

careful," she warned her again, and Mary Stuart nodded.� They both

knew that Tanya was sensible usually, but sometimes she led with her

heart, instead of her radar.

"Why don't you get some sleep," Mary Stuart said gently and Zoe nodded,

but in a funny way she didn't want therm to leave her.� She just wanted

to be there with them, and stay close to them.� It was almost as though

they had become her parents.

"I have to call Sam," she said sleepily.� "I'm not even sure he can

stay another week for me.� If he can't, I'll have to go home no matter

what and at least see some of my patients."

"That would be really stupid," Tanya told her.� "In fact," she looked

at Mary Stuart pointedly, "we won't let you.� We're holding you

hostage."

Zoe laughed at them, and then tears filled her eyes again and Mary

Stuart leaned over and kissed her.

Zoe was still completely overwrought, and as Mary Stuart looked at her

eyes, it was as though there were someone frightened and sad trapped

inside her.� And somehow, she had to try one more time.� She didn't

want to intrude, but she wanted to help her.� As she leaned over her,

she asked her one last question.� "Are you leveling with us?� Is there

anything you want to tell us?"� She didn't know what made her ask, but

she just sensed that Zoe was sitting on the edge and wanted to tell

them something, but was afraid to.� She didn't answer at first, and

Tanya had been standing in the doorway and she turned and watched them,

and then added her voice to Mary Stuart's.

"Zoe, is there?"� They both sensed that she was keepi!"g something from

them, and they weren't sure what, but they knew it was important.� "Is

something wrong with you?"� All of a sudden she had the overwhelming

feeling that Zoe had cancer, but as she looked at them her eyes filled

with tears again, and her voice was very small when she answered.

"I have AIDS, guys."� There was a deafening silence in the room, and

without saying a word, Mary Stuart leaned forward and hugged her.� By

then, she was crying too.� At least cancer might have been cured, but

AIDS couldn't.

"Oh, my God," Tanya said and walked back into the room, and sat down on

the bed next to Zoe.� "Oh, my God why didn't you tell us?"

"I just found out recently.� I didn't want to tell anyone.� How can I

take care of my patients if they think I'm sick?� I have to be strong

for them, and for so many people.� But I've been thinking about it so

much, about what it means to my life, my career .� . . my baby.� I

don't even know what to do with her when I die, or if I get really

sick."� She looked from one to the other then, in terror.� "Will you

take her?"� They were the best friends she had, and she would have

loved to know that Jade was with them.

"I will."� Tanya spoke up instantly, without hesitation.� "I'd love to

have your baby."

"And if for some reason, Tanya can't, I will."� Mary Stuart said it

strongly and firmly, but Zoe was still worried, though grateful.

"What if you're with Bill, and he doesn't want her?"

"I'm going to leave him anyway," she said in a clear, sure voice, and

Zoe believed her.� "And if for some reason I didn't, I would then for

sure, if he wouldn't let me take her."� And she meant it.

"And I don't have anybody telling me what to do," Tanya said with a

warm smile, holding her friend's hand.� It was small and frail and

icy.

"But you have to take care of yourself.� You could live for a long

time.

You owe her that, and us, and your patients.� What about this doctor

covering for you?� Have you told him?� You're going to need his help so

you don't overdo it."� It was exactly what Dr. Kroner had told her

that morning.� But she didn't want to tell Sam either.� It was enough

that Tanya and Mary Stuart knew.� Now they would nag her, and worry

about her, and tell her what not to do.� But on the other hand they

would also support her and love her.� It was the same dilemma she saw

with all her patients.� On balance, with Tanya and Mary Stuart, she was

actually glad she had told them.� Now she knew that Jade could go to

Tanya, and she could draw up the papers.� Hopefully, it wouldn't happen

for a long time, but you never knew.

"I really don't want to tell him," Zoe said, referring to Sam.� "Word

would spread like wildfire, and I just don't want that.� It diminishes

my impact on my patients."

"On the contrary," Mary Stuart said seriously, "I think it increases

it.� They'll know then that you really know whereof you're speaking."

And then she wondered something, though she was almost embarrassed to

ask her.� "How did you get it, by the way?"

"A needle stick from a little girl with AIDS.� She squirmed and so did

I, it was just bad luck really.� I wondered at the time, but I decided

to be philosophical about it.� I almost forgot, and then I started

getting sick.� I denied it for a while, and then I finally got

tested.

I just found out before I called you," she said to Tanya, and Tanya sat

on her bed, holding her other hand and crying.

"I just can't believe this," Tanya said, feeling badly shaken.

"I'll be okay.� I'll feel better when my gut settles down again," Zoe

said, looking a little stronger.� They were so suw portive of her that

she felt terrible to have upset them.� They looked worse than she

did.

"I want both of you to go out and play.� I don't want you sitting here

all day," she said firmly.� It was nearly lunchtime.

"We will if you promise to get some rest," Tanya said, and Zoe

nodded.

"I'm going to sleep all day, and by tonight, hopefully, I'll feel

human."

"You have to be okay by tomorrow night," Mary Stuart said practically,

"so we can all learn the two-step.� Let's get priorities straight

here."

They all smiled through their tears, and the three of them held hands

for a long moment.� And Zoe thanked her lucky stars that she had come

to Wyoming.� Being with them had been the most important thing that had

happened to her in ages, and it had settled her daughter's future.� She

had made her peace with Mary Stuart, and she was even coming to terms

with the fact that she had AIDS.� She hated the thought of it, but she

knew somehow that if she did the right things, perhaps she could

prolong her life and improve the quality of it.� It was the best she

could do now.� And then the three of them made a pact and Zoe made the

others promise her not to tell anyone that she had AIDS.� If anyone

wanted to know, she wanted them to say she had an ulcer, or even

stomach cancer.� They could say anything except that she had the AIDS

virus, and was dying.� She didn't want to deal with their terror or

their pity.� And her friends agreed to support her in her deception.

She sent them out finally, and when Mary Stuart and Tanya walked out,

they both started crying, but they didn't say anything until they were

out of earshot.

"Oh, God, what an awful day," Mary Stuart finally said when they were

halfway to the stables.� They didn't even know where they were going,

they were just walking and crying, with their arms around each other.

"I can't believe it."

"You know, it's funny.� I kept thinking she was very pale.� She always

had that translucent kind of skin that goes with her red hair, but

she's been paler than ever since she got here," Tanya said, thinking

back over it, "and she gets tired very easily."

"Well, this explains it."� Mary Stuart looked devastated, and was

grateful that they had made peace now.� "Thank God she told us.� What a

terrible burden to take on alone.� I hope we can do something to help

her."

"She needs to tell the guy who's covering for her, Sam.� He really has

to help her, or she has to find someone else who will," Tanya said

practically, thinking of the future.

"I guess that explains why she won't date," Mary Stuart added.

"I don't see why she can't, if she's careful," Tanya said

thoughtfully.

"I'm sure other people do.� She can't completely isolate herself, it's

not healthy.� Oh, God, I can't believe this," Tanya muttered, and they

both blew their noses in unison, just as Hartley and Gordon walked

toward them, leading their horses.� They almost walked right into them,

and both men saw immediately that they'd been crying, and wondered what

had happened.

"What happened?"� Hartley asked.� He had been very worried when Mary

Stuart had told him they couldn't ride that morning.� And Gordon was

terrified that Tanya had come to her senses and was now afraid to face

him.� But it was obvious now that something much worse had happened to

them.� And at first neither woman answered.

"Are you all right?"� Gordon asked Tanya cautiously.� She looked as

though someone close to her had died.� It wasn't that bad, but it would

be, someday.� This was just the introduction.

"I'm okay," Tanya whispered, brushing his hand with her fingers, and he

felt an electric current run through him.� "How's your friend?"� Tanya

didn't answer, and she saw that Mary Stuart was talking to Hartley and

crying again.� She knew Mary Stuart was too discreet to break her

promise to Zoe and tell him Zoe had AIDS, but Tanya suspected she might

say she had cancer, which was what the three of them had agreed to tell

Hartley and Gordon.� And Tanya chose to do the same thing with

Gordon.

He felt terrible when he heard, and he could see easily how close they

were.

"I've known her since I was eighteen.� That's twenty-six years," she

said miserably, and he wished he could put an arm around her shoulders,

but he didn't dare.� He was working.

"It sure doesn't look it," he said, and she smiled at him.

"Thanks.� I'm probably ten years older than you are," she said.

"Officially, I'm thirty-six, in case it matters.� But I'm really

forty-four."� He laughed at the complications.� "Well, I'm really

fortytwo, and I'm really a wrangler, and I'm really from Texas, and I

was starting to panic.� I figured you'd woken up and come to your

senses and never wanted to see me again or something."� He had been in

a total state all morning, and could hardly pay attention to Hartley.

Fortunately, no one else had ridden with them.

"I was up at six o'clock to get ready to see you.� I couldn't sleep I

was so excited.� It's like being fourteen years old and falling in love

for the first time."� It was like when she had fallen in love with

Bobby Joe in eighth grade, only more so.� "It was all I could think of

all night .� . . and then, this morning, everything went crazy.� She

was so sick, and I called the doctor.� And he sat with her for hours,

and then she told us."

"Is she going to be all right?� For now, I mean.� Should she be in a

hospital?"

"He doesn't think so," Tanya explained, "unless she gets worse here.

But she wants to go home and go right back to her practice."

"She's an amazing woman."� And then he looked down at her, suffering

for her friend, even before she lost her.� The thought of it almost

killed her, and it reminded her of Ellie.� That had been so

heartbreaking for all of them.� And Zoe would be even worse when it

happened.

"You're an amazing woman too," he said gently.� "I've never known

anyone like you.� I never expected you to be so real.� I thought you

were going to be the fanciest woman I ever met, instead you're the most

human, the most down-to-earth, the plainest."� It wasn't an insult, but

a compliment, and she knew that.� "Do you think you can still get away

on Sunday?"

"I'll try.� I want to see how she is first," but she also knew that it

would be their only chance to be together.� He worked every other day

of the week, and the following Sunday, when he'd be off again, they

were leaving.

"Is this real, Tanny?"� he asked her suddenly, as they stood there,

under the oak trees.� He wanted it to be, he wanted to believe it was

everything he thought it was, but he was desperately afraid that she

was just some fabulous movie star who had come up from Hollywood, was

going to play a little bit and forget him.� But that didn't seem like

her.� He didn't even dare say it.

"It's real," she whispered softly.� "I don't know how it happened, or

when," she smiled then, "you annoyed the hell out of me when you

wouldn't talk to me on Monday.� Maybe that's when it happened.� But

whenever it did, I've never known anything like this.� It's real,

Gordon, believe me," she said softly, and she looked as bowled over as

he did.

"I didn't talk to you because I was afraid to, and then you didn't turn

out to be the way I thought, and I just couldn't help it.� I just

wanted to ride around those hills with you forever."

"What are we going to do now?"� She wanted to see him and talk to him

and spend time with him, and see what they had here, but she didn't

want to cost him his job and get him into trouble.

"Can I come back and talk to you tonight?"� he asked softly so no one

would hear them, and she nodded, and raised her eyes to his with a

small smile.

"We'll ride tomorrow.� I think this afternoon we'll stay with Zoe,

unless she's sleeping or something.� I want to check on her again after

lunch.� What about tomorrow night?� Will you come and teach me the

two-step?� The brochure says the wranglers will teach us, and I'd like

to hold you to it."� In spite of their horrendous morning, she was

teasing him, and he loved it.� His eyes were as full of love and

excitement as hers were.� It was just a shame they couldn't really

indulge it.� But this had its high points too, it was tender and

secret.� "Will you teach me, Mr.� Washbaugh?"

"Yes, ma'am.� I'll be there."� It was one event he was expected to

attend, and he intended to take full advantage of it.� "And on

Saturday, I'm in the rodeo again."

"I'll be there," she whispered.

"Are you going to sing again?"

"Maybe."� She smiled.� "It was fun."� But it had also scared them both

a little.� "I'll see what the crowd looks like."

"You looked great on that palomino."� She would have loved to ride off

on it with him.� "And Sunday is ours, and we'll see how next week

goes."

"That sounds pretty good."� She smiled at him, this was very new for

both of them, and more than a little scary.� They wandered back to

Hartley and Mary Stuart then, and as he left them, Gordon brushed his

hand against hers, and it tied her stomach in a knot being so close to

him, and not being able to do anything about it. �She was dying to kiss

him.

"How was your ride?"� she asked Hartley, and he looked sympathetic.

"A lot nicer than your morning.� Mary Stuart was just telling me about

Zoe.� Pancreatic cancer is an awful thing.� I had a cousin who died of

it in Boston."� Tanya nodded, grateful to know her friend's story.

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Tanya said, and exchanged a glance with Mary Stuart.� "She

could go on for quite a while apparently, but eventually there might be

complications."� It was complicated lying, but he was nodding

agreement.

"That's exactly what happened to my cousin.� All you can do is make her

as comfortable as possible, let her do what she wants, and be there if

she needs you."� His saying that reminded Tanya that she had forgotten

to tell Gordon she was taking Zoe's baby eventually.� She wanted him to

know, for a variety of reasons.� And she wanted to see his reaction.

She couldn't believe that she was actually testing the waters for a

future with him after three days, but if it was even a remote

possibility for some later date, she wanted to know how he would react

to a number of things, and one of them was Zoe's baby.

Hartley walked them up to lunch, and the three of them talked endlessly

about Zoe, her health, her career, her clinic, her child, her future,

her brilliant mind, her enormous devotion to mankind.� They went on

endlessly about her, and the subject of their admiration and sympathy

was sitting in her bedroom, thinking.� She knew she had to call Sam,

but she was stalling about it.� She needed to ask him if he'd cover for

her for a few more days, but she was afraid he'd hear something more in

her voice, and she wanted to keep it from him.� But while she sat

mulling over what to do, and whether she should just leave a message

for him, the phone rang, and it was providence, because Sam was calling

her to ask her advice about a patient.� She needed a major change in

medication, and Sam wanted to be sure he was doing what Zoe wanted.� He

was actually surprised to find her in her room, he was planning to

leave a message, but thought he'd check first, just in case she was

there for a minute.

"I'm glad I caught you," he said, sounding pleased and then asked her

the question, and she gave him the answer.� She was happy that he'd

asked, so many other people didn't give the primary physician that

courtesy to make the decision.

"I really appreciate your asking me," she told him.� It was why she

liked having him cover for her instead of other people. �Other relief

doctors had screwed up many of her patients while she was gone, and

never even bothered to tell her.

"Thanks for saying that," he said.� He sounded busy and happy, and he

said he was taking a rare lunch break.� "You don't get fat around here,

I'll say that much.� I haven't run this hard since med school."� In the

past he had covered for her at night, or an afternoon, so she could go

to dinner, or the theater, or have a glass of wine without worrying

about it at a social event.� This was the first time he'd done a whole

week for her, and he loved it.� "You run a great show here," he said

admiringly, "and all your patients love you.� It's mighty hard to live

up to."

"They're probably not even asking for me by now."� She smiled.

"They're all going to come in asking for Dr.� Warner."

"I should be so lucky."� And as he listened to her, he thought she

sounded a little strange, like she was tired or in bed or had just

woken up, or been crying, and it suddenly struck him as odd, and he

asked her about it.� It was just an instinct, and she was so startled

to be asked if she was really all right or upset about something that

it silenced her for a moment, and then she started crying again, and

couldn't answer.� And he heard that too, and suddenly in his head,

there were alarm bells.

"Did something happen to one of your friends?"� he asked her gently.

"Or to you?"� He was an extraordinarily intuitive person and that

scared her.

"No, no, they're fine," she said, and then realized she had to ask him

about the following week while she had him on the phone, and she

decided to try it.� "Actually, I was going to call you anyway.� We're

having such a good time that I was wondering if .� .."� She faltered

and pressed onward all in the same breath, hoping he wouldn't notice.

". . . if you could maybe do another week for me, possibly less.� But

at worst, I'd come home a week from Sunday.� I wasn't sure if you were

free, or how you felt about it, and I wanted to ask you."

"I'd love it," he said quietly, but he had listened to every intonation

in her voice and he was convinced she was crying.� "But something's

wrong, and I want to know what it is so I can help you."

"Really nothing," she continued to lie to him.� "But can you do another

week at the clinic?"

"I told you I would.� No problem.� But that's not the issue.� Zoe,

what's wrong?� There's always a piece of the puzzle you don't show

me.

Why are you hiding?� What's wrong, baby .� . . I can hear you crying

.

. . please don't shut me out .� . . I want to help you."� He was almost

crying too, and at her end she was sobbing.

"I can't, Sam .� . . please don't ask me .� .."

"Why?� What is it that's so terrible that you have to hide and carry

all your burdens alone?"� And then as he asked her, he knew.� It was

the same thing she saw every day, and he was seeing now.� The ultimate

scourge, the greatest shame, the final sorrow.� She had AIDS.� She

didn't tell him, but he knew it.� "Zoe?"� She could hear in his voice

that something had happened.� And at her end of the phone, she was very

quiet.� It explained a lot of things, why she wanted no relationship

with anyone, why she had looked so ill that day.� It happened to a lot

of doctors who treated patients with AIDS.� You tried to be so careful,

but it happened.� You made a mistake, someone moved wrong, you stuck a

child and pricked yourself, you were tired, you got sloppy, whatever

the reason, the result was final.� "Zoe?"� he said again, and his voice

was very gentle.� He was only sorry not to be in the same room with her

so he could put his arms around her.� "Did you stick yourself?� I want

to know .� . . please .� .."� There was a long, long silence, and then

a sigh.� It was so hard fighting him.� Her secret was out now.

"Yeah .� . . last year .� . . she was a little kid and very wiggly."

"Oh, God .� . . I knew it.� Why didn't you tell me?� I've been so

stupid, and so have you.� What are you doing?� Why are you hiding from

me?� Are you sick now?"� He sounded panicked.� She had AIDS, and he'd

done nothing to help her except cover her practice.� His mind and heart

were racing.� "Are you sick?"� he asked her again, sounding still more

forceful.

"Kind of.� It's not serious, but the doctor here wants me to take it

easy for a few days.� I think I'll be all right by Monday.� He says

give it a full week to avoid secondary infection."

"Listen to the doctor.� What is it?"� He sounded suddenly clinical and

she smiled.� "Respiratory?"� She didn't sound like it though.� Aside

from the tears, her voice was normal.

"No, the usual horror that comes with this disease.� Raging diarrhea.

I really thought I was going to die last night.� I'm amazed I

didn't."

"You're not going to die for a long time," he said matterof-factly, "I

won't let you."

"I've been through this myself, Sam," Zoe said sadly.� "Don't do this

to yourself.� Remember, that's how I started in this business.� The man

I lived with got a bad transfusion.� I started the clinic because of

him.

But it was the hardest thing I ever did, watching him die, and I had a

lot of good years with him before that.� I won't do that to anyone, and

I sure won't start that way.� That's starting at the ending.� I won't

do it."

"Do you regret you did it?� Are you sorry?� Do you wish you hadn't been

with him?"

"No," she said clearly.� She had loved Adam till the end.� But she

didn't want Sam to go through what she had gone through .

"What if he had said he wouldn't let you?� What if he tried to send you

away?"

"He did more than once," she smiled.� "I just didn't listen.� I didn't

go.� I wouldn't have left him," and as she said it, she thought about

what she was saying, and then faltered, "but that was different."� And

then she wondered.� "I would have felt cheated if I hadn't been there,"

she said pensively, thinking of Sam.� But in some ways she hardly knew

him, in other ways she'd known him forever.

"Why are you trying to cheat me?"� he said bluntly, no longer willing

to be put off, or pretend, or hide his feelings.� "I'm in love with

you.� I think I have been for years.� Maybe even since Stanford.� I

think in those days I was just too stupid to know it.� And once I

figured it out, you never gave me the opportunity to say it.� But I'm

not going to let you stop me now.� I want to be there for you .� . . I

don't care what this miserable disease does to you .� . . I don't care

if you get diarrhea, or sores on your face, or pneumonia.� I want to

help you stay alive, I want to do your work with you, Zoe .� . . I care

about you and Jade .� . .

please let me love you .� . . there's too little love in the world, if

we've found some, let's share it.� Don't throw it away.� Your having

AIDS doesn't change anything, it doesn't make me not love you, it just

means that what we have is more precious.� I won't let you throw it

away.� It means too much to me .� .."� He was crying now, and she was

so moved, she couldn't speak through her own tears.� "Zoe .� . . I love

you .� . . if I weren't covering for you here, I'd get on the next

plane and tell you in person, but you'd probably kill me if I did that,

and left no one minding the store."� He laughed through his tears then

and so did she.

"Yes, I would, so don't you dare leave the clinic."

"I won't, but otherwise I'd be there tonight.� Besides, I miss you.

You've already been gone too long," he complained.

"Sam, how can you be so crazy?� How can you do this to yourself?"

"Because you don't get choices about things like this in life.� You

fall in love with the people you fall in love with.� Sorry if it's

inconvenient, sorry if you're sick.� I could fall in love with some

awful woman tomorrow and have her fall under a train.� At least you and

I know the score here.� We have some time, maybe a lot, maybe a

little.

I'm willing to take what we can get.� What about you?� Are you going to

waste this?"

"You'd have to be so careful."� She was still trying to discourage him,

but he wouldn't listen.� He was absolutely sure of what he wanted from

her.

"Being careful is a small price to pay, isn't it?� It's worth it.� God,

I miss you so much, Zoe.� I just want to hold you, and make you

happy."

"Will you work with me?� Full-time, I mean, or even parttime?"� That

was almost as important to her, maybe more so.� She had a

responsibility to a lot of people, even more than to herself as far as

she was concerned.

And she needed Sam to help her.� But he was more than willing.

"I'll work with you night and day if you want," he said, and then

thought better of it.� "Actually, I'll do the night and day stuff, you

do a little less, please.� And let's take some time for us.� I don't

want you wearing yourself out anymore.� Let's take good care of you.

All right?

Just like we tell the patients.� And you'd better listen to me.� In

your case, I'm the doctor."

"Yes, sir," she smiled, and wiped her eyes again.� It had been an

emotional morning.� She had told her two best friends and Sam, and none

of them had let her down, on the contrary, they were three

extraordinary human beings.� And then Sam startled her yet again.

"Let's get married," he said, and she couldn't believe what she was

hearing.� He was truly insane, but she loved him for it.� She was

smiling broadly when she answered.

"You're certifiable.� I won't let you do that."� She was horrified but

deeply touched that he would offer.

"I would have wanted to marry you whether you had AIDS or not."� And he

meant it.

"But I do, and you don't need to do that to yourself," she said

sadly.

"What if this were one of your patients?� I know you.� You'd tell them

to do whatever made them happy and seemed right to them."

"How do you know this is right?"� she asked gently.

"Because I love you," he said, praying she'd hear him.

"I love you too," she said cautiously, "but let's not rush into this,

let's take it slowly."� He liked what she was saying, because it meant

she thought she had some time to make decisions, and that meant she was

optimistic, which was important.� But he really did want to marry

her.

But he knew he might convince her more easily in person.

"I'm awfully glad I called you today," he said happily.� "I got advice

about a patient, a job, full-time preferably, and possibly a wife.

This was a very fruitful conversation," he said, and she laughed.

"I can't believe I left a lunatic like you in charge of my clinic."

"Neither can I. But your patients love me.� Think how happy they'll be

when we're Dr.� and Dr.� Warner."

"I have to take your name too?"� She was laughing.� She really did love

him.� She had been so fond of him for so long, but she had never

allowed her feelings for him to move forward.� She had been too busy

taking care of her patients to let herself be anything more than a

doctor, and mother.

"You can call yourself anything you like if you marry me," Sam told her

magnanimously.� "I'm very open-minded."

"You're crazy," and then she grew serious for a moment, although they

were both in good spirits.� "Thank you, Sam .� . . I think you're

wonderful," she said honestly, "and I really do love you," she said

softly.� "It scared me before how much I liked you, but I was

determined not to get you into a mess like this.� And you walked

yourself right into it.� You can still change your mind if you want."

"I'm here forever," he said calmly.

"I wish I were," she said sadly.

"You might be.� If I have anything to do with it, you will."

"At least my work will be .� . . and the clinic .� . . and Jade .� .

.

and you .� . . and my friends .� .."

"If you ask me, it sounds like a lot to stick around for."

"I'll do everything I can, Sam.� I promise."

"Good.� Then get a lot of rest while you're there and come back

healthy, and check yourself into the hospital if the diarrhea doesn't

stop."

"It has," she said, and that reassured him.

"Drink a lot of fluids."

"I know.� I'm a doctor.� Don't worry.� I'll be good.� I swear."

"I love you."� It was odd.� It was so totally unexpected.� He was so

happy suddenly.� She loved him.� She had AIDS, it was terrible news,

and yet in some crazy way he was happy, and so was Zoe.� She was still

smiling when Mary Stuart and Tanya came in later after lunch to check

her.

"What happened to you?"� Tanya asked suspiciously.� "You look like the

cat that swallowed the canary."

"I talked to Sam.� He's going to come to work at the clinic full-time

.

" "Wow, that's terrific," Mary Stuart said enthusiastically, she knew

what a relief that was for Zoe.

"No, no, wait .� . . she's lying," Tanya said, narrowing her eyes and

looking at their old buddy.� "There's more, and she's not telling."

"No, there's not."� But she was laughing as she said it.� It was a far

cry from the intensity and sorrow of the morning.

"What else did he say?"� Zoe was grinning from ear to ear as she tried

to avoid Tanya's question.

"Nothing.� I told him," she hesitated, looking more serious suddenly,

"that I was positive."� She hated to say the words, and then she looked

at her friends with wide eyes filled with disbelief, still unable to

believe what he llad said to her at lunchtime.

"What did he say to you?"� Mary Stuart asked gently, and Zoe turned to

her with a broad smile of amazement.

"He asked me to marry him.� Can you believe that?"� The other women's

jaws dropped, and they looked at her in delighted disbelief, but it was

Tanya who spoke first.

"let's get you healthy so you can go home to this guy, before someone

else grabs him.� He sounds terrific."

"He really is."� Zoe had no idea what she was going to do yet.� But she

was going to be with him, and work with him, and let herself experience

everything that life offered her, and if he really wanted to marry her,

then maybe she would.� But whether or not she married him, she knew she

loved him, and that was the most important.

"Well, I'll be damned," Mary Stuart said, enormously impressed by Dr.

Sam Warner.

The three of them talked about it for a little while, and then Mary

Stuart and Tanya went out for the afternoon, since Zoe seemed to be

doing so much better.� Hartley and Mary Stuart went for a hike that

afternoon, and talked about a number of things, especially Zoe and a

man who was brave enough to marry a woman he loved and knew was

dying.

They both thought it was an extraordinary gesture, and they loved him

for it.

And Tanya went out riding with Gordon.� They were lucky that day.� No

one else in her party wanted to ride, Hartley was on the hike with Mary

Stuart, and the doctors from Chicago had gone fishing that afternoon,

so they were actually alone, without even planning it.� Gordon took her

to a waterfall in the mountains on horseback, and they dismounted for a

while, and lay in the tall grass among the wildflowers while he neld

her and they kissed, and it took a superhuman effort not to let it go

any further, but they wanted to move as slowly as they could, despite

the limited time they had.� They already felt as though they were on an

express train.� But it was the most beautiful afternoon of her life, as

she lay looking up at him, and thell he lay next to her, and they

looked at the mountains.� They walked for a while, hand in hand,

leading their horses, talking about their childhoods, and they talked

about Zoe too, and Sam's remarkable love for her.� They were brave

people in a hard world.� And in her own way, Tanya was too.� She had

come a long way in her life, and now suddenly, there was someone solid

and warm and kind beside her.� It frightened her a little bit to think

of what the press would make of it, and she tried to warn him of the

damage they could do, the hurt they could inflict, but he didn't seem

to care, and he told Tanya to look around them.

"As long as we have this, now can you care about all that?� It is so

unimportant.� We're all that matters, and what we are to each other."

"And if we don't have this anymore?"� she asked, looking around her,

and thinking of going back to California.

"We will," he said quietly, "we have to.� As long as we have something

here, a place we can come to, to get sane again, maybe the rest of that

insanity won't matter."� It was an interesting idea, and she liked

it.

Maybe he was right, and she should buy a place in Wyoming.� She could

certainly afford it.� She could even sell the house in Malibu.� It was

huge, and she almost never went there.

"I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of a whole new life," she

said, as they stood on a bluff, looking out over the valley.� They

could see buffalo, and elk, and cattle, and horses.� It was an amazing

sight, and she could see easily why he loved it.

"You are standing on the edge of a new life," he said calmly, and then

he turned her toward him again, put his arms around her, and kissed

her.

On Friday morning, Zoe was still asleep when Tanya tiptoed in to look

at her, but she seemed peaceful, she'd eaten well the night before, and

Mary Stuart agreed when she came in that Zoe's color was better.

They were just going out to ride, when she got up, and wandered into

the living room in her nightgown, and they were pleased to see that

they'd been righ..� She looked a great deal better.

"How do you feel?"� Mary Stuart asked sollcitously.� They were both so

worried about her "Like a new woman," Zoe said, almost sorry she told

them.� She wondered if she shouldn't have said she had AIDS, but the

cat was out of the bag now, and it meant a lot to her to have them

support her.� "I'm sorry I was so much trouble yesterday."� Tanya

wanted to tell her how sorry she was that Zoe had pricked her finger

the year before, and contracted AIDS, but she didn't.

"Don't be silly."� Their eyes met and held and they each knew what the

other was thinking.� There was real love there, and compassion and

caring.� They were the kind of friends that came along once in a

lifetime.� "We want you to take care of yourself.� Stay in bed today,

get lots of rest.� I'll come back at lunchtime to see if you need

anything," Tanya said as she put an arm around her.� She was surprised

to realize that under the flannel nightgown, Zoe was incredibly frail,

even more so than she looked.� There was barely any meat on her.

"Do you want us to stay with you?"� Mary Stuart asked generously, and

Zoe told her that she didn't.

"I just want you two to have a good time.� You both deserve it."

They'd all been through rough times in different ways, death, divorce,

all the trauma of which life was made and that challenged one's very

survival.

"We all deserve a good time," Mary Stuart said, "so do you."

"I just want to get back to work," she said, she was beginning to feel

really guilty for being so lazy, and a second week away seemed

absolutely sinful.� But she knew she needed to recover from the little

episode she'd just been through.

"Be a good girl and be lazy."� Tanya wagged a finger at her, and a few

minutes later she and Mary Stuart left for breakfast.

Hartley inquired about their friend, and they sat and talked quietly

about her over breakfast.� They thought she was very brave, and Tanya

was grateful that Sam was being so supportive.

"He must be quite a man," Hartley said admiringly when Mary Stuart told

him of Sam's reaction when Zoe told him.� They still hadn't said she

had AIDS and they didn't plan to.� He thought she had cancer.

"She might recover," he said hopefully, but it was obvious that he

thought it was unlikely and so did they.� "I knew another couple who

did something like that, got married in the face of a terminal

prognosis.

They were the most remarkable people I ever met, and probably the

happiest, and I think she lived a lot longer because of it.� He just

refused to let her go, L she fought valiantly, and I think their love

added years to her life.

I've never forgotten them.� I don't think he ever remarried when she

died, he wrote a book about it, about her, and it was the most touching

thing I've ever read, I cried from beginning to end, but I can't tell

you how I admired him.� He loved her more than any man could love a

woman."� There were tears in Mary Stuart's eyes as she listened, and

she wished that more than anything for Zoe.

Sam called Zoe that afternoon, and they talked for a long time.� He

wanted her to promise him, seriously, that they'd get married, and she

was still accusing him of being crazy.

"You can't propose to me," she said, touched and flattered and moved to

tears by what he was saying, "you don't even know me."

"I've known you for over twenty-two years, I've worked with you off and

on for five.� I've probably been in love with you for the last twenty,

and if we both were too dumb to see it then that's not my problem.

You're so busy taking care of everyone else all the time, Zoe, you

don't even see what's happening right next to you.� I want to be there

for you," he said, and his voice was warm and gruff and sexy when he

said it.

"You already are there for me, Sam," she said softly.� He was

amazing.

"I'll be here for you as long as you want me.� Besides, we haven't even

had our first date yet."

"I know.� You haven't even tasted my lasagne."� There were so many

things for them to do, so many things to discover about each other.

"I'm a great cook.� What's your favorite kind of food.H" He didn't know

things like that about her, and he wanted to know them all now.� He

wanted to spoil her, and be there for her, and take care of her.� He

wanted to make history, and have her recover.� But if she didn't, he'd

be there for her too, until the bitter end.� He knew now, to his very

soul, that it was his destiny, and nothing she could have said to him

would dissuade him or change that.

"My favorite kind of food?"� She was smiling at his question.� She

almost didn't remember that she was sick.� She felt better today, and

she was so happy.� It was all about now, about just being there at this

very moment, and not worrying about tomorrow.� "Actually .� . . I

think, takeout.� You know, fast food, you stick it in the lab closet

and eat three mouthfuls between patients."

"You're disgusting.� No more of that.� Nothing but gourmet meals for

you.

Maybe I should do catering instead of locum tenens."� But he was going

to be full-time now, and they both loved the idea.� The idea of working

with her daily really pleased him.� Besides, he could keep an eye on

her and make sure she didn't overdo it.� "Speaking of which," he had

reminded her, "we need to find a new relief, you can't take calls for

me if we're going to be together."� She was already assuming, as he

was, that they would be together most of the time.� The idea certainly

appealed to her, now that he knew her situation, and she had a feeling

that the relationship was going to be even better than either of them

expected.

And for a moment she smiled and thought of Dick Franklin.� She could

never have done anything like this with him, he would never have been

there for her.� She was just damn lucky she had known Sam Warner, and

she knew it.

"We can cover for each other some of the time," Sam said practically,

"and I'll ask around if anyone knows someone good who could cover for

us.� There's a guy I did some work for whom I like, and a woman who's

done a lot of AIDS work at General.� She's young, but she's good.� I

think you'd like her."

"Is she pretty?"� Zoe asked with concern, and he laughed.

"You've got nothing to worry about, Dr. Phillips."� But he sounded

pleased.� "I didn't know you were jealous."� This was all so crazy and

so wonderful. �It was as though it had all come together like magic.

"I'm not, just smart and careful."

"Fine, I'll put the word out, we're only looking for guys or ugly women

to relieve us .� . . Zoe, I love you."� There was something so tender

in his voice that it brought tears to her eyes as she listened to

him.

"I love you too, Sam," she said, and he promised to call her later that

afternoon, when he was finished working.

"Your patients are stacking up outside, I'd better get back to work

before I close your clinic.� Get some rest, and I'll call you later."

"I think I might go to dinner tonight," she said, looking up at the

ceiling as they chatted.� She really was feeling a lot better.

"Don't push too hard.� Just take it easy, remember.� I want to take you

out when you get back, so rest up.� There's a new restaurant on Clement

I want to try."� It all sounded so alive and so real, and so hopeful.

And she said as much to Dr.� Kroner that afternoon when he came by.

But she didn't have to, he could see it.� She was still a little

dehydrated, and he wanted her to push fluids more, but she looked like

a new woman.

He knew that she was aware that she would have times like that,

terrible moments, and episodes of illness or despair, and then she

would rally.

Eventually the bad times would outnumber the good ones, but not

necessarily for a long time.� She could go on like this for a long time

before it got worse, or it could get worse very quickly.� No one could

predict it, and she knew that better than he did.

"Can your locum tenens guy stay on for a while?"� he asked after he had

checked her, and sat down to chat in her cabin.

"Actually, yes, he can," she laughed, thinking of all the things Sam

had said since the day before.� "He can stay for quite a while.� He's

agreed to come in full-time."� She was smiling as she said it.

"That's t,errific," he said, looking pleased for her, and a little

surprised that she looked so happy.� The episode of the day before

seemed to have left her almost ecstatic.� It was an unusual reaction

for someone who was potentially as sick as she was.� "But how much of

the work do you think you'll be willing to let him take on?� You have

to agree to give some of it up, Dr. Phillips," he said, and she

nodded, but she couldn't stop smiling.

"Actually, I think he'll be taking on quite a lot."� She paused as she

looked at him.� "He wants to get married," she said, feeling like a kid

again, and not even a sick one.� She wasn't even sure if they would,

but the fact that he wanted to touched her deeply.� Knowing that he

wanted to be there for her meant everything, with or without a

wedding.

The wedding was only frosting on the cake, the important thing was that

he'd be there for her, in sickness and in health, for better or

worse.

That was all that mattered.

Dr. Kroner congratulated her, and he looked pleased for her.� Things

certainly seemed to be working out well for her, and that was

important.

She said that she had told her friends about her illness too, and it

had been very emotional for all of them, but she felt great support

from all the people who really mattered to her.

"You know how much that means," he reminded her.� It was important not

to make oneself vulnerable by telling the wrong people about the

disease, those who couldn't handle it, and would shrink from patients

in horror.� But most people had a small core group who could make a

difference, and now she had one.

They talked about her plans for a while, and her work, and her clinic,

and Sam, and Jade, and the things she wanted to do when she got home.

He reminded her not to overdo it, and she promised she wouldn't, but he

said he didn't believe her.

"You're probably right," she laughed.� She couldn't wait to get back

and see her patients, but she was having fun in Wyoming too, and she

thought it was doing her good.� Like the others, she had felt the same

pull here.

There was something almost mystical about the mountains.

And then he asked her something that surprised her.� He said he wanted

a favor from her, and she couldn't imagine .

what it was.� But she was deeply touched when he asked if she would

visit some of his patients.� She was so knowledgeable and she had so

much experience, it would be invaluable to him if she would see them.

He only had about half a dozen, but he read everything he could, and

had a huge library on AIDSrelated research.� He had copies of all her

articles, he said.� But having her actually consult with him would be

the greatest help he could think of.

"Not until you're feeling stronger of course .� . . maybe in a few days

. .."� He looked up at her with hopeful eyes, and she told him she'd

be happy to do it.� In fact, she was honored.

"What kind of visiting services do you have?"� she asked with

interest.

"Not bad," he said modestly, grateful for her interest.� "We have a

wonderful hospice group, and some terrific nurses.� I see everyone I

can.

I go out to them, I try to rally their friends and families to help

them.� We're trying to organize some kind of a small central kitchen

run by some friends, a little bit like Project Open Hand in San

Francisco, on a smaller scale.� I hope we never need to service that

many people.

For the moment, fortunately, we don't have that many cases.� But with

the influx of people from urban areas, people in the entertainment

business, writers, people who just want to escape, I think that,

conceivably, we could wind up with a lot more people coming here who

have AIDS, possibly even in late stages, and in need of treatment.� I'd

appreciate all the input from you I can get," he said, and she nodded

soberly.� She promised to send him some additional books too, volumes

that had been useful to her, and even some of the articles Sam had

recommended to her.� They started discussing alternative medications

then, and by the end of the afternoon they discovered they'd been

talking shop for nearly two hours.

She was tired by then, and he suggested she take a nap before she

tackled dinner.� She wanted to go to the dining room, to watch the

twostep lesson they were having afterward.� It sounded like fun and she

knew the others were going.� And she wanted to go with them.

"I'll come and see you at the hospital in a few days, or maybe you want

me to do house calls with you.� See what works best for you," Zoe said

helpfully, "I'm open to anything, just leave me a message."� They were

doctor and student now, more than doctor and patient, but he knew that

she was well aware, better even than he, of what she needed.� She

thanked him again for his help the day before, and when he left, she

lay down again and fell asleep.� She was sleeping soundly when the

others came back from riding.� It had been a pleasant afternoon for

them.� They had paired off as they often did now, Hartley rode with

Mary Stuart, and Tanya rode on ahead with Gordon.� And she was happy to

hear he was coming to the dancing lesson in the main living room that

night.� It was one of the rare occasions when the wranglers were not

only allowed to mingle, but asked to.� And Gordon was particularly

popular because everyone said he was such a good dancer.

Zoe woke up in time to get dressed, and chatted with her friends.� With

Zoe feeling so much better again, in spite of what they now knew of her

disease, they were all in surprisingly high spirits.� But their

romances had them all laughing and talking and giggling.� And once

again it reminded all of them of the old days in Berkeley.

"God, it's like being kids again, isn't it?"� Tanya said, still amazed

at what was happening to each of them.� "Do you suppose it's the water

here?"� She hadn't had as much to say to anyone in years as she seemed

to with Gordon, and Mary Stuart and Hartley looked as though they had

always been together.� They were amazingly comfortable and completely

at ease, and they seemed to have identical, or at least compatible,

views on almost every subject.

"I've never known anyone like him," she said. �It made her think of

living with Bill, even before Todd died.� There had always been a

considerable divergence of opinion between them, but she'd thought it

was interesting, and even at the best of times, there had been a fair

amount of amicable conflict.� She used to think it gave texture to

things, and it shed new light on a variety of situations.� But in

Hartley's case, everything was so much smoother.� Now she saw what it

was like being with someone who had the same ideas about things, shared

the same views, it was like dancing with Astaire and being Ginger

Rogers.� She and Bill were no longer even in the same ballroom.

She was halfway out the door that night, in bright red jeans, a

matching sweater, and lipstick exactly the same color and her dark hair

pulled back, when the phone rang.� The others had just gone on ahead,

and she had stayed to look for the bright red cowboy boots she'd bought

at Billy Martin's.� She had just pulled them on and run out the door

when the phone rang.� And she was tempted not to answer.� But it didn't

seem fair to the others, it could have been a call from Zoe's child or

one of her patients, or something warning Tanya of danger, or a

potential problem.� She hurried back into the room, carrying her red

cashmere shawl, and picked up the phone, sounding breathless.

"Hello?� " "Is Mrs. Walker there?"� She didn't recognize the voice at

first.� It was a man and she couldn't imagine who was calling.

"This is she.� Who is this?"� she said formally, and then was startled

by the answer.

"Mary Stuart?� It didn't sound like you."� It was Bill, and it only

underlined how remote they had become.� Neither of them had recognized

the other.� But she hadn't spoken to him in days.� Most of the time

now, they exchanged brief and extremely uninteresting faxes.

"It didn't sound like you either.� I was just running out to dinner."

"Sorry if this is a bad time," he said drily.� It was three o'clock in

the morning for him.� And she couldn't imagine why he was calling.

"Is Alyssa all right?"� Her heart skipped a beat as she asked L him.

It was the only reason she could think of now for him calling.

"She's fine," he said calmly.� "I spoke to her yesterday, they're

having a ball in Vienna.� They had just arrived from Salzburg.� They're

all over the place, but it's fun for them.� I don't suppose we'll see

her now all summer."� Mary Stuart smiled at the description of what she

was doing.� It sounded just like her.

"If you talk to her again, tell her I love her.� She hasn't called

me.

I think the time difference probably makes it too difficult.� But I

figured she was okay, or she'd have called you.� It's late for you.

What are you doing up at this hour?"� They were like business

associates exchanging news, there was nothing personal between them.

"I was working late, and I was stupid enough to drink coffee this

afternoon, so here I am, awake at this ungodly hour, so I figured I'd

call you.� The time difference never really works for me either."

Neither does our marriage, she wanted to add, but she didn't.

"It's nice of you to call," she said, but sounded unconvincing.� She

didn't even want to try anymore.� She didn't want to warm up to him.

She had made her decision.� She wanted out now.� And it had nothing to

do with Hartley Bowman.� It had everything to do with William Walker.

"What are you doing there?� You haven't told me a thing in your

faxes.

In fact, I don't think I've heard from you in several days, have I?"

He didn't even remember.� But it didn't matter to Mary Stuart.

"No, don't tell me much either," she said pointedly.

"There's nothing to tell, I'm working.� I'm not going to Annabel's or

Harry's Bar.� I'm sitting on my duff day after day, night after night,

getting ready for this case.� It's not much fun, but I think we're

going to win it.� We're very well prepared."

"That's nice," she said, looking down at her red leather boots, and

thinking of her husband.� But as she listened to him, she found all she

could think of now was Hartley.� And Bill suffered from the

comparison.

She couldn't imagine having this conversation with Hartley Bowman, or

having the year she had just shared with him.� She couldn't imagine any

of it, or wanting to live through it again, or even continue any

longer.

"What about you?"� He was pressing her, and she didn't seem to want to

talk.� He noticed it too, and wondered about it.

"We're riding every day.� It's incredibly beautiful here.� I've never

seen anything like it.� The Tetons are spectacular, better than

Europe."

"How are your friends?"� Why was he so interested suddenly?� She

couldn't understand it.

"They're fine."� She didn't say a word about Zoe.� "In fact, they're

waiting for me for dinner."� She didn't tell him about the two-step

lesson afterward, or about Zoe's illness.� There was nothing she wanted

to share with him.� It was over.

"I won't hold you then.� Give them my best."� She was about to thank

him and say good-bye and there was an awkward pause at his end.� It was

late for him, and she hadn't seen him in weeks now.

"Stu .� . . I miss you."� There was an endless silence after he said

it.

She didn't want to mislead him now, and she didn't know why he was

doing this.� After a year of silence and pain, why would he?� Maybe he

just felt guilty, or was sorry about what they no longer had, just as

she was.� But she wasn't going to play games with him, and she wasn't

going to let him hurt her again.� He had hurt her too much already.

The doors were closed now.� She wondered, from the hour and his tone,

if he had been drinking.

It wasn't like him, but it was late and he was alone, it was

possible.

Whatever the reason, she wasn't buying.

"Don't work too hard," was all she said.� A month before, six months

before .� . . a year before .� . . she'd have felt like a monster for

what she wasn't saying.� But now she felt nothing at all as she said

good-bye and hung up the phone, and hurried out the door to meet the

others for dinner.

l The two-step lesson that night was even more fun than anticipated.

All the guests came, and Zoe sat wrapped in a blue cashmere shawl, she

was wearing a soft chamois dress and beautiful turquoise earrings, and

she looked lovely as she sat there.� Some of the other guests had worn

skirts that swirled as they danced.� Tanya looked spectacular as usual

in a white lace antique Victorian dress that managed to make her look

both innocent and sexy.� And Gordon looked totally overwhelmed by her

when he saw her.� He was wearing jeans and a clean cowboy shirt, a

black Stetson and black boots.� Tanya told him when they met that he

looked like a cowboy in a movie.� And Charlotte Collins asked that

Gordon do the demonstration.� He had apparently won several prizes for

his two-step.

"Not just for riding bulls and saddle broncs, although he won't tell

you that," she teased.� She was a wise and canny old woman.� And she

was keeping a motherly eye on Zoe, who was content to sit on the

couch.

She was not yet feeling up to dancing, but she was having a good time

chatting with John Kroner, who had come for dinner and the evening.

Charlotte invited him frequently, and he had come tonight just for the

pleasure of seeing Zoe and to get a chance to talk to his hero.

"Has anyone here ever done the two-step before?"� Charlotte asked, as

Gordon came forward and several return guests raised their hands

awkwardly, and Tanya couldn't help laughing.

"Not since I was about fourteen, Miss Charlotte."

"That's right," Charlotte smiled warmly at her, "we have a girl from

Texas.� Will you give it a whirl?"� she asked, as though Tanya would be

doing her a favor, and the guests instantly applauded.� If they

couldn't hear her sing, at least they could watch her do the

two-step.

"I'm afraid I'll disgrace myself," she laughed, "and you," she said to

Gordon as he approached her.� But the temptation to dance with him was

too great, the lure of him too strong, and she slipped her hand gently

in his and headed for the middle of the floor as they turned on the

music, and Charlotte explained to everyone how you did it.� Gordon went

through the motions with her slowly first, and then with the next song,

he spun her around, walked her forward and back and twirled her, and

everyone clapped, they looked fantastic together.� It looked like a

professional demonstration, and Gordon looked as though he were going

to die of joy as Tanya twirled lithely around him and he took her in

his arms as the song con included.

"You Texas turkey," he whispered to her with a broad smile, "you're

better than I am.� Don't tell me you haven't done that in a while."

"I haven't," she whispered back, but she'd had a great time.� And they

danced again, as the other couples joined them, and everyone tried and

most of them stumbled.� She and Gordon danced four more times, and then

he changed partners and showed several others how to do it.� But at the

very end, he came back to her, and they did it one last time.� Everyone

had had a great time, and people were admiring her, but they left her

alone now.� They hardly even whispered when they saw her.� She was a

familiar sight here, and she was very comfortable on the ranch, and

even more so with Gordon.

When the music was over, he stood around, and several other wranglers

were talking to the guests as well.� After five days together, they

were all good friends, and a relationship had developed among them,

though none quite as intense as Tanya and Gordon's.� But much to their

relief, absolutely no one seemed to suspect what had happened.

" I had a great time, " he smiled down at her, and she looked up at him

with eyes full of excitement and laugher.

"Me too.� You're a good dancer, Mr.� Washbaugh."

"Thank you, ma'am."� He stretched out his drawl and bowed to her and

they laughed as Charlotte Collins joined them.

"You two should enter the contest at the state fair," she said with a

broad smile.� "It sure is pretty when it's done right."

"I'm afraid I'm pretty rusty," Tanya said modestly.� But she and

Bobby Joe had entered all those contests and won them "Is everything all

right?"� Charlotte asked.� She had been very concerned about Zoe.� John

Kroner hadn't told her what it was, but he said her condition was

serious, and it concerned her.� "Dr. Phillips is looking a little

brighter."� But she was still pale, and in spite of her animated look,

she seemed very fragile

"She's feeling a lot better tonight," Tanya said, looking relieved but

still somewhat worried.� When she took a little distance from her, she

noticed again how pale and thin Zoe was.� It was hard not to, but when

you were talking to her, she was so alive and so intense that you

forgot it.

"I see you're going back to the rodeo tomorrow," Charotte said with a

smile.� Tanya and the others had just ordered tickets before they went

to dinner.

"Are you going to sing again tomorrow night?� You were the talk of the

town after Wednesday."

"I'd like to," Tanya smiled generously, tossing her long blond hair

over her shoulder, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that Gordon

was frowning.� "We'll see if they ask me, and how the crowd looks."� If

she saw a lot of drunks, or it looked rowdier than it had on Wednesday

night, then she wouldn t.

"Oh, they'll ask you.� It was the high point of the year in Jackson

Hole.� Maybe the decade.� You were nice to do it."� She smiled and then

moved on to the other guests, and Gordon was still frowning.

"I don't want you to do that," he whispered.� "I don't like the way

people get when you're close like that.� If you're up on a stage, with

security, they can't hurt you."

"Yes, they can," she said honestly, and she knew they might someday.

She had worn a bullet-proof vest at a concert in the Philippines once

and swore she'd never do that again.� She had been shaking from head to

foot and ready to throw up through the entire concert.� "That's why I

rode the horse the other night," she said matter-of-factly.� "I knew I

could get the hell out of Dodge if I had to."

"I don't like you taking chances," he said, not wanting to be

overbearing with her, but genuinely worried.

"I don't like you riding bulls and broncos."� She looked him straight

in the eye while she said it.� She knew this cowboy life.� She came

from it.

And she knew the price you paid, and its dangers.� But she knew her own

world too, better than he did.

"Tell you what," he said honestly, "we ever make a go of it, and I'll

give up the bulls and broncs."

"I'll hold you to it," she said softly, and then she wanted to be

honest with him too, "but I can't give up concerts, Gordon.� That's how

I make my living."

"I know that.� I wouldn't expect you to.� I just don't want you to do

some two-bit thing to be nice to them, and get hurt.� It's just not

worth it.� They don't deserve it."

"I know," she sighed, looking up at him.� It was hard to believe they

were having this conversation, negotiating their future, what they

would each give up and what they wouldn't.� But there was no harm done,

if it ever happened.� "I just like to sing for the hell of it

sometimes, without the promoters and the contracts and the hype and all

the bullshit.� It's fun to just do it."

"Then sing for me," he smiled.

"I'd love that."� There was an old Texas song she would have loved to

sing for him.� She had sung it as a kid at high school dances, and it

had gotten popular since, but she had always thought of it as her

song.

"I will one day."

"I'll hold you to that too."� There were a lot of promises floating

between them.

They all stood around and talked for a while, and then Mary Stuart and

Tanya took Zoe back to the cabin.� Gordon had promised to show up

later, if he could.� He said he would just tap on her bedroom window.

She told him which one it was, and then they left, and Hartley walked

them back, and then sat outside with Mary Stuart.� Tanya and Zoe were

inside the cabin chatting.

Mary Stuart told him about the call from Bill before dinner, and he

looked at her thoughtfully while she told him.

"He's probably realizing what he's missed, and what he's given up for

all these months," he said, thinking about it, and looking at her.

"What are you going to do if he wants to fix it?"

"I can't imagine it," she said honestly, "but I realized something when

I talked to him tonight.� I don't want to do that.� I can't go back

again.

We can't undo the last year, or what happened to Todd.� I don't think

I'll ever forgive him for how he's behaved.� That's a nasty thing to

say, and it's mean-spirited of me, but to be honest with you, I think

he killed it."

"And if he didn't?� If he comes back and tells you how much he loves

you and how wrong he was, what then?"� He wanted her to think about

that before they made a mistake.� They were both extremely attracted to

each other, but they were being very cautious, and that was just what

he wanted.� He didn't want to get decimated either.

"I don't know, Hartley.� I'm not sure.� I think I know.� I believe it's

all over for me.� I suppose there are no guarantees until I see him.� I

think I'll be sure then."

"Why are you waiting until September for that?"� It was a question she

had been asking herself lately too.� Originally, she had thought she

needed time, and she was glad she'd have the summer in which to

think.

But ever since she'd been here, she realized that she was ready to

tackle it now.� It had even occurred to her that she might fly to

London to talk to Bill, and she said as much to Hartley.

"I think that's a good idea," he said gently, "if you feel ready for

it.� I don't want to push you."� They had known each other for five

days, and it had been an extraordinary experience for both of them, but

it was possible that it was all a dream, an illusion, or maybe it was

real and something very special.� Only time would tell.� But first, she

had to deal with her I husband.� Neither of them wanted to do anything

confusing before she did that.� And as tempting as it was to just fall

into bed with each other, she knew they wouldn't.

"I'm going to Los Angeles with Tanya when I leave here.� I was going to

stay a week, but she's busy anyway."� She was thinking out loud and

sharing it with him.� "I think I'll stay for a few days, and then fly

to London.� I came here to think, and to decide what I wanted.� And I

knew the moment I came here.� I think I knew before that."� She had

known when she left her apartment in New York that she would never live

there the same way again.� She had been saying good-bye to her old life

when she left it, and she knew that, and she said as much to Hartley.

"There's something about these mountains that gives you the answers to

many things.� I missed coming here after Meg died."� He smiled at Mary

Stuart then and took her hand in his.� "It would be amazing if I found

my new life here, if I came here to find you," and then he looked at

her sadly, "but even if nothing comes of this, if you go back to him, I

want you to know how happy you've made me.� You've shown me that I'm

not as alone as I think I am, that there is someone out there who can

make me fall in love again.� You're a beautiful gift I never expected,

you're a vision of what life can be when two people love each other and

are happy."� He was exactly the same for her.� He was living proof that

there was someone in the world who cared about her, that she could talk

to easily, and who could love her.� And she didn't want to give that up

now.

He wasn't asking her to, but he wanted her to be sure of what she

wanted to do about her husband before moving toward him.� Mary Stuart

felt certain she had made her mind up.

"I don't think seeing him is going to change anything," she said

gently, holding Hartley's hand in her own and kissing it.� He was so

dear to her, she had grown so fond of him in such a short time, and

they felt incredibly protective about each other.� But they also knew

that she needed to prove to herself L K what she still felt for Bill

and what she didn't.� And Hartley didn't want to rush her, but she

insisted he wasn't.

"It was so strange when he called me tonight.� It was like talking to a

total stranger.� I didn't even recognize him at first, nor him me, and

I couldn't figure out why he was calling.� It's sad to feel so far away

from someone you once loved.� I never thought it would happen to us."

"You weathered one of life's cruelest blows," he said

sympathetically.

"Most marriages don't survive it.� The statistics are staggering.� I

think it's something like ninety-seven percent of people who lose

children get divorced.� You have to be awfully strong to withstand

that," he said kindly.

"And I guess we weren't."

"I love being with yous Mary Stuart," he said, smiling at her, and

changing the subject.� He wanted to move ahead with her, to be in New

York with her, to go to Europe with her, to share his friends and his

life and his career.� There was so much he wanted to do with her, and

he was anxious to get started. �He had been alone for two years, but he

knew he had to wait a little longer.� She had to go to London to see

her husband.� But once she'd gone, if she was sure, the possibilities

were limitless, and he knew that.� There was nothing else left to hold

then! back from each other, although he was still a little bit

concerned about her daughter.� He had never had children of his own,

and he wondered if Alyssa would resist him, if she would blame him for

the divorce, and choose to hate him out of loyalty to her father.� In

fact, the divorce wouldn't have been because of him, but it might be

hard for her to accept that.� He had spoken to Mary Stuart about it

that afternoon, and she admitted that she and Alyssa would have to do

some very serious talking.� But on the other hand, she wasn't willing

to stay with her father just for her.� Alyssa had to make her own

life.

And as Mary Stuart saw it, her own life was better than half over, this

was her last chance possibly to make a life with a person she could

really care about and who loved her.� She wasn't going to let the

chance pass her by out of loyalty to something she no longer had with a

man who could no longer love her.� She wanted to be with Hartley.

They sat together for a long time, talking about the past, the present,

and the future.� And it was all agreed.� She would go to London the

week after they all left Wyoming.� She didn't think she'd stay in

London for more than a few days, possibly less if Bill didn't want to

discuss it further.� And she might try and meet up with Alyssa

somewhere for a day.

She wasn't sure if she would tell her yet, unless Bill thought they

should, otherwise she thought telling Alyssa her parents were getting

divorced could wait until September.� But she just wanted to see her,

if Mary Stuart could even find her on her trek around Europe.� And then

she would go home again, and get her life organized.� She had no idea

what Bill would want to do with the apartment.� If he would want to

keep it, or sell it, if he wanted to live in it, or thought she

should.

But she had already made her mind up about that too.� She didn't want

to live there.� It was all too painful, and a constant reminder of

tragedy every time she passed Todd's room.� Whether or not his things

were there made no difference.� She knew he had once lived there, knew

exactly where the Princeton banner had been, and the trophies, and the

teddy bear on his bed when he was little.� His things were put away

now, and it was time for them to put their things away too.� It was

time for a whole new life for all of them, and hopefully, if she was

very lucky, and the Fates were kind to her, hers would be with

Hartley.

"Would you like to come to Fisher's Island with me when you get back?"

he asked cautiously.� "I have a funny old house there.� I haven't been

there much since Margaret died, but I thought I'd spend some time there

in August."� She looked at him gratefully then, and nodded.� He had his

ghosts too, his old haunts, his routines.� They both did.

"I'd love that.� I didn't really know what to do with myself this year,

with Bill away for so long.� I was going to go out and see friends in

East Hampton."

"Come and stay with me then," he said, nuzzling her neck.

He wanted nothing more than to wake up next to her, to listen to the

ocean and make love to her all afternoon and all night and all morning,

and talk into the wee hours, and share his favorite books with her.� He

had already discovered that she was a passionate reader and they loved

almost all the same authors.� He had some wonderful first editions he

wanted to share with her.� He wanted to walk down the beach holding her

hand, and tell her all his secrets.� But they had already shared most

of them, riding through the wildflowers across the foothills and the

valleys of Wyoming.� It was already wonderful, and it could only get

better.

It was late when he finally pulled himself away from her, and they were

both satisfied with their plan, that she should go to London after the

following week, and then come and spend time with him on Fisher's

Island.� It was the trip to London that was so important.� And as he

said good night to her, he asked her one last painful question.

"And if he wins you back?"

"He won't," she said, kissing him.

"He would be a fool not to," Hartley whispered, and then kissed her.

And if he did, Hartley knew he would have to find the way back without

her.� "Maybe we should figure out a signal," he said, "so I'll know if

my life is over or just beginning."

"Stop worrying," she said, and they kissed again, but he couldn't help

it.� He wanted her so badly.� "I love you," she said, and meant it to

the depths of her soul.� She barely knew him, and yet she knew she

could spend the rest of her life with him, and never regret it for a

moment.

He was completely different from Bill, and yet she knew that she could

have lived a lifetime with either of them and been perfectly happy.

But her time with Bill had come and gone.� And her time with Hartley

was just beginning.

On the way to the rodeo, they were all in high spirits again.� Zoe had

decided not to come, she said she felt up to it, and she looked fine,

but she wanted to marshal her strength, and she thought the rodeo would

be too taxing.� She had stayed home with Hartley's latest book, which

he'd given her, and she wanted to call Sam, and talk to the baby.

Tanya and Mary Stuart were going to the rodeo, and Hartley had come

with them.� He was wearing a new cowboy hat he'd bought in town that

afternoon, and he had bought one for Mary Stuart.� Tanya said they

looked like fancy Texas ranchers.� The hats had been steamed and shaped

for them, the crown had been raised on hers, the brims trimmed on both

of them.� They were the real thing, and they made a handsome couple.

Funnily enough, they had both worn navy blue, it was something Hartley

said couples sometimes did unconsciously when they were particularly in

tune with each other.� But it warmed Tanya's heart to see them.

"You two are so cute," she said, sitting on the couch on her bus,

swinging one leg over the other.� She was anxious to see Gordon.

Hartley was aware of that situation too, but he was extremely discreet,

and Tanya knew he would keep their secret.� But like Gordon, he was

worried about her safety.

"Shouldn't you have security with you?"� he asked sensibly, and Mary

Stuart nodded.� She thought the rodeo was dangerous for her too.� But

Tanya insisted that it wasn't.

"I would in L.A. normally, at something like this, but the people are

so decent here.� They're not going to hurt me.� The worst they're going

to do is ask me to sign a bunch of autographs and that's not so bad.

It seems so showy to take a bunch of security guys with me to a small

town rodeo.� It looks so Hollywood, I'd be embarrassed to do it."

"But maybe it's smarter," he persisted.� "At least be careful," he

warned, and she smiled at him.� She loved the fact that he was so good

to Mary Stuart.� She had never really liked Bill Walker.� She always

thought he was too hard on Mary Stuart, and expected so much from

her.

In Tanya's opinion, he had completely taken her for granted.� He had

the perfect house, the perfect wife, the perfect children, and he

expected it that way.� She wondered how much he'd ever really

appreciated it, how often he'd thanked her, if ever.� But she was sure

that he was going to be stunned now when Mary Stuart told him it was

over.� Even his faxes to her made Tanya mad.� They were so cold and so

aloof, and so unfriendly.

Hartley was entirely opposite from Bill, he was warm and kind and

solicitous, and concerned about everyone around him.� She really

thought he was perfect for Mary Stuart, and they looked fabulous

together.� They even looked a little bit alike, except that his hair

was gray and he was ten years older.� And he made Tanya promise that

she'd be careful that night, and ask for help from the police if she

had the smallest problem.

"Just stay close to us, and don't go wandering o*," Mary Stuart warned,

sounding as though she were talking to Alyssa.

"Yes, Mom," Tanya teased, but she was so excited she i L could hardly

sit down when they got there.� The bus pulled into the parking lot,

bumping over ruts, and narrowly avoiding kids on horses But as soon as

Tanya got off the bus, they were waiting for her, not just fans, but

the same man and the officials who had approached her on Wednesday.

They wanted her to sing the anthem just one more time, just the way she

had, just the way God meant it to be sung, they said.� They were so

hokey that somehow they touched her.� She signed half a dozen

autographs while talking to them, and Hartley and Mary Stuart were

looking concerned, but they both knew that this was what her life

was.

And she hated to let her fans down.� In the end, she agreed to sing

again.� They had the same palomino for her, and this time she asked if

she could sing another song either before or after.� They suggested she

do it right after the anthem, and she wanted to sing "God Bless

America."� It was what the rodeo always made her think of.

"What about one of your own songs, Miss Thomas?"� the grand marshal

asked hopefully, but she said she wouldn't.� She didn't want to sing

her stuff with a high school band, without a rehearsal, and besides,

this wasn't the place for it.� It was "God Bless America" or nothing,

and they took it.

She went to find her seat with Mary Stuart and Hartley, and she looked

at the livestock pens, but she didn't see Gordon.� And a few minutes

later they came for her again.� People were looking at her, and she

knew they had recognized her, but other than a few kids, no one had

dared approach her.� And she went off to do her bit for them, wearing

blue jeans and a red shirt, and Mary Stuart had lent her her new red

cowboy boots that looked terrific.� They still wore the same shoe

size.

She was wearing her hair loose again, and a red bandanna around her

neck, and a number of heads turned as she walked by them.� Just

watching her you knew she was someone special.

"She's an amazing girl," Hartley said admiringly, as she strode away,

and he watched her make her way through the crowd, looking poised and

gracious.� She had a wonderful way about her that was both good manners

and kindness.� There was nothing of the prima donna about her.� "I

worry about her safety though.� There's something about the mentality

of rmusic fans that always unnerves me.� All I ever have to do is sign

a book or two, but people in her shoes bring out all the crazies."

"I always worry about her too," Mary Stuart admitted, keeping her eyes

glued on her.� She knew she was on the far side of the ring now, and

several riders were exercising their horses.

And then he asked her an odd question.� "You don't think it's serious,

do you, between her and the wrangler?"� He glanced around to make sure

no one had heard them.� But there was no one in the seats near them

whom they knew, and no one from the ranch sitting behind them.

"I don't know.� Why?"� Mary Stuart was worried that he knew something

she didn't.

"It just seems like an odd combination.� She's so sophisticated, and

he's from another world.� Her life must be very complicated.� I think

it would take someone pretty unusual to withstand that."

"That's true," she agreed, but he reminded ner so much of Bobby Joe, an

older, wiser version.� And she was sure that, even if only

unconsciously, Tanya sensed that.� "But he s a lot like her first

husband.� And she's not as sophisticated as she looks.� In some ways,

Tanya is part of all this.

The rest of her life just kind of happened.� In her heart of hearts,

she's just a kid from Texas.� Who knows?� It might work."� Who knew

about anything.� It was all blind luck.� And maybe nothing would ever

come of it, but she really hoped for Tanya's sake that it worked out

with Gordon And just as Mary Stuart thought of him, she saw him.� He

had climbed up on the railing above the bullpens, and was watching

Tanya get on her horse and say something to the grand marshal.

And as he sat there watching her, he couldn't believe his good

fortune.

This couldn't be happening to him, he told himself, it didn't work like

this.� People like Tanya Thomas just didn't get on a horse and ride off

into the sunset with you.� He kept trying to remind himself that it was

probably just a game for her, a fun part of her vacation, and yet he

knew from talking to her that she was genuine and sincere, and he

believed everything she told him.� Tlney had kissed and talked and

pawed each other outside her cabin until three o'clock that morning.

And now he sat looking at her prancing around the ring on the palomino

they'd loaned her, and the crowd fell instantly quiet.

There were a few screams, and he could hear some of the fans shout her

name, but as she looked at them, and moved around the ring, they fell

silent.� She had an amazing power and charisma.

And then she sang for them, the anthem as she'd promised them, and

then slowly she began to sing "God Bless America," until people

literally cried as they heard her.� She had a powerful voice that

floated up to the skies and enveloped all of them, and even Gordon

wiped his eyes when she was finished.� She smiled broadly at them all

then, and waved at them as she made the horse dance, and then she

galloped out of the ring with a good Texas yell and the crowd went

crazy.� If they could have followed her, they would have all run out of

the ring and grabbed her.� But she was careful this time.� She was off

the horse and gone before they knew it.� She kissed the grand marshal

on the cheek, and thanked him for letting her sing both songs, and then

she literally disappeared into the crowd as he started after her.� She

quickly took off the red shirt and tied it around her waist.� Under it,

she'd been wearing a white T-shirt.� It transformed her instantly, and

just as quickly she pulled her hair back, and braided it, and slipped a

rubber band on the end, and by the time she got to the bronc pens, she

looked completely different, and Gordon was surprised to see her.

"Well, that was a quick change," he said, admiring her, standing as

close to her as he dared, and aching to kiss her.

I "That's the whole idea."� She took his cowboy hat off and put it on

her head, and it disguised her even further.

"Good move," he said, and he was glad she was being careful.� "That was

a knockout," he said, referring to her singing.

"I've always thought that should be our anthem, instead of the Star

Spangled Banner."� I really like it."

"I like anything you sing," he said, still looking a little

awestruck.

You could sing Smoky the Bear' and you'd make me cry, Tanny."

"That's good to hear," she said, her eyes caressing him.� Then he

bought her a beer and they shared it.� She stood with one foot up on

the pen, drinking his beer, with his rodeo hat on, looking like a real

cowgirl.

"Tanny, you knock my socks off," he whispered, and she laughed at

him.

"You do a pretty good job on mine too," she teased, and they watched

the rodeo together for a little while, and then she went back to the

others so they wouldn't worry.� "Ride safe.� Tell the horse that if he

hurts you, I'll come back and shoot him."

'sYes, ma'am," he said, as she put his hat back on him, it would have

been the perfect moment to kiss her, but he was afraid to.� If there

were a photographer around, they'd be all over the papers.� He also

didn't know if Charlotte Collins was there that night.� And the cowboys

would have talked for sure.� They both knew they were better off

keeping their secret.

"I'll try and come back later.� Otherwise, come visit," she whispered

before she left.� He had promised that afternoon to come to her cabin

again, they loved to sit and talk and neck in the moonlight.� She had a

date with him the next morning.� She was going to take her bus into

Moose, and he'd pick her up there in his truck, and they'd spend the

day together.� There were a million places he wanted to show her.

She wished him luck again, and went back to her seat, where Mary Stuart

and Hartley had been waiting.� They hadn't spotted her in the crowd

from the moment she'd left the ring, but when she came back to them,

they could see why.� She had taken her shirt off and pulled her hair

back.

"That was smart," Mary Stuart praised her and asked where she'd been,

although she had a pretty good idea before Tanya told them.

"At the bronc pens," she said, sounding pure Texas, and Mary Stuart

laughed at her.

"I remember when you sounded like that all the time.� I used to love

it."

"I been in the big city too long," she said, pulling out her drawl, and

in spite of the change of costume, people around her were starting to

point and whisper.� Mary Stuart gave her her new dark blue hat to put

on, and Tanya hid quietly beneath it, keeping her eyes down.

She watched most of the events with interest, and then Gordon came

on.

He was riding bareback tonight, which was even harder and more

dangerous.� Tanya hated all of it, and most of all the breathless

feeling of watching him in midair being bounced around by a wild beast

that could easily have killed him.� Everything was going well until

suddenly the horse literally flew into the air, and did a jackknife

leap at the gate of the bullpen.� He was willing to do almost anything

to get rid of his rider, and did, he pounded Gordon against it, and

when he eventually fell off, the horse dragged him fifty feet by one

hand, but at last the pickup men got him.� He was doubled over when he

left the ring, and holding his arm.� But at the last moment, he turned

and waved, and she knew he had done it just for her, so she wouldn't

worry.� She wanted to run and find him and find out if he was all

right, but she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, so

she waited a little while, and watched him from where she was

sitting.

He had climbed back on the bullpen again, but he seemed to be nursing

the arm, and the announcer congratulated him on a real nice ride He got

the second highest score of the evening, but at what price glory.

L "You think he's all right?"� Tanya leaned over and asked Hartley.

"I think he is, probably.� They'd have taken him away or called for the

paramedics if he wasn't."� But it shocked all of them to see how many

of the cowboys left the ring obviously injured.� They limped out, they

held their backs, dragged their legs, cradled their arms, their heads

were banged, their guts were hurt, and they came back to do it again

three days later.� The announcer even congratulated one of them for

coming back after he'd gotten a "real bad concussion ridin' the bulls

on Wednesday."

As far as Tanya was concerned, it wasn't brave, it was just plain

stupid.� But this was the world they lived in.� Even the five year olds

were out in the ring during the intermission chasing raffle tickets and

tickets for free days at the county fair tied to the tails of calves

and young steers, and Mary Stuart kept complaining to Hartley that they

were going to get trampled.� But this was how they lived in Wyoming.

It was like the running of the bulls in Spain, it made sense to them.

But even to Tanya, who had lived in Texas, it all looked dangerous and

more than a little crazy.

"This macho shit is going to kill me," she said to Hartley as they

watched one young bull rider nearly get killed when the bull dropped

him unexpectedly and then stomped on what must have been his kidneys.

They called an ambulance for him, but he still crawled out of the ring,

nearly on hands and knees, with some assistance.� And the audience

cheered him.� "This is a lot worse than what I do," Tanya said, and

Hartley and Mary Stuart laughed.� And a little while later, she went

back to the bronc pens to check on Gordon.

"Are you okay?"� she asked with worried eyes when she got there.� She

had given Mary Stuart back her hat, because she didn't want to get it

dirty, or lose it if someone grabbed it from her.� That happened to her

sometimes.� People snatched articles of clothing from her and ran off

with them as souvenirs.� It was really annoying, and always scared her

a little.� "How's your arm?"� she asked him quickly, and he smiled at

her concern.

She could see that his hand was swollen, but he had put ice on it and

claimed he didn't feel it.

"You're lying, you big fool.� If I shook your hand right now, or held

it, you'd probably hit me."

"No, but I might cry a little bit," he teased, and she laughed at him

in spite of herself.

"You people are nuts," she scolded him.� "How's the guy who got stomped

by the bull?"

"He's okay.� He didn't want to go to the hospital.� He's pretty

tough.

He'll be peeing blood for a week, but he's used to it."

"If you keep doing this, I'm going to kill you," she said fiercely.

"It's bad for my nerves."

"You're good for my nerves," he said, moving closer to her, and she

could smell his aftershave mixed with the smell of horses.� He noticed

a couple of people watching her then, and turned so he would block her

from their line of vision.� It was Saturday, and there were more people

here tonight, and a lot of them were drinking.� "I want you to be

careful when you leave, Tan.� You hear?"

"Yes, sir," she said, and saluted.� She wasn't worried.� She liked to

think she was invisible, or that she wouldn't be recognized if she

didn't want to be and wouldn't make eye contact with them, but he knew

better.

"People know you're here, Tan.� Tell Hartley to get the cops to help

you out.� It's Saturday, and a lot of people are drunk out there."

"I'll be fine," she reassured him.� "I'll see you later."� She touched

his cheek then and disappeared, and he watched her for the rest of the

rodeo, sitting in the bleachers.� He didn't see her leave, because he

was talking to some of the other men.� They were talking about a cowboy

who'd been disqualified from the saddle broncs, and offered a reride

but refused it.� The politics of cowboys.

Mary Stuart and Hartley made their way out with Tanya between them, and

they could see the security nearby, keeping an eye on them, and several

of the local police.� And there were the usual cluster of fans, waving

pens and begging for autographs, and a number of them took pictures of

her, but it was all harmless, and Tanya didn't feel threatened.� And

they were twenty feet from the bus, when two men shoved their way in

front of her and there was a flash of cameras, and she noticed a TV

videocam just behind them.� They were the local newsmen and they wanted

to know what had made her sing the anthem, and if she'd been paid, had

she ever been to a rodeo before, and was she going to move to Jackson

Hole now.� She tried to be pleasant with them and still make her way in

a forward direction, but they provided a roadblock and she couldn't get

to the bus and she couldn't move them, and the security people were so

busy pushing back fans that they were helpless to assist them.� Hartley

tried moving the reporters on, but they provided a wall in front of

them, snapping photographs, taking videos and shooting questions at

her, and suddenly it was as though they had sent up flares.� All the

fans in the area realized where she was and what had happened, and she

couldn't get past the cameras to safety.� Tom had the bus door open for

her, but he was instantly shoved aside, and a dozen fans poured into

the bus past him, looking for her, grabbing things, trying to see what

they could, taking pictures.� And the police were suddenly shoving

everyone, as Tanya was pulled and her shirt was torn, someone yanked

her hair, and a drunk standing next to her tried to kiss her.� It was

terrifying, but through it all she kept trying to shove her way past

the newsmen but they wouldn't let her, and Hartley and Mary Stuart had

been separated from her by a seething mass of fans who wanted to tear

her limb from limb.� They didn't know what they were doing.� They just

wanted to have her.� The police had their bullhorns out by then, and

they were warning the crowd to stand back, and shouting at the

cameramen who had started it, and by then there were fifty people on

the bus and they were tearing down the curtains.� And as it was

happening, Tanya realized she was really in trouble.� She couldn't ,

get away from them, and they were pushing her, grabbing her, clawing

her.� There was no getting away from them, and in the midst of it all

she felt a powerful arm around her waist, and felt herself lifted off

the ground as she saw a hand punch someone, but she didn't know who it

belonged to.� She was being dragged along the ground, and then lifted

into the air, and half carried, half dragged toward a truck.� She

thought she was being successfully kidnapped, and then she saw that it

was Gordon.� He had lost his hat, and his shirt was torn too, but he

had a look in his eyes that said he was going to kill someone if they

touched her.� He was the only thing standing between her and real

destruction.

The police were far behind them.

"Come on, Tan, run!"� He shouted at her, pulling her along, as the

others tried to follow.� He had parked his truck as close as he could

to the crowd when he saw what was happening, and left the engine

running, and her feet pounded as hard as they could on the rough

ground, as four marshals on horseback galloped past them.� But they had

reached Gordon's truck by then, and he pushed her inside, leaped into

the driver's seat, and took off, nearly running over half a dozen

people and several horses.� But he didn't stop for anything.� There was

literally a riot behind them.� He kept his foot on the accelerator

until they were a mile away, and then he pulled over and stopped to

look at her.� They were both shaking.

"Thank you," she said in a trembling voice.� She was shaking from head

to foot.� It had been awful.� It had been one of the most dangerous

situations she'd been in recently, because the crowd was uncontrolled

and she didn't have adequate security to help her.� If he hadn't been

there, she might have gotten killed, or badly hurt, and they both knew

it.� "I think you saved my life," she said, trying not to cry as he

took a deep breath and looked at her, wanting desperately to protect

her.

"Don't tell me saddle broncs are more dangerous than that Give me some

mean son of a bitch horse any day compared to that stuff.� What happens

to people?� Those are perfectly normal folks out for a Saturday night

at the rodeo.� They take one look at you and they go nuts.� What is

that?"

"Crowd craze.� I don't know.� They want to own you, even if they have

to tear you apart to do it, even if they come back with just a piece of

you, a shirt, a piece of hair, an ear, a finger."� Her head hurt, so

many people had pulled her hair trying to get a piece of it to save.

It was truly an insane business.� She was smiling, but neither of them

thought it was funny.� She had hated leaving Mary Stuart and Hartley to

fend for themselves, but she couldn't help them and she knew the police

would.

"It was those goddamn photographers," Gordon said, putting an arm

around her and pulling her close to him.� She had just told him about

the pulled hair and he couldn't believe it.� "If they'd let you

through, you could have gotten on the bus and you'd have been okay.

But those assholes put up a roadblock so they could get a story."

"Well, they got one.� A lot better one than just asking me if I got

paid to do the anthem."

"Shit," he said, shaking his head.� He could just see the headline.

TANYA THOMAS CAUSES RIOT IN WYOMING.� He could see now how her life got

out of hand so easily.� He wondered how she stood it.� "Is this worth

it to you, Tan?"� he asked, looking at her, he honestly wondered why

she did it.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "sometimes.� It's what I do.� I used to

say I was going to retire, but I don't want to let them win.� Why let

them stop me from what I want to do just because they make my life

miserable?"

"Yeah, that's true.� But maybe you need to rethink this.� You got to

protect yourself somehow."

"I do.� At home I've got security and barbed wire, electric gates,

cameras, dogs, all that stuff," she said as though it were normal.

"Sounds like Texas State Prison.� I mean something else, some way that

people aren't going to rip your hair out of your head every time you go

buy yourself an ice cream."� He was L deeply impressed by what he'd

just seen and more sympathetic than she knew.� As far as he was

concerned, it was inhuman.

"Can you get me to a phone?"� she asked then, looking worried.� She

wanted to call Tom on the bus, and let him know she was all right and

hadn't been abducted by a stranger.� She'd been kidnapped by a friend,

she smiled at him, and told him what she thought when she first felt

his arm around her.� He had been so powerful she knew she had no hope

of resisting.

"Poor kid.� All I wanted to do was get you out of there as fast as I

could."

"And you did," she said gratefully as he stopped at a 7-Eleven.� He

watched carefully as she used the phone, to make sure no one had

recognized her, and Tom answered on the first ring.� Hartley, Mary

Stuart, and the police were waiting with him.� They knew that if she

was okay, she'd call the bus, and Hartley had suspected that it was

Gordon who had taken her, but he hadn't wanted to say it.� They had

said only that she had friends at the rodeo, and they were hoping she

had gone with them.� Mary Stuart was immensely relieved to hear her.

"Are you all right?"� she asked, still shaking herself.� It had been a

horrible experience even for them, and it reminded all of them of how

difficult Tanya's life was.

"I'm fine.� I look a mess, but nothing's broken.� It just scared me.

I'm really sorry, Stu.� Is Hartley mad?"� It was a miserable experience

to go through.� When she was single, before she and Tony were married,

there were guys who wouldn't go out with her, because they said trying

to take her to a movie was like college wrestling.

"Of course not," Mary Stuart said, incensed, "not at you.� He's furious

at the press for what they did.� He said he's going to call the owner

of the paper and the local news station tomorrow."

"Tell him not to bother.� I'm not even sure they were local.� Someone

may have tipped off the wire services, or cable TV.� I didn't see where

they were from.

It doesn't make any differ ence.� They won't do anything about it

anyway.� How bad does the bus look?"� Mary Stuart looked around, still

upset by what they'd done.� The fans had grabbed ashtrays, cushions,

broken some plates, torn the curtains down, but none of it couldn't be

repaired.� The driver said something to her and she repeated it to

Tanya.

"Tom said it's as bad as Santa Fe, but not nearly as bad as Denver or

Las Vegas.� Does this happen to you regularly?"� Mary Stuart looked

even more aghast at the list of comparisons.� Poor Tanya, what a

nightmare.

"It happens," Tanya said quietly.� "I'll see you later," but Gordon

touched her arm then.

"Don't make any promises," he said softly, blushing faintly.� He would

have suggested going to a roadhouse just for a drink so they could

relax, but he didn't dare.� He really wanted to take her to his place

to unwind, so they could talk and sit by a fire.� He didn't want to sit

outside with her tonight.� She'd been through too much, he wanted to

take her home and put his arms around her.� And who knew what might

happen.

Tanya read volumes in his eyes and nodded with a smile.

"Don't worry about me.� I might be home late.� I'm in good hands."

Mary Stuart knew Tanya was with Gordon.� "See you tomorrow then?"� she

teased, and Tanya laughed.

"You never know.� Give Zoe my love and tell her she picked a good night

to stay home.� And tell Hartley again how sorry I am."

"Stop apologizing.� We're sorry for you.� And thank our friend for

me.

He did a good job."

"He's a good man."� Tanya smiled at him as she stood in the phone

booth.

"I think so," Mary Stuart said softly.� "Take care of yourself, Tan.

We love you."

"I love you too, Stu.� Good night," she said, and hung up, and then

turned to him and he put his arms around her.� He just stood there

holding her, and then he put her in his truck, and drove her home to

the little cabin behind the corral.� He drove in as quietly as he could

and turned the lights off, and they sat there for a moment.� It had

been quite a night for both of them, and Tanya was still feeling

shaken.� His bronco ride had been nothing compared to what came

later.

"Are you okay, Tanny?"� he asked gently.

"Yeah.� I think so."� They were about a quarter mile from her cabin,

but she had no desire to go there.� "Stuff like that always shakes me

up for a while."

"Do you want to come in?"� he asked.� He would have understood if she

didn't, if she wanted to go home and go to bed.� But he wanted to be

with her, and even though this wasn't allowed, it was better than being

seen coming out of her cabin.� He would have lost his job in either

case if sormeone saw them together, but Gordon had decided days before

that he thought she was worth it.� "You don't have to do anything you

don't want to, Tanny," he said kindly.� "I'll take you back up to the

cabin if you like."

"I'd like to come in," she said quietly.� She wanted to see where he

lived, what he had, what he liked, she just wanted to be with him.

"I think everyone's out, but we need to be kind of quiet about it."

She knew how much trouble he'd be in if someone saw them, and she

worried about it.� The other cabins were nearby, although his was less

accessible than most.� But she didn't want anyone to see them.

"Is this all right for you?"� she asked with worried eyes, and he

smiled the smile that tore her heart out.

"About as all right as it gets," he said, and then got out of the

truck, and strode quickly into his cabin.� She followed him in and he

locked the door, pulled down the shades and turned on the lights, and

she was surprised at how orderly it was, and how pleasant.� She had

expected it to look a lot rougher and a lot more disheveled.� The cabin

itself, as it had been provided to him, was nicely decorated, with a

denim couch and Western decor, and all around the room he had put

photographs of his son, his parents, a horse he'd loved.� There were

books and magazines in neat piles, some tools in a neat box, and an

entire bookcase filled with music.� She was surprised by how many

albums of hers he had, but she also liked his other choices.

There was a living room, a large kitchen with a dining area, and that

was neat too, though the refrigerator was all but empty.� He had what

she called bachelor food.� Peanut butter, an avocado, two lemons and a

tomato, some soda water, a lot of beer, and a lifetime supply of Oreo

cookies.

"You must not do a lot of cooking."� She laughed.

"I eat in the staff dining room," he said, pointing out, as he pulled

out a refrigerator bin, that he also had eggs, bacon, jam, butter, and

English muffins.

"I'm impressed," she laughed, and he put a pot on for some coffee.� He

had whiskey and wine and offered her both, but she said she wasn't a

drinker, although after the fracas at the rodeo he thought a shot of

whiskey might have done her good, but she said she didn't want it.� And

as she walked out of the kitchen again, with a mug of coffee in her

hand, she glimpsed his bedroom.� It looked small and spare.� There was

a bed, a dresser, and a large comfortable chair.� He pointed out that

he didn't spend a lot of time there.� But it was nice being in his

world, seeing where he lived, and she felt surprisingly at home

there.

It was nicer than a lot of homes she had seen in her lifetime.

"It's almost as big as the house I grew up in when I was a kid," he

said, smiling.� "There were two bedrooms, my parents had one of them,

and there were six of us kids in the other."

"Sounds like where I grew up," she smiled.� "I'd probably still be

there, if I hadn't gotten a music scholarship to Berkeley.� That

changed my life," she said, thinking back, and to the women she had met

there.

"You changed mine," he said softly, as they sat down on the couch, and

he put an arm around her.� And a few minutes later, he put on some

music.� It was so peaceful there, she I couldn't imagine any harm ever

coming to her with him.� She felt completely safe and totally

protected.� They started to kiss again after a while, and all the

terror and the relief and the sheer horror of what had happened that

night seemed to flow away from her as he held her.

They kissed for a long time, and then he looked at her.� He didn't want

to do anything she didn't want, or would regret later.� At any time, he

would have taken her back to her cabin if that was what she wanted.

"Tanny?"� His voice was gentle in the dark.� He had turned off the

lights and lit a fire, and the music lulled them as they held each

other and kissed and slowly discovered each other's bodies.� "Are you

all right with this, Tanny?� I don't want to do anything you don't

want," he whispered.

"I'm fine," she said softly, and kissed him again, giving him her whole

heart, her whole soul, and he lay on the couch next to her, and slowly

peeled off her torn T-shirt.� And as he took off her clothes, he was

overwhelmed by the beauty of her body.� She was like a young girl in

his hands, she was tanned and honed, and had limbs that never seemed to

end, and they both lay there naked side by side as he smiled at her.

He had never been happier in his life, or loved a woman more, as she

wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave in to what he had wanted

almost since the day he met her.

They went into his bedroom after that, and she slept in his arms, and

when he awoke at dawn and looked down at her, he wondered if he was

dreaming, if this was all a fantasy and it would end by morning.

She would go back to Hollywood and forget she'd ever met him.� But as

he thought about it, she opened her eyes and looked up at him and told

him how much she loved him.

"I'm scared," he said in the soft light of dawn.� He had never admitted

that to anyone before, but he said it to her, just as she told him all

her secrets.� "What if this never happened?� .� . . What if it all goes

away again, what if .� .."

"Stop it .� . . I love you .� .."� she said.� "I'm not going

anywhere.

I'm just a girl from Texas," she smiled, "don't you forget that."� He

laughed in the soft morning light, and they made love again, and it was

ten o'clock when they woke up again, and she strolled into his living

room stark naked.

"Oh, my God," he said, staring at her.� "How did this happen to me?"

He sat on the edge of the bed with a look of amazement, and she laughed

happily.

"I think we both figured it was a good idea, some time around

midnight.

Or were you drunk?"� she teased, but he still looked awestruck.

"I don't mean that .� . . I mean look at you.� Lawd, lawd .� . . look

at that woman.� It's Tanya Thomas walkin' buck naked around my living

room holding a cup of coffee from my kitchen."� She laughed at the way

he said it, and he laughed too.� It was a crazy thought, all of it.

Him, her, the place her life had gotten to, the fact that people wanted

to tear her clothes off and rip her hair out.

"You look pretty good to me too," she grinned, and she proved it to him

in his living room on the floor and on his couch, and then back in his

bed.� He was torn between spending the day making love to her and

showing her all the things he wanted to share with her.� It was a tough

decision, but he told her that the best time for them to leave would be

when everyone went to lunch.� So at noon, they made a quiet getaway,

and much to their delight no one saw them.� She was wearing her jeans,

an old hat, and she tied an old workshirt of his just beneath her

breasts.� She looked spectacular, and he shook his head in mock

amazement at his fate, as she put on the radio and turned up the

music.

She had left a message for the others at the ranch that she'd be back

sometime that night.� She wanted to spend the whole day with him, and

she did.

They'd gone to a waterfall that day, and he had driven her high into

the mountains.� The view had been incredible, and they had gone for a

long, long walk, while he talked about his childhood, his family, his

dreams.� She had never felt as comfortable with anyone in her life.

And on their way back to ?.

town, he stopped at an old ranch.� He said it had been one of the

finest in town once, but the owner had died, and it wasn't showy enough

for the kind of people coming to Jackson Hole now.� A couple of movie

stars had looked at it, and some German guy.� Gordon knew the

realtors.

It was being offered at a fair price, and it needed some work, but most

people thought it was too far out of town and too rustic.� It was about

forty minutes from Jackson Hole, and it looked like something in an old

cowboy movie to Tanya.� They walked around and peeked inside.

It had a good-size ranch house, and three or four decent cabins for

employees.� It had stables that were in disrepair, and a big handsome

barn, it needed some fixing up, but the meat was there, and it was

obvious to Tanya that Gordon loved it.

"I'd like to buy a place like this myself one day," he said, squinting

out at the mountains.� You could look right down into the valley from

where they were standing.� There were some beautiful rides, and it was

good land for horses.

"What would you do with it?"

"Fix it up.� Breed horses probably.� There's good money in that.� But

you've got to have start-up money to do it."� It seemed a shame to him

that no one had ever bought the place.� He thought they were all

missing the point.� And Tanya agreed with him.� She liked the

ruggedness of it, and she could just imagine hiding away in a place

like that all winter.

You could do great things with the ranch house.

"Could you get in and out of here in the snow?"� she asked, and he

nodded.

"Sure.� The road is good.� You could get out easily with a snowplow.

You'd have to send some of the horses south, but you could probably

keep some here, with a heated barn."� And then he laughed at himself

for making plans with a ranch he didn't own.� But Tanya was glad he'd

shared it with her.

They drove around for a while after that, and then he took her to

dinner at an old ramshackle restaurant half an hour out of town, where

a lot of old cowboys hung out.� There were fancier places he would have

taken her to, but he was afraid that anywhere they went, people would

recognize her, and they'd start another riot.� But she liked the funny

old place they went to, and after that they went back to his place.

She'd had a great time, and knew she should go back, but she didn't

want to.� She sat in his living room with him, listening to music.� And

then, for the fun of it, he put on his favorite CD of her singing, and

she sang it for him, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.� He

felt sure that he was dreaming, he said, and she laughed at him.

"No, you're not," she laughed, and started to take his clothes off.

"Yes, I am," he said, laughing too, "this is a fantasy, just look at

what I'm dreaming .� . . I'm listening to Tanya and she's taking my

clothes off .� .."

"No, she's not," she denied what was happening, as he took hers off

too, "and you're not taking hers off either .� .."� They were

laughing, and playing with each other and kissing, and he couldn't

believe how much he loved her or how she excited him.� And a minute

later, they wound up back in his bedroom.� And they didn't look at the

clock again until long after midnight.

"Maybe I should just move my things in here," she said sleepily, with a

deep, sexy voice that drove him wild, and he smiled, thinking of what

she had done to him and how much he liked it.

"I'm sure Mrs. Collins would be glad to help us.� I'll just tell

her I'm offering you my cabin for the rest of the week."� They both

laughed.

"Or you could move in with us."

"That would be nice," he approved, and she started making love to him

again, as he moaned and writhed beneath her tongue and fingers.� "Oh,

God .� . . that is nice, Tanny .� .."� They lay together until the

dawn, and then she knew she had to get Up before someone saw her.� But

she hated to leave him.

"I don't want you to," he said sadly, watching her dress after he

showered with her in his tiny bathroom.� And that had almost started

everything again, but this time he knew they couldn't.� "What am I

going to do when you go?"� he asked, looking like a lost child, and she

smiled at him.� She wanted so badly to be with him.� And she knew he

was referring to Sunday when she had to leave for L.A to continue

fighting her battles.

"Why don't you come with me?"� she asked, knowing it was a wild idea,

but she didn't want to leave him either.� But he was far wiser than she

was.

"And how long would that last?� What would I do?� Answer the phone?

Carry in flowers for you?� Answer fan mail?� Be your bodyguard?� You'd

hate me after a little bit, and so would I. No, Tanny," he said sadly,

"I don't belong there."

"Neither do I," she said unhappily, not sure how to resolve the

problem.

"But it's your life, not mine.� You'd hate me after a while."� He was

smart.� That was exactly what had happened to Bobby Joe.� He had truly

detested her by the time he went back to Texas.� "I don't want to do

that."

"So what happens to us?"� she asked, looking panicked.

"I don't know.� You tell me.� I could come to visit once in a while,

for as long as you could stand it, or I could.� You could come back

here.� You could get yourself a place here, it might do you good.� A

place to come to and get sane again after the kind of lunacy we saw the

other night.

If you lived here, it'd be different.� You could live here part of the

year, Tan .� . . and I'd be here waiting for you.� If I had a life with

you here, going to L.A. with you would make some kind of sense.� I'll

do anything you want, stay, let go, disappear, wait for you, I just

don't want to go L.A give up my whole life, and watch you come to hate

me."

"I could never do that," she said honestly.� She hadn't hated Bobby Joe

either.

"I'd hate myself and you'd know that.� Come back here," he said,

winding his arms around her, and bringing her so close to him that she

couldn't breathe as he kissed her.� "I'll be here, waiting for you.

Forever, if you want."

"Will you come to L.A. sometimes, really?"� She was worried about him

now.� What if she never saw him again?� If he forgot her the moment she

was gone, if he moved on to another ranch, another town, another

singer?

She was every bit as frightened as he was.

"Sure I will," he reassured her about coming to L.A. "As long as it's

just for a visit.� What about your living here, at least part-time?"

"I've never thought about anything like that," she said honestly,

gixing it some thought.� "I kind of like it."

"I think you'd love it."

"If I bought a ranch, would you run it for me?"

"Yeah," he said, thinking about it, as they sat on his bed, talking.

"But I don't want to be your employee."

"What does that mean?"� she asked, looking puzzled.

"It means I don't want you to pay me," he said quietly, and she could

see in his eyes he meant it.

"How are you going to live then?"� She was worried about him, and she

wanted to work it out with him.� There had to be a way they could do

it.

"I've got some money saved up.� I haven't worked all these years for

nothing.� I could buy some horses, do some breeding, do some extra work

here on the ranch.� I could work for room and board at your place.� We

could work it out," he said, pulling her close to him again.� "I'm not

worried about it."� He was feeling better again, he loved her so much,

he knew he could do anything with her, as long as they were on equal

terms, just so he didn't wind up feeling like one of her employees.

But she liked his ideas, and she was thinking about it while he kissed

her.

"I don't want to leave you," she said again.� He knew she meant that

week and not that morning.

"Then don't," he said hoarsely, wanting to make love to her again.� He

had never had another relationship like this one.� It challenged him to

his very soul, and physically she drove him crazy.� "Don't go."

"I have to.� I've got a bunch of engagements for the next few weeks,

and I have to cut a record."� And then she thought of the concert tour

she'd agreed to.� She told him about it while she got dressed, and he

listened.

"Gordon, would you come with me?"� It would mean exposing him to the

press, but sooner or later they both knew that would happen, just so

long as they were ready for it.

"I'd come if you want me to," he said, thinking.� In a funny way, it

appealed to him, in another way, it didn't.� He wanted to be with her,

and to protect her from all the garbage she went through.� But the idea

of being part of all that really scared him.� But he knew that if he

was going to be with her, he had to at least share in her world some of

the time.� He couldn't expect her to spend all her time hiding with him

in Wyoming.� "I'd do it," he said, and she kissed him.� "I don't know

what we're going to do, Tan.� Your life is pretty complicated, but

we'll work it out if we have to."� And then he asked her an odd

qutstion.

"What about kids?� How come you never had one?"� He had been wondering

about that since he met her.� She was such a warm, caring person that

it seemed strange to him she'd never had children.

"The time was never right.� I was always married to the wrong person at

the wrong time, being pushed around by managers and agents.� They

probably would have killed me if I'd gotten pregnant."� He nodded, it

made sense to him, but he was sorry for her.� He thought she would have

been a good mother.

"Would you still want one?"� he asked, looking at her thoughtfully, and

she was startled by his question.

"I don't know," she said honestly, "I did a few years ago."� She had

tried to talk Tony into it, but he hadn't wanted more kids, and he said

it was too much trouble.� "My doctor thought it might take some real

effort at my age."� But just his asking about it made her think about

it again, and she was surprised to realize, the idea was appealing.

And then she laughed, he was certainly turning her life around.� He was

trying to talk her into moving to Wyoming, living on a ranch, and

having a baby.� She said as much to him and he laughed.� "Talk about a

change of lifestyle.� I feel like Heidi."

And then she looked at him honestly.� "I might want a kid, would it

matter if I didn't?"

"Whatever you want," he said, leaning over to kiss her again and

starting to take her clothes off, but they both knew she had to leave

before the ranch came alive and everyone started working.� "I just

think it would be great to have a child with you," he said.� He hadn't

felt that way in years.� He hadn't felt any of this, and then she told

him about Zoe's baby, and asked how he'd feel about it if Zoe left Jade

to her.� She had meant to ask earlier but never had the chance.� But he

didn't see any problem with it.� As tar as he was concerned, that was

up to Tanya.

It took all the strength she had to tear herself away from him, and

finally she was dressed, and he was in his jeans and barefoot, standing

in his living room.� He was holding her in his arms, and he never

wanted to let her go, not for a single minute.� It was six o'clock, and

in three hours, they'd be riding together again, but she didn't want to

leave him.

"I can't leave you for three hours," she said with huge eyes looking

into his.� "How am I going to leave you on Sunday?"

"I don't know the answer to that either."� He closed his eyes and held

her for a long moment.� "You'd better go though."� He glanced at his

watch, and he knew that any minute the wranglers would leave their

cabins for the corral, and most of the employees would leave for

breakfast.� "Will you come back tonight?"� He looked at her with

worried eyes, and she smiled.

"What do you think?"� She kissed him good-bye, and with a wave she was

gone, hurrying up the road in the early morning sunlight, as the first

fingers of sunshine streaked across the top of the mountains.� She

looked Up as she walked along, thinking of him, and the time she had

spent with him.� He was everything she had ever wanted, and never

expected to find.� And now, suddenly here he was in Moose, Wyoming.

There was a lot to think about now, to figure out, to plan, to

decide.

All she knew for sure was that, in a single week, a cowboy from Texas

had changed her life forever.

On Monday morning, when sTanya got back, Zoe was already up and making

herself a cup of coffee.� She was feeling fine again, not even as tired

as she had been before she had come to Wyoming.� And she looked up when

she saw Tanya come in, and wagged her finger at her.

"And what have you been up to?� Let me guess .� . . a religious

retreat!"

It was a lie Zoe had once told for her, to cover for her with her

parents, when she had gone away for the weekend with a boyfriend.

"How did you guess?"� Tanya laughed, beaming from ear to ear, not just

because of the fantasies she and Gordon had shared for the past

thirty-six hours, but the feelings she'd discovered for him.

"Does this mean you're giving up Hollywood, and moving to Wyoming?"

"Not yet," Tanya said, helping herself to a cup of coffee.

"Is this just a passing affair, or should I be hearing wedding

bells?"

After only a week it was more than a little premature, but the ranch

seemed to have a remarkable effect on the people who met there.

"I think that's a little soon," Tanya said sensibly, "and he's smarter

than Bobby Joe.� But then again, he's a lot older.� He says he won't

come to L.A except to visit."

"Good for him," Zoe approved.� "It would eat him up in about five

minutes.� I'm glad he's smart enough to know that.� It's not that I

don't think he's up to it.� I just don't think he'd like it."

"Neither does he.� He got a taste of it the other night, and I think it

turned him off forever."

Zoe nodded seriously.� "Mary Stuart told me.� Tom called last night, he

said the bus is okay again.� He was able to replace or fix everything

but the curtains."

"Do you believe that?"� Tanya asked in disgust, just as Mary Stuart

joined them, looking sleepy.

"Believe what?� Hi, Tan, how's your sex life?"

"Be sure not to beat around the bush, will you?"� Tanya laughed.� She

loved the relationship they shared, and it was so wonderful being back

together.

"So how is he?"� Mary Stuart asked with interest.

"Will you stop!"� Tanya hit her with a pillow, and Mary Stuart laughed

mischievously.� She wanted all the details.

"Look, I haven't slept with my husband in a year.� Now I'm involved

with a guy who doesn't think we should do it till I figure out if I'm

getting divorced or not, what else is there for me to do except live

vicariously through my friends?"� She turned her glance then to Zoe.

"That goes for you too.� Any action with Sam when you get back, I want

to know it."

"Hopefully, by then, you'll be getting yours too."� Zoe gave it right

back to her and they all laughed.

"God, we're all a mess, aren't we?"� Mary Stuart shook her head as she

assessed them, but the truth was, they knew they weren't.� They had all

had good lives, but hard ones, enormous advantages and tremendous

pains, they had paid high prices for all the blessings they had had,

and now was no different.

Each one of them had to leap through a hoop of fire in some way, to get

what they wanted.

"Actually, I think we're pretty great," Tanya said, looking at her two

best friends with pride.� "And I love you both, just in case you want

to hear it."

"Ahhh .� . . the postcoital haze of love for mankind .� .."� Mary

Stuart said, and Tanya hit her with the pillow again.

"You're disgusting," Tanya said, still laughing, and then she looked at

her friends again, wanting to share at least something with them.� She

could hardly stand it.� "I'm in love with him," she said, glancing from

one to the other and they both laughed, but Zoe answered.

"No kidding," she said.� "We figured that out."

"I don't mean, I'm just lusting for him, I mean I love him."� They were

both quiet then, as they watched her, and Mary Stuart spoke to her

gently.

"Your life is awfully complicated, Tan.� Make sure he can make it

better for you instead of worse.� Make sure he can handle it before you

leap off the cliff hand in hand."

"I will," Tanya said, but it was Gordon who was being truly careful.

"He's scared to death of all that.� He's smart that way."

"I'm glad," Mary Stuart said, and then told them the plan she'd made

with Hartley.� "I'm going to London."

"Back to Bill?"� Tanya looked startled, wondering what had happened in

her absence.

"No, just to talk to him," Mary Stuart explained.� "was going to

wait until the end of the summer, but I don't want to.� I guess I knew

what I wanted to do when I left New York.� There's really no point

waiting."

"Are you sure?"� Tanya asked her quietly.� They were all making such

enormous decisions.

"Very much so."

"Does he know you're coming?"

Mary Stuart shook her head in answer.� "I thought I'd call him in a few

days."

"What if he tells you not to come?"

"I'm not giving him the option," she said simply.� "Those days are

over."

"Amen," Zoe said, always the independent spirit among them.

"How's Sam?"� Tanya asked as she went to get dressed.

"Still crazy," Zoe said with a broad smile, and then she told them she

was going into town that afternoon to see some of John Kroner's

patients.

"I thought you were supposed to be on vacation," Mary Stuart scolded.

"It's no big deal.� I'd really like to do it."

"When are you going in?"� Tanya asked with interest.

"I thought I'd ride this morning, have lunch with all of you, and then

go into town.� Charlotte Collins said someone could give me a ride."

"I'll take you on the bus, I want to go into town myself this afternoon

to do some errands."� She asked Mary Stuart if she wanted to go into

town too, but she said she wanted to stay with Hartley.� And with that,

they all went to get ready.� It was almost like getting dressed for

classes every morning, and they reached the stable looking bright and

fresh-faced a little over an hour later, after breakfast.� Gordon was

disappointed to hear that Tanya had other plans that afternoon.� She

said she had to go into town with Zoe.

"Will you come back to the cabin tonight?"� he asked, looking like a

kid, as they rode ahead of the others.

"If you'll have me," she said, and they exchanged a look that would

have been worth millions to the tabloids.

"I love you," he whispered, and she answered him, and then they loped

across the field side by side in total harmony.� It was as though in

the past day and a half their souls had been welded together.� She felt

bonded to him, and he would have followed her to the ends of the earth,

anywhere except L.A she teased him, as they headed back to the

others.

"I told you, I'll come for a visit."

"When?"� she asked, pinning him down, knowing how busy she'd be for the

next month.� But he explained that he couldn't leave the ranch now for

more than one day a week till the end of August.

"When can you come back here?"� he asked, more to the point, but she

didn't have much spare time either.� She ran through her commitments in

her head, and figured out that she had a free week at the beginning of

August.

"I could be back in three weeks," she said, and he nodded as Hartley

joined them.� The doctors from Chicago had left that weekend, as had

Benjamin and his parents.

"That seems like forever," Gordon whispered to her before Hartley could

hear them.� But it did to her too.� But there was nothing she could do

for the moment.� She had free time again in September, and he could

come back to L.A. with her.� It was going to be interesting.� Commuting

to Moose, Wyoming.

"It's beautiful today, isn't it?"� Hartley said, looking up at a

Wedgwood sky as Gordon and Tanya grinned at each other and nodded.

They had a good ride till noon, and then went in to lunch, but Gordon

didn't join them.� His horse had thrown a shoe, and he had paperwork to

take care of.� New guests had come in the day before, and although he

didn't have to ride with them, since he was already assigned to Tanya's

group, he still had to make sure that the other wranglers were doing

their jobs and there were no problems with the horses.� In the end, it

was just as well that Tanya was busy that afternoon, since two women

from New York fell off their horses during a loping lesson in the

corral, and he had to take a mare to the vet that had sprained her

ankle.

Tanya dropped Zoe off at the hospital that afternoon, and John Kroner

was waiting for her, and then she went off to do her errand.� She had

made an appointment that morning.� And it worked out perfectly.

Everything was taken care of in time for her to get some shopping done

too.� She bought a pair of turquoise cowboy boots, and picked Zoe up in

plenty of time L to get back to the ranch for dinner.� They were

waiting for her outside when Tom pulled up in the bus, and John Kroner

waved when they left.� Zoe looked tired, but pleased, as she lay down

on the couch across from Tanya.

"How was it?"� Tanya asked with a warm smile.

"Interesting.� He has some very nice patients," Zoe said, and they had

been so grateful to meet her.� It was almost embarrassing, and the

staff had made a huge fuss over her.� But she had really gotten to like

John Kroner.� She had invited him to join them for dinner one night

with his friend.� He was a radiologist and had moved to Jackson Hole

the previous year from Denver.� They were nice young guys, and had both

been extremely kind to Zoe.� "I really like him."

"Is this competition for Sam?"� Tanya raised an eyebrow at her, "or is

he too young for us?"� she teased her old friend, and Zoe laughed at

her assumption.

"Neither, you dolt, he's gay, or hadn't you noticed?"

"Actually," Tanya looked at her thoughtfully, "I hadn't.� Oh, well.

You've got Sam.� What more do you want?"� She was in great spirits, and

Zoe laughed at her as they rode back to the ranch.

"You're hopeless.� What did you do today?"

"Just some errands and stuff."� The shops were great and they had all

bought suedes and leathers and cowboy hats on their previous

excursions.

"I got some great turquoise cowboy boots."

"I'm sure they'll look great at Spago.� You've been here too long.� I

did that once in Aspen.� Knee-high pink cowboy boots that I somehow

convinced myself would look great at the hospital.� I still have them,

brand-new, never worn, in the back of my closet."� The two of them

chatted and laughed all the way back to the ranch, and when they

arrived, Hartley and Mary Stuart were having a quiet conversation in

the cabin.� They never seemed to run out of things to talk about, and

it was obvious when the other two came in, that the couple had been

kissing.� It was like interrupting teenagers making out on the couch,

and Mary Stuart blushed at a raised eyebrow from Tanya.

"Stop that!"� she said under her breath to Tanya as she went to get

Hartley a Cocatola.

"What did I do?"� Tanya said, feigning innocence, but they were all

like kids again, and it felt terrific.� It was a muchneeded

counterpoint to the far too serious traumas of their lives, from

suicide to divorce to AIDS to tabloids.� And a little teasing and fun

and romance between them was not only harmless but therapeutiw.

"What are we doing tonight?"� Zoe asked as she sat down, tired after an

afternoon of seeing patients, but exhilarated by her conversatiorl with

John Kroner.� "Tango lessons?� Snake dance?� Anything exciting going

on?"

The ranch provided a fair amount of entertainment, although Tanya and

her friends didn't always join in, mostly so Tanya could keep her

distance.

"I think it's just regular dinner," Mary Stuart explained, and then

glanced at Tanya.� It was her turn to raise an eyebrow.� "Will yosu be

joining us tonight, Ms.� Thomas?"

"Of course," Tanya said innocently.� "Why wouldn't I?"

"Would you like me to answer that?"� Mary Stuart grinned wickedly and

Tanya looked prim.

"No, thank you."� She was leaving them after dinner to join Gordon, but

they didn't know that.

They had a pleasant dinner, the four of them, and Zoe went to bed early

after her busy afternoon.� Hartley and Mary Stuart decided to go into

town for a movie, and by eight o'clock, Tanya was walking down the road

to the corral in her old yellow cowboy boots, and her blue jeans and a

big white sweater.� She thought she could smell smoke in the air, and

wondered if someone was having a cookout.

She had thought to put a cowboy hat on so no one would see her face

quite so easily, and when she got to his door, she knocked once and

slipped inside.� She didn't want to hang around outside the cabin.� And

he was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and waiting for her.

z j _L "What took you so long?"� he asked expectantly, looking like a

kid waiting for Santa Claus, and she laughed softly as she locked the

door behind her.� He had already drawn the shades and pulled the

curtains to keep their secret.

"What took me so long?� Dinner was at seven, and it's five after

eight.

I thought that was pretty good.� I almost ran here."

"Next time eat faster," he said with a broad boyish grin as he stood up

to kiss her, and a moment later she was locked in his arms, and they

both had their clothes off.� They never even made it to the bedroom,

but lay on the couch, making love, in front of the TV, oblivious to

what the announcer was saying, and it was only afterward, as they lay

there for a while, talking quietly, that he realized they were saying

there was a fire on Shadow Mountain, and he sat up to listen.

"Is that close by?"� she asked, noticinz the worry on his face.

"Right above us."� He was listening intently to what they were saying,

and suddenly she remembered smelling smoke in the air when she'd been

walking down to the cabin to see Gordon.

The announcer said that the fire was confined to a small area, but the

winds had just picked up, and the parks department people were

worried.

He made reference to a fire in Yellowstone several years before, and

showed old footage of utter devastation.� And then they went back to

the normal program.

"They may call us out tonight," he said quietly, looking at her.� He

was concerned for the ranch, and thinking about the horses.

"Would you rather I didn't stay here tonight?"� she asked.� She would

have understood if he said she should go back to her own cabin.

"I don't see why not," he smiled.� "No one has to know you're here.

They're not going to evacuate the ranch unless it turns into a real big

one."� He went outside for a minute to look up at the sky.� He could

see some smoke, but there was no glow from the fire, and he wasn't

worried.� And when he came back inside, he was more interested in Tanya

than Shadow Mountain.

He played some of his favorite music for her, and played with an old

guitar, and she sang softly for him, so no one would hear them.� She

loved it when they sang together, and he laughed, as he touched her

face with a gentle hand.

"It's just like singing to records."� They sang together again, and

they shared a sandwich around midnight.� He had gone to buy some

groceries that afternoon after his ride with Mary Stuart and Hartley,

and he told Tanya how much he liked them.� "They've got something

going, don't they?", he smiled.� He had spotted it from the first

morning.� "Is she divorced?"

"She will be.� She's leaving her husband.� I think she's going to

London next week to tell him."

"Is he English?"� She shook her head, he was interested in her friends

and her life, and the things she cared about.� He was interested in

everything about her.

"He's working there for the summer," Tanya explained.

"Why's she leaving him?"� They were sitting at his kitchen table, when

he asked her.

And Tanya sighed as she thought about it.� "Her son killed himself last

year.� I don't know all the details, but I think her husband blames her

for it.� She didn't do anything to provoke him to it, I just think Bill

doesn't know who else to blame.

Their marriage pretty much fell apart after it happened."

"Maybe it wasn't all that solid before that."

"Maybe," she said softly, but she didn't agree with him.� "I think it

was.� I just think it was too much of a blow for them.

And now she's too hurt by what her husband's done.� I think I , it's

pretty well finished."

"You think she and Mr.� Bowman will wind up together?"

"I hope so," Tanya smiled, with a gentle hand on Gordon's arm "What

about us?� You think we will?"

"We'd better," he said, leaning closer to her, and looking into her

eyes.� "If you try to get away from me now, I'm going to come riding

down Hollywood Boulevard on one of those saddle broncs, and come and

get you."� The image was wonderful and she laughed at him.

"I thought you were giving them up."

"Not till I come and get you."� They were both laughing, and she stood

in his kitchen naked, with her long legs, wearing his shirt open as she

washed his dishes.� It was a photograph he would have loved to have,

but he knew he'd remember it forever.� She was so down-to-earth he

couldn't get over it.� She was just what she claimed, a plain old girl

from Texas, but she sure as hell didn't look it, and no one else in the

world would have believed it for a minute.� "You blow me away," he

said, standing behind her, as he put his arms around her waist, and

leaned his chin on her shoulder.� "Next week, I'm going to think I was

hallucinating all this time."� It made her sad to think about a time

when she wouldn't be there.

"Will you call me?"

"I'll try," he said, and she put the dishes down and turned around and

they were belly to belly.

"What do you mean, you'll try'?� Will you call me or won't you?"� She

looked worried.

"I'll call you.� I just don't like phones all that much.� But I'll

call."

He didn't have a phone in his cabin, and he didn't want to use the

ranch phone, and give them a record of it.� Most of the time they just

paid for their calls at the end of the month.� He'd have to go to the

7-Eleven.

And it worried her even more that she couldn't call him.� It wasn't a

great situation.� "You'll just have to come back quick, that's all."

"I promise.� Three weeks, if I can.� I've got to move some things

around."� She had already called Jean, and asked her to do it, and now

she had more reason to than ever.� "And you better come to L.A. after

the summer," she warned in a sexy undertone, but he was grinding

against her, and distracting her from what they were saying.

"I will, I swear.� I'll tell Charlotte I need time off at the end of

August."� She had already started to figure out gaps in her schedule

ng.� She could fly straight into Jackson

Hole if she changed planes in Salt Lake City or Denver.� It was

certainly an interesting prospect, and she loved it.

They went to bed shortly after that, and were lying in each other's

arms, having just made love again, when they heard a pounding on the

door, and Tanya jumped about a foot.� Gordon grabbed his jeans and ran

to the door as he climbed into them.� He pulled open the door as soon

as he had them on and saw one of the ranch hands.

"The park service just called.� We have to evacuate."

"Now?"� Gordon looked stunned, but when he looked up at the sky, he

could see that over Shadow Mountain it was bright orange.� "Why didn't

they warn us?"

"They put us on standby around midnight, but Charlotte thought they'd

have it in control by now.� The wind just changed," he explained.

There was a brisk breeze, and he saw lights coming on in all the other

houses.

"Charlotte's rounding up the guests.� We have to get the horses and run

them down the valley."� There was another ranch nearby, and they'd done

it before, but it was dangerous to move that many animals with so much

speed.� Either the people or the horses could get injured.

"I'll be out in five minutes," he told the boy, and went back inside to

talk to Tanya.� He locked his door again, so no one could burst in, and

he told her as quickly as he could what had happened.� "They'll move

you to another ranch," he explained.� "If you call your driver, he can

come out and get you.� I've got to get the horses.� We've got two

hundred head to get out as fast as we can," he said, moving quickly,

and then he stopped for an instant and kissed her.� "I love you, Texas

girl, don't worry about us, we're going to make this thing work, even

if I have to go to Hollywood to do it."� He knew she was worried, and

he was concerned too, but he was determined to do it.� But now he had

to turn his mind to other things.� "Get dressed," he told her before he

left.� "Just stay off the road, go alongside it in the tall grass and

no one will see you.� They're too busy to worry about you right now.

Go back to your cabin.� I'll see you later."

"Can we do anything to help?"� She felt stupid just getting on her bus

and moving to another ranch, when there were people and animals in

danger.

"That's my job," he smiled, jamming his hat on his head, and grabbing

an old denim jacket.� "See ya," he said, and was gone with a last look

over his shoulder.� She felt like the little woman as she stood

there.

And she quickly put on her clothes and did as he told her.� And as he

drove his truck down the road, he smiled when he saw a rustle in the

tall grass moving toward the cabins.� He knew exactly what it was, and

he mentally put his arms around her and kissed her.

But as soon as he got to the corral, his work was cut out for him.

They had to get all the horses out of their stalls, into the main

corral, and they were going to herd them across the valley.� The trick

was seeing that none of them got hurt or lost, or stampeded.� He

rounded up ten good men and four women to do it.� They needed all the

help they could get, and they had already called ahead to the next

ranch.� They were emptying their pens and making room for them.� And if

the fire traveled that far, they would all be in terrible trouble.� But

for the moment, the winds had shifted in the opposite direction.

Gordon was shouting directions at all of them, and riding an old paint

mare that he knew would be good for the job, just as Tanya walked into

the cabin.

"My God, where were you?"� Mary Stuart was looking unnerved, and Zoe

was putting her clothes on.� They had just been called, and they knew

exactly where Tanya was, but they didn't know how to find her.� "They

called to say we have to evacuate, and I didn't want to tell them you

were in the wranglers' cabins," Mary Stuart said, still looking

nervous.

"Thanks for that," Tanya smiled, and dialed Tom.� She asked him to come

to the ranch, and told him what had happened.� She was going to offer

the bus to transport as many people as they wanted.� There were nearly

a hundred guests at the ranch at the moment.

"Do you think the ranch will burn down?"� Mary Stuart asked anxiously,

just as Zoe walked into the room in a heavy sweater and jeans, carrying

her doctor's bag.� It was chilly, and there was a stiff wind out.

"No, I don't think the ranch will burn down.� Gordon says this happens

from time to time, and they always control it.� What are you doing?"

she asked, as she turned to Zoe.

"I'm going to offer them a hand.� They've got firefighters going up

there."

"Are they asking for volunteers?"� Tanya looked surprised.� Gordon

hadn't given her the impression that the guests would be helping, and

at that exact moment Hartley arrived, and said they were wanted in the

main building as fast as they could get there.� Everyone looked

slightly tousled and very concerned, in an assortment of rough clothes

and peculiar outfits, as they hurried up the hill to the main hall.

Mary Stuart chatted with Hartley, and seemed calmer when she got

there.

She was holding his hand, and he was carrying a briefcase, he'd been

working on a manuscript off and on since he got there.� The other

guests were carrying an odd assortment of things they didn't want to

lose, from briefcases, to fishing equipment, to handbags.

Charlotte Collins was waiting for all of them, and she explained calmly

and succinctly that she was sure there was no real danger to the ranch,

but it seemed wisest to move the guests to another location, should the

winds change.� They didn't want to be caught in a situation that

presented any danger to anyone, or where they had to move too

quickly.

They were all being taken to a neighboring ranch, and they would be

made as comfortable as possible in the spare rooms they had, and their

living rooms would be made available for their exclusive use for the

duration.

There weren't enough rooms for everyone of course, but they were hoping

that people would be good sports about it, and they were sure that

they could come back in a matter of hours.� Charlotte hoped that, in

the spirit of the ranch, they would look upon it as an adventure.� She

was very bright and very cool, and very cheerful.

Sandwiches were being made, she said, and thermoses of coffee being

prepared, and she indicated that transportation would not be a

problem.

She said their biggest concern was getting the horses out, and that was

being handled at this very moment.� Tanya thought of Gordon as she said

it.

She said that everyone would be moved out in the next half hour, and

they would, of course, keep them posted.� And with that, the meeting

ended, and there was a huge hubbub of voices as people milled around,

discussing what was happening with each other and Charlotte.� Tanya

made her way to her and let her know that her bus would be available at

any moment.� And they were welcome to use it for transporting people to

other locations.

Charlotte said she was very kind, and they'd be grateful to use it.

She explained too that there were busloads of volunteers going up to

fight the fire on Shadow Mountain, at which point Zoe stepped in, and

asked if she could go up with them.� She had a medical kit with her,

and Charlotte knew she was a physician.� She hesitated for an instant,

knowing she wasn't well, and then agreed to let her do it.� They always

needed medical assistance, and she knew Zoe was well enough to provide

it.

Whatever her long-term medical problems were, and John Kroner had

hinted to her that they were severe, she was certainly fine at this

point.

"We'd appreciate that, Dr. Phillips," she said as two other guests

came forward, also carrying their bags.� Zoe didn't know them, one was

a gynecologist from the South, and the other was a heart surgeon from

St. Louis, but they were certainly all capable of doing what was

needed.

"I've got a truck going up in a few minutes," Charlotte told the three

physicians, and the three of them conferred, and showed each other

their supplies.� None of them were well prepared for burns, but

Charlotte said she had a kit just for that purpose, and someone brought it

to them.� It was enormous and very helpful.

People started getting in vans provided for them then, and twenty

minutes later, Tanya's bus arrived, and Charlotte started funneling

people into it.� They had almost everyone loaded up in half an hour.

Hartley and Mary Stuart had been among the first to get on, and Tanya

had stayed behind to talk to Charlotte.� "Could I go up the mountain

with you, Mrs. Collins?"� she asked her quietly, and the older woman

reminded her to call her Charlotte.� "I'd like to help if I can.� I

know you've got volunteers up there.� Maybe I could lend a hand, or

assist Zoe."

Charlotte Collins hesitated for only an instant, and then nodded.� They

needed all the help they could get, but she didn't want the other

guests to know that.� It was frightening enough just to see the night

sky blazing above them.� It was bright red now.

Tanya ran to tell Mary Stuart.� She shouted onto the bus that she was

staying.� Mary Stuart seemed to hesitate and then nodded.� Hartley was

right beside her.� And a moment later, Tom took off with the other

vans, and Charlotte directed the handful that had stayed into trucks.

There were half a dozen men, the three doctors, and Tanya, and they

headed up the mountain in Jeeps, trucks, and vans, along with dozens of

wranglers and ranch hands.� They were a small, efficient army.� And all

the while, Tanya kept wondering how Gordon had fared with the horses.

They traveled up the mountain for nearly half an hour and then they

reached the barricades where they had to leave the trucks.� They were

directed to go the rest of the way on foot, and join the others on the

line.� They were passing buckets of water, while planes overhead were

dropping chemicals on it.� The fire was blazing hot, and there was a

constant roaring sound, like a huge waterfall, and they had to shout to

be heard above it.� Tanya took her sweater off, and tied it around her

waist, she was wearing one of Gordon's T-shirts, and she had never been

so hot in her life.� She could feel her face getting blistered, and

sparks were flying around them.� It was terrifying as they fought the

blaze, and they weren't even in the front lines.� She couldn't even

imagine what it must be like for the others.� She was sorry she didn't

have gloves as she burned her hands, and she could feel the ground hot

beneath her boots, as trees fell and the wind raged on, and small

animals rushed past them, heading down the mountain, but there had

already been endless carnage.� And she saw Zoe from time to time.� They

had formed a medical station with some doctors and nurses from town.

People were starting to arrive in droves to help and it seemed like

hours later when she saw Gordon.� He walked right past her, and then he

turned around with a look of amazement, and he came back for a minute

to see her.� He wondered if anyone knew who she was, and he doubted

it.

She was just standing there, working like all the others.� She took a

break for a minute then, she'd been working for hours, and her arms

were so sore she could hardly lift them.

"What are you doing here?"� He looked tired and filthy dirty, but the

run to the other ranch had gone well.� All the horses were safe there,

and he had come up to fight the fire with the others.

"Zoe and I volunteered.� I figured they could use some help."

"You sure look for enough ways to get into trouble, don't you?"� He

shook his head at her, he didn't like the idea of her fighting the

fire.

If the wind changed, some of them could get trapped.� It was easy to

get killed fighting a fire like this one.� "I'm going to the front, be

sure you stay back here, I'll come back and look for you later."� She

wanted to tell him not to go, but she knew it was his job, he had to

defend the ranch from the fire with the others.

The planes continued to drop chemicals on the fire all night, and at

noon they were all still there.� Most of them were ready to drop they

were so tired.� And mattresses were brought up and laid on the backs of

trucks, so people could sleep and form shifts.� There were as many as

ten people sleeping in the back of each truck.� They were so tired they

would have lain down anywhere and passed out.� It was early in the

afternoon when Tanya finally saw Zoe.� She hadn't seen Gordon since

that morning.

"Are you all right?"� Tanya asked with a look of concern, but Zoe

looked surprisingly well and very calm.

"I'm fine," she smiled.� "We've done pretty well, nothing but small

casualties so far.� They say that if the wind doesn't change, they'll

have it out by nightfall.� I saw Gordon a while ago.� He said to say hi

if I saw you."

"Is he okay?"� Tanya looked worried, and Zoe smiled as she nodded.

"He's fine, scorched his arm a little bit, nothing much.� I think he's

sleeping in the trucks right now."� The two women stood together

drinking coffee for a little while, and then went back to their

stations.� It was something of an adventure for them, and they both

liked the fact that they were useful.� And they were planning to tease

Mary Stuart for not coming.� They both knew she hated being anywhere

near road accidents, and fires, and anything frightening or out of

control or potentially dangerous.� Tanya was actually glad she had

evacuated with Hartley, there was no real reason to be here.� It was

just nice to be able to lend a hand, and Tanya was happy to be there

near Gordon, even if she never saw him.� And this way, she could keep

an eye on Zoe.

They were there till four o'clock that afternoon when the forestry

service told them that the fire was officially in control.� They

thought they'd have it out completely before nightfall.� A cheer went

up all around, and half an hour later a band of filthy but happy people

went back down the mountain.� They went in trucks and vans and cars,

they went on foot, and they talked and joked, and shared stories of

what had gone on at the top, or off to the side, or on the trucks, or

in the air.

Everyone had a story.� Tanya was walking when Zoe and the other doctors

rode by.� They looked tired but as though they were having a good time,

and Tanya saw John Kroner among .

them.� She waved at them and they drove on, and she walked slowly down

the hills toward the valley.� She was tired, but she didn't mind the

walk, as she looked across the valley at the mountains.� They were

always there, her friends.� She knew she would always love them.

"Need a ride?"� a voice behind her said, and she turned to see who it

was.� It was Gordon, driving his truck with a black face and a hard

hat.

His eyes had been covered with goggles, and she could see where he had

burned his arm.� It was covered with a bandage.

"Hi there, you okay?"� she asked, and he nodded.� He was exhausted.

They were offering food in the dining room, and he didn't even think

he'd have the strength to eat it.� She hopped in with him, and

instinctively she leaned over and he kissed her, and then they both

looked shocked at what they'd done.� It seemed so natural to them now,

and they reminded each other that, particularly in this crowd, they had

to be careful.

"I'm sorry, Gordon, I wasn't thinking."

"Neither was I," he said with a broad smile.� All he wanted was to go

back to bed with her, and sleep for about twelve hours, and wake up

next to her in the morning.

"What do you do about the horses now?"� she asked, taking a swig of

water from his thermos.� It smelled of smoke, but she was desperately

thirsty.

"We'll bring them back tonight.� I'll come get you when I'm done," he

looked at her with a smile, "if that's all right with you."

"Sounds good to me."� She lay her head back against the seat, looked

out the window, and started singing.� It was just an old Texas song,

one of her favorite ones.� He knew it too, and he started singing with

her, and the people they passed smiled.� As she sang, they began to

realize who she was, and they were amazed to realize that she had come

with them.� It impressed a lot of them, and it had made a big

impression on Charlotte Collins.� Tanya had worked like a dog all

night.� She had been on the mountain for seventeen hours with all the

others, and worked harder than most whenever Charlotte saw her.� And

Zoe had done the same.� She'd actually had a great time with the other

doctors.

When they got back to the ranch, before they brought the guests back,

the dining room was opened to all the workers, and a huge meal was

served of fried eggs, omelettes, sausages, bacon, steaks, fried

tomatoes, there were cakes and ice cream, and fried potatoes.

"The only thing they don't have is grits, " Tanya complained with a

grin as she took a seat next to Gordon.

"Damn right, they don't know how to eat here," he laughed with her.

They chatted easily and Zoe came and sat next to them, along with John

Kroner and his lover.� They talked about the fire for an hour, and then

slowly everyone went back to where they came from.� But Gordon still

had to round up his crew to go and get the horses.

"You're going to be dead tonight," Tanya whispered to him as they

walked out of the dining room, "are you sure you want me to come by?"

"What do you think?"� His eyes, as he looked at her, told the whole

story.

"I think you're one tough hombre, Mr. Bronco Man," she said, and

nearly kissed him.

"Watch that, or I'll be out on the highway with my thumb out, looking

for a job on another ranch."

"I doubt that."� She had seen that night how hard he worked and what a

great job he did.� Charlotte Collins would have been crazy to can

him.

"But I'll be careful, I promise."� They were just too comfortable, it

was as though they were meant to be together.

"Maybe you should hang on to this one," Zoe said of Gordon with a

smile, just as the bus returned, and they spotted Mary Stuart.

The bus and the vans came back at seven o'clock, and there was an

informal buffet dinner waiting for everyone, in the same hall where she

and Zoe had eaten with the volunteers, and they really weren't

hungry.

But they sat with Hartley and Mary Stuart anyway, talking about their

adventures.� They hadn't even had time to get back to the cabin yet.

Zoe had been putting away supplies after the fire, and Tanya stuck

around to help her after Gordon left to get the horses.� But a

noticeable camaraderie had sprung up among all those who'd fought the

fire, and Zoe commented on how perfect for each other Gordon and Tanya

seemed to her whenever she saw them together.

By the time they got back to the cabin that night, the fire on the

mountain was completely out.� It was on the news, and word spread all

over the ranch quickly.� Tanya got in the shower, and then soaked in

the Jacuzzi for an hour, and as she got out of the tub and wrapped

herself in a large towel, she heard a tapping on her window.� She

pulled back the curtain and saw a filthy black face there, with his

goggle marks, and she wanted to reach out and put her arms around

him.

Mary Stuart and Zoe were already in bed.� None of them slept the night

before, and both of them said they were exhausted.� Tanya was tired

too, but she was waiting for Gordon, and it had taken hours to soak the

smell of smoke out of her skin and her hair.� She was all pink and

clean now and smelled of perfume.� He was beckoning her to come with

him.� He was too tired to wait, he was dead on his feet, but she

signaled to him to hold on for a second, and she ran to the door of her

cabin.� She had had an idea as she lay in the Jacuzzi.

She turned the light out outside and in the living room, so no one

would see them there, and she stood talking to him from the doorway.

"Come on," he said urgently, he was anxious to get going.

"I want you to come inside.� No one's going to know.� The others are

asleep, and after last night, if anyone sees anything, you can tell

them you were talking to me about the fire."� It had been an unusual

day and night and he hesitated only for a minute, and then slipped into

the living room and closed the door behind him.� All the curtains were

closed, and she beckoned him straight into her bedroom.

"What's up?"� he asked nervously.� "I don't think we should spend the

night here."

"I want you to have a Jacuzzi," she insisted.� "You're exhausted.� Come

on.� If you want to go after that, I'll go with you."� He knew he'd

never want to go anywhere ever again once he took his clothes off, but

he didn't argue with her.� He didn't have the strength.� They'd had a

hell of a time getting the horses back, and he was beyond exhausted.

She turned on the tub for him, and helped him peel his clothes off.� He

was like a little kid only too happy for the assistance, and a moment

later he got into the huge sunken tub, and she turned on the jets, and

he lay there with his eyes closed, feeling as though he had died and

gone to Heaven.� He opened his eyes once as he started to drift off to

sleep and looked at her.� "Tanny, I can't believe this."� She didn't

tell him that her life at home was even more luxurious.� That wasn't

the point between them.� She just let him soak in the tub, and she

washed his hair for him, while he lay there luxuriating.� It was the

best gift she could have given him, and she was glad she had insisted

he come in with her.

He lay in the tub for nearly an hour, and then he glanced up at her.

He hadn't been to sleep yet, but he looked a hell of a lot better.

"Want to come in?"� he asked, and she laughed.� She was still wrapped

in a towel from her own bath, and she couldn't believe that he could

even think of such things, as tired as they both were.� But the moment

she got in the tub with him, it was obvious that he had other things on

his mind than sleeping.

"I can't believe you.� I thought you were dying an hour ago."

"I've been resurrected.� Select parts of me anyway."� She laughed at

him, he was certainly in good form, and they made love in her

Jacuzzi.

It was midnight when they got out again, and they'd been in the water

for so long that she said she felt like a little shriveled-up raisin.

"You shore don't look like one," he drawled, caressing her bottom, and

then she turned and looked at him.

"Do you want to go back to your place or stay here?"

He thought about it for a moment, and knew he was a fool, but he just

couldn't resist it.� Just this once, he decided to take a chance.� "I

may regret this, especially if you don't kick me out around

five-thirty.

That's real important."

"I will," she promised him.

"Then let's stay here .� . . I don't think I'll make it to my cabin."

Even more than that, he didn't really want to.� They slipped into her

enormous bed, and he thought he'd never felt anything as comfortable.

The sheets were clean, her flesh was smooth, she smelled of perfume and

soap, even her hair was clean.� He had never felt better in his life,

and he was asleep even before she could turn the light out.

He held her close to him all night, and she woke him up gently, as

promised, at five-twenty.� She had set her alarm clock "I hate to do

this to you, baby," she whispered into his neck, and he rolled over and

put an arm around her.� Even in his sleep he was affectionate with her,

and she loved it.� "You've got to get up."

"No, I don't," he said in the dark, with his eyes closed.� "I died and

went to Heaven."

"Me too .� . . come on, get up, sleepyhead .� .."� He opened his eyes

finally, and with a groan he got out of bed, and slowly put his clothes

on.� They were still filthy from the fire, and he was clean, but he

only had to wear them as far as his cabin, and then he would shower

again, and dress for work.� But he hated to leave her.

"Thank you," he said, as he stood looking at her, "that was the nicest

gift anyone could give me," he meant the Jacuzzi as much as her loving,

and she smiled at him.

"I thought that would do you good."� And as they stood there, she

remembered it was Wednesday.� "You're not riding I in the rodeo

tonight, are you?"� she asked, and he hesitated and then shook his

head.

"I think I'd either fall asleep or fall off before I got out of the

pen.� I think I'll pass tonight."

"Me too," she said, after the fiasco on Saturday night, she hadn't

planned on going either.

"Why don't we spend a quiet night listening to music?� Do you mind

coming to the cabin again?"

"No, sir."� She smiled and kissed him, and told �g2�o2would see him

later.� And then he slipped out on silent feet and was gone before

anyone could see him.� And when she saw him at the corral at nine

o'clock, he looked clean and organized and official in a white shirt, a

cowboy hat, and a pair of tens.� The horses were all sorted out and

saddled, everyone looked rested again.� Other than a faint smell of

smoke in the air, you would never have known that anything had

happened.� But it was all anyone could talk about all day.� The fire on

Shadow Mountain.

It was a peaceful day for all of them, and that afternoon, after lunch,

Mary Stuart called Bill in London.� He was working in his room, and he

sounded a little surprised to hear from her.� She usually sent him

faxes now and rarely called him.� But he seldom called her either.

"Is something wrong?"� he asked, startled to hear her voice.� It was

ten o'clock at night in London.

"No, I'm fine," she said matter-of-factly, and asked him how work was,

he said it was fine, and then there was an awkward silence.� She told

him about the forest fire then, and that Zoe and Tanya had volunteered,

but she had been evacuated to another ranch.� She didn't say that she

had gone with Hartley.� And then she totally stunned her husband.� "I

thought I'd come to London next week," she said quietly.

"I told you," he said, sounding irritated.� "I'm busy."

"I'm well aware of that.� But I think we need to talk.� Otherwise I'm

not going to see you till September."� Apparently that didn't bother

him. �But it bothered her a lot.� That was part of the problem.

"I might be back at the end of August."

"I'm not going to wait another six weeks to see you," she said

simply.

"I miss you too," he said, still annoyed, "but I'm working day and

night.� I told you that.� Otherwise, I'd have had you come with me."

"Would you rather I just send you a fax?"� she snapped at him.� It was

ridiculous, he wouldn't even take the time for her to tell him it was

over.

"Don't be disagreeable.� I don't have time to see you."

"That's the entire point of my visit.� You don't have time to speak to

me either, or make love to me, or be my husband.� I don't actually

think it has as much to do with time, Bill, as interest."

"What exactly are you saying?"� he said with a little chill running up

his spine.� He was suddenly beginning to understand what she was

saying, the faxes, the silences, the fact that she didn't call.� He was

getting it.� But very, very slowly.� "Why are you coming over here?"

he asked her bluntly.� He had always hated surprises.

"To see you.� I won't take a lot of your time.� I won't even stay in

the same hotel if you don't want me to.� I just think that after

twenty-one years, we ought to say a word or two to each other before we

throw the whole mess in the trash can."

"Is that how you feel about us?"� He sounded both appalled and

startled, but she couldn't deny it.

"Yes, it is, and I'm sure you feel that way too.� I just think we ought

to talk about it."

"I don't feel that way at all," he said, sounding crushed.� "How could

you say that?"

"The fact that you can even ask me that is the saddest thing I can

think of."

"We've both been through a great deal .� . . And I have this very

important case in London .� . . you know that .� .."

"I know, Bill."� She sounded tired listening to him.� He was so totally

without insight that she wondered if it was even worth her while going

over to see him.� Just talking to him depressed her.� "We'll talk next

week."

"Are we talking or signing papers?"� he said, sounding angry.

"That's up to you."� But it wasn't.� It was up to her.� And she knew

it.

He'd probably go on like that forever, married to a woman he never

touched, looked at, or spoke to.� As far as she was concerned it was

not too appealing.� And having just spent ten days talking to Hartley

constantly, the idea of going back to a silent, loveless marriage made

her suicidal.� She just wasn't going to do it.� It was over.

"It sounds as if you've already made up your mind," Bill said

unhappily, and she almost said that was the case, but if she had there

would have been no point going to London.� And somehow she felt that

she had to give him a chance to defend himself, to at least explain why

he had treated her so badly for the last year, before she told him.

But it was a bit of a kangaroo court, and she knew it.� "Are you flying

from New York?"� he asked, as though that made a difference, but of

course it didn' t.

"I'm coming from L.A as soon as I leave Tanya."

"Is this her idea?"� he asked, as though she couldn't have thought of

it herself.� "Or your other friend, the doctor?"

"Her name is Zoe.� And no, it's not their idea.� Bill, it's mine.� I

thought all this out before I left New York, and I see no point waiting

two more months to tell you."

"Tell me what?"� He was really pressing her.� He heard what she was

saying and the way she sounded, and he was beginning to sound

panicked.

It was pathetic.� Instead of panicking now, he should have noticed the

situation six months earlier, or even two.� That might have made a

difference.� Now it wouldn't.

"I'm telling you I'm miserable with you, or hadn't you noticed?� And

you're just as miserable with me.� And don't be dishonest about it."

.

"It's been a hard time, but I'm sure it'll be fine," he said, denying

all the agony of the last year, the bitterness, the silence, the

hatred.

"Why would it be fine?� What is possibly going to change it?"� She had

asked him to see a therapist months before and he had refused.� He was

not dealing with it, and he was hiding How could it possibly get any

better?� But he sounded as though he was fighting for his life now.

"I don't know what's going on here."� He sounded completely confused,

and totally unprepared for her accusations, as though he had never

expected her to notice, as though he could just park her somewhere and

beat on her occasionally, and come back one day if he felt better.

Well, it was too late.� And suddenly he knew it.� "I don't understand

why you're coming over."� He was still trying to deny it.

"We'll talk about it next week," she said, unwilling to pursue it any

further.

"Maybe I can come to New York for a weekend," he said, as though having

her come to London was too threatening.� But she wasn't going to wait a

moment longer than she had to.

"You don't need to do that.� You're busy.� I won't take up too much

time.

I promise.� I'm going to try and meet up with Alyssa."

"Does she know you're coming?"� Did everyone?� He sounded utterly

panicked.

"Not yet," Mary Stuart said coolly.� She had loved him for too long,

given too much to him, and waited too long for it to get better.� And

now she had nothing left to give him.� She wasn't even sorry.� "I'll

try and track her down before I come."

"Maybe we can all spend a weekend together," he said, sounding

hopeful.

"I don't want to do that.� That's not why I'm coming.� I'll come to

London to see you for a day or two, and then I'll fly to wherever she

is."� She was not going to let him hide behind their daughter, or have

him play little family at her expense.

This was between her and her husband and no one else, and she didn't

want Alyssa with them.

"You can stay longer if you want.� As long as you're coming over .� .

."

His voice trailed off but he was beginning to sense that it was

pointless.� He was not a complete fool, and he had never heard her so

heartless or so angry.� It never even occurred to him that there might

be someone else.� She didn't sound that way, and she was not that kind

of woman.� He felt certain that she had always been faithful to him,

and he was right.� But he had never, ever heard her so angry.� It was

more than anger, it was disdain.� He knew now that it had gone too

far.

And he knew exactly what he was going to hear when she came to

London.

He respected her for coming to tell him herself and not writing to him,

but that didn't make it any better.

He was crushed when they hung up.� She could have saved herself the

trip.� He knew precisely what she was going to tell him.� All he could

think of to do was send her a fax.� And when she got it an hour later,

she looked at it and threw it in the garbage.� It fell on the floor

instead, and Zoe picked it up that afternoon and shook her head when

she read it.� The poor guy really didn't have a clue.� He was

hopeless.

"Looking forward to seeing you next week.� Warm regards to you and your

friends, Bill."� For a drowning man who was fighting for his life, he

might as well have been clinging to a toothpick.� And it seemed obvious

to Zoe, or anyone who knew Mary Stuart, that he was not going to make

it.

By Thursday, they were each clinging to the last of their days, like

worry beads they were each hanging on to for different reasons.� Of the

three of them Zoe was the most excited to go home, she'd been talking

to Sam every day, she was feeling well, and she was anxious to see her

baby.� But she still loved being at the ranch, and felt that each day

there was an opportunity to get stronger.� It was like going to

Lourdes, she said jokingly, she could look up at the mountains and pray

and she knew she would go home a whole person.� And John Kroner even

said there was something to that.

But for the others, each day less was an agony of sorts, a priceless

gift they had lost, something they knew they would never again

recapture.� in the face of their departure, Hartley was beginning to

fear that they had been too cautious, that they should have had an

affair, that they should have done more than kiss and hold each other,

and learn all about each other.� He saw what Tanya and Gordon had, and

he suddenly envied them.� But when he talked to Mary Stuart about it on

Thursday afternoon, she told him he was being foolish.� They had done

the right thing for them, and he knew that.� She reminded him of how

much they had both been through, how much loss, how much pain, and how

much wiser for them to proceed with caution.� She didn't want to begin

their relationship by feeling she had cheated on Bill, or left him for

Hartley.� She didn't want guilt trailing them for the rest of their

lives, and Hartley smiled at her, relieved by what she was saying.� For

a short time, he had panicked.

"As long as there is a rest of our lives," then I'm not worried."

Neither of them were completely sure of it, and there was still her

trip to London to live through, but it certainly looked as though they

were going to wind up together.� And anyone watching them for any

length of time would have put money on it, particularly Tanya and

Zoe.

"I think I'm going to go crazy when I know you're in London," Hartley

said sheepishly.� He was such a nice man, and he was so attractive.� He

had invited Mary Stuart to go to Seattle with him.� He was talking to a

library there that wanted to build a wing in his honor, and from there

he was flying to Boston, to discuss a lecture he was going to give at

Harvard.� It was going to be an interesting life for her, if she joined

him.� He was anxious to have her read his work too, and he had given

her pieces of the manuscript he was working on.� It had been a great

honor for her, and suddenly the prospect of finding a job no longer

seemed as important.� Hartley was going to keep her very busy.

But she declined his offer to travel with him when they left Wyoming.

She wanted to go back to Los Angeles with Tanya, spend a day or two

with her, and then fly on to London.� She needed to get it over with,

to clear her head.� And she would meet him back in New York as soon as

it was over.� It would be better for both of them, she'd be free

then.

And she was more than willing to spend the rest of the summer with him

at Fisher's Island.� He wanted to give a dinner party for her, to

introduce her to his friends, and let them know the good times had come

again after nearly two years of solitude and silence.� He was ready to

come out of hiding.

"I'll call you the minute I've talked to him."� Mary Stuart smiled

gently as they walked along.� They had ridden that morning, but decided

not to ride that afternoon.� They wanted to be alone and do some

hiking.

"Maybe we should arrange some kind of a signal."

"Like what?"� She tried to imagine what she would feel like in his

shoes, and she sympathized although she thought he was unduly nervous

about it.� Her trip to London was nothing more than a courtesy, as far

as she was concerned, especially after her last conversation with her

husband. �"What kind of signal do you have in mind?"� she smiled

gently.

"One if by land, two if by sea," he laughed, and then frowned as he

thought about it.� And then finally he looked at her with worried

eyes.

"Just send me a fax with some kind of a message.� And let me know when

you're coming.� I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Stop worrying," she said, and kissed him, as they walked slowly back

toward the ranch, holding hands, just as Gordon and Tanya galloped back

from Shadow Mountain.� They had been surveying the damage after the

fire, and it was fairly extensive.� They were talking about it on the

way down, when Tanya noticed a man on foot coming out of a clearing.

He looked like sort of a wild mountain man, he was wearing torn clothes

and had long hair, and in spite of the rubble and the charred wood

everywhere, he was barefoot.� He stood watching them for a little

while, and then he disappeared into the tree line.

"Who was that?"� Tanya asked as they rode on.� He had looked strange,

and he'd been carrying a rifle.

"There are guys like that who live up in the mountains from time to

time.� They travel around the national parks.� The fire probably drove

him out and he's looking for a new campsite They're harmless."� Gordon

looked unconcerned as they rode on, and Tanya smiled as she thought of

something.� She had asked him about a ride she wanted to take

tomorrow.

He said it was possible, but they would have to start early.

They were back at the corral on time at the end of the afternoon.� She

left him there, and they both knew she would be at the cabin later that

night.� She was spending all of her evenings there, after she had

dinner with the others, and she was back before they got up in the

morning.� It was the happiest time she'd had in years and none of them

begrudged it to her.

She had dinner with them all that night, and all of them were in good

spirits.� Hartley and Mary Stuart looked relaxed, and Zoe had spent the

afternoon at the hospital visiting John Kroner.� She enjoyed his company

and he was grateful for her input with his patients.� They were all

laughing and telling jokes, and it was later than usual when she left

them in the cabin.� Even Hartley suspected where she went although he

didn't know how long she stayed there.� But Gordon was a nice guy and

they seemed surprisingly well matched.� It actually didn't shock him.

She walked down the path, as she always did, and the sky was filled

with stars.� It was such a pretty night, she almost hated to go in, and

she could hear the horses neighing softly when she went by them.� He

was waiting for her, as he always did.� He had music on, and he'd made

coffee for her.� They sat and talked for a while, and inevitably they

made love, and as she lay with him, she wished she could turn the clock

back.� Time was moving much too quickly.� They were lying in the dark

and talking late that night when she thought she heard a crashing

sound, a dog barked, and then the horses suddenly were neighing

loudly.

Gordon turned his head in the dark, and listened to the sounds, and

then the dog barked again, and it sounded as though the horses were

going crazy.

"Is something wrong?"� she asked quietly.

"I don't know.� Sometimes something spooks them, a coyote sneaks down

to the corral, or someone walks by.� It's prob bly nothing."� But ten

minutes later, it hadn't stopped, if anything it was worse, and she

could hear banging sounds, as though some of the horses were rearing in

their stalls, and Gordon decided to put his clothes on and check

them.

"I'm sure they're fine," but he was responsible for looking in on them

in case anything happened.� And she knew she couldn't go with him.

"I'll wait here," she said, watching him move around in the dark.� He

had put on jeans and boots, and pulled a sweater over his bare chest.

He looked so handsome as he stood there in the moonlight that she

almost wanted to stop him.� She kissed him long and hard and felt him

aroused and he laughed softly in the darkness.

"Hold that thought, I'll be right back."� He headed for the corral at a

run, and then she saw him slow as he rounded the corner.� She was

peeking from his kitchen window.� And she couldn't see anything.� Other

than the noise the horses had made, and were still making now,

everything seemed to be peaceful.� But he didn't come back for a long

time and after an houry she got worried.� She didn't know if one of the

horses was sick, and he had to stay with it, or if something had

happened.� And she couldn't call anyone for help, or ask someone to

check.

She decided to put her own clothes on and look for him.� At worst if

she nlet someone, she could say she hadn't been able to sleep and had

gone for a walk.� They wouldn't know where she'd come from.

She walked slowly toward the corral, and it seemed quieter suddenly,

but as she turned the corner she saw them.� It was the mountain man, he

was pointing a gun at Gordon, who stood very still talking to him, and

then she saw that several of the horses were smeared with blood, and

one was lying on the ground, and she noticed a huge hunting knife he

was brandishing at Gordon.� It took her a moment to realize what was

happening, and then slowly she backed away and began to run, and just

as she turned the corner he saw her, and as he did, a shot rang out.

She had no idea where he'd shot or who, or if he was shooting at her,

she just kept running.� She knew she had to get help and fast, and she

prayed that he wasn't shooting at Gordon.� She couldn't even think of

that now.� There were no more shots, as Tanya's feet pounded onto the

porch of the nearest wrangler's house and she hammered on the door.� It

was one of the men she knew, a young boy from Colorado, and he came to

the door with a blanket wrapped around his middle.� He thought it was

probably another forest fire.� Sometimes when a fire was put out, an

ember smoldered for a while and then set it off again, but he saw from

her face that something much worse than that had happened.� He knew

instantly who she was, and she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him

with her.

"There's a man with a knife and a gun in the corral, some of the horses

are hurt and he's got Gordon.� Come quickly!"

He had no idea how she knew and he didn't ask her.� He dropped the

blanket and put on his pants, as she turned away while he finished

dressing.� He was still zipping up his pants as he came out on the

porch, and pounded on the door of the cabin one door over.� The lights

went on, the man came out, the young man Tanya was with told him to

call the sheriff and round up the others, and then he and Tanya headed

for the corral at a dead run in time to see the man jump on one of the

horses and gallop off toward the mountains.� He was still brandishing

his gun and shouting obscenities at them, but he didn't shoot at

anyone.� Two horses lay dead, one stabbed, the other shot, and Gordon

was lying on the ground bleeding profusely.� There was blood

everywhere, and it was spurting from his arm.� Tanya understood

instantly what had happened.� An artery had been cut and he was going

to bleed to death in a matter of moments.� She grabbed his arm and

applied pressure to it, and shouted at the other wrangler to run to her

cabin and get Zoe, and as she looked at him she could see Gordon fading

away on her.� But for a second at least the blood had slowed.� She was

already covered with it, and it was all over the ground, and the horses

were going crazy all around her.

"Come on, baby .� . . come on .� . . Gordon, talk to me .� .."

She was trying to keep him conscious while putting pressure on the

artery, but she could see that he was going.� "No!"� she shouted at

him, but she didn't have a free hand to slap his face or do anything

but slow the blood down.� "Gordon!� Wake up!"� She was shouting and

crying all at once, as the others began to arrive.� They were stunned,

and it took a minute for them to understand what had happened.� No one

had heard anything and as she tried to explain and hold Gordon's arm

she saw Zoe flying down the hillside in her nightgown.� She was

carrying her doctor's bag, and as she reached them, Tanya saw that she

was wearing rubber gloves, to protect Gordon from her illness.

"Make room for me," she said to the men, "that's it .� . . thanks."

She knelt beside him and looked at Tanya.

"Someone slashed him with a hunting knife."� Zoe could see he had all

but taken his arm off.� "I think he hit an artery, it was gushing like

a pulse."� She had taken first-aid years before and this much she

remembered.

"Don't let go," Zoe instructed her, and tried to check it out, but even

just moving the arm a tiny bit, a geyser of blood hit them both and the

ground around them.� Tanya shifted the pressure again, and Zoe made a

tourniquet as best she could just above her, but he was in bad shape,

and in shock, and she wasn't at all sure that he'd make it.� Tanya

could see that too and she kept shouting his name as the other men

watched in horror.� Charlotte Collins had been called by then, and two

of the wranglers were grieving over their lost horses.� The man had

been insane.

The wrangler she had woken up was telling all of them what he had seen,

and what seemed to have happened.

"How soon do you think the ambulance will come?"� Zoe asked one of the

men.

"Ten, fifteen minutes," they answered, and she looked pained.� Gordon

wasn't looking good, and there wasn't much she could do here.� He

needed blood, oxygen, and an operating room as fast as he could get

there.� But just as she began to give up hope, a siren screamed through

the night, and the wranglers directed it right down to where Gordon

lay.� He had just lost consciousness and his pulse was thready.� He had

lost a lot of blood, and Tanya was sobbing as she kept pressure on the

wound while Zoe kept trying to reassure her.

Other than the tourniquet, there was nothing she could do now, except

keep track of his vital signs, and pray he made it.

She told the paramedics as much as she knew immediately and they had

him on a stretcher in seconds.� Zoe got in with them and someone handed

her a long slicker to cover her nightgown with.� It was all they had,

and Tanya asked if she could go with them.� The paramedics were holding

his wound now, and Gordon was as white as paper.

"How about if I drive you?"� a voice asked, and Tanya saw that it was

Charlotte Collins.� There was no disapproval in her face, only

gratitude, and Tanya nodded.� She let the ambulance go ahead, there

hadn't been room for her anyway, and Zoe didn't want her there if he

died, which she thought was likely.� It was easier for Tanya to ride

right behind with Charlotte Collins.� Tanya told her about seeing the

man earlier that day, carrying a rifle, and Gordon thinking he was

harmless.

"Most of them are, some are disturbed.� There was a terrible story a

few years ago, some guy recently out of prison in another state

murdered a whole family in their sleeping bags, but that kind of thing

doesn't happen here often.� Most of us don't even lock our doors at

night," she said, glancing at Tanya's obvious terror for Gordon.� She

wished she were in the ambulance.� She couldn't believe what had

happened to him.� It was incredible, and it had all happened so

quickly.

It felt like a thousand years getting to the hospital, and neither of

them spoke again on the way.� Tanya was clearly too jangled to make

conversation.� And Charlotte was deeply sympathetic.� She knew more

than Tanya thought.� There was very little that happened on the ranch

that escaped her notice.� It wasn't what she recommended to her staff,

on the contrary there were severe penalties for fraternizing with the

guests, but now and then odd things happened.� Life was life, and rules

were something else sometimes.� She just hoped that he didn't die

now.

The rest could be sorted out later.

When they reached the hospital, a code blue had been sent ?� out, and

they were met by a dozen staff, a gurney from the operating room, and

two surgeons were already scrubbing.

They asked Zoe if she wanted to come in, and she said she didn't think

that she was needed.� She thought she'd be more useful in the waiting

room with Tanya.� She had kept him alive for the ride, that was about

all she could do for him.� The rest was up to the emergency room staff

and the surgeons.

"How is he?"� Tanya asked hoarsely.

"Alive" was all Zoe could say for him at that point, but she knew she

had to be honest with her.� "But barely."� Charlotte shook her head in

dismay at her answer, and they both held Tanya's hands as she cried and

they waited.� Tanya wasn't even embarrassed to have Charlotte see her

cry.� She didn't care what she knew now.� All Tanya knew was that she

loved him.

The police came after a while and questioned her.� She told them what

she knew and where she'd been, and Zoe worried about her.� When that

got out, she'd be in the tabloids again, and it wouldn't be pretty.

Tanya Thomas "screwing around" at a dude ranch with the wranglers.

Charlotte thought of it too and went to have a word with the

officers.

They nodded and left.� There wasn't much they could do to suppress

evidence or testimony and no one wanted them to, but nobody needed to

call the papers.� They were very sympathetic, and they knew

Charlotte.

They also promised to send the sheriff into the mountains to look for

Gordon's attacker, and recover the horse he'd stolen.

John Kroner even turned up after a while.� Someone had called him at

home, since he was the physician for the ranch, and he sat and talked

softly with Zoe.� He went up to the O.R.

to see what he could find out, but Gordon was still hanging in the

balance.� The artery had been sewn, but there had apparently been a

lot of damage and blood loss. �Tanya just sat there with her eyes

closed after a while, and Zoe and John took a little walk down the hall

together.

"She doesn't look great," John said to Zoe once they'd walked away.

"Did the guy go after her too?� What was she doing at the corral at

midnight?"� Zoe looked at him and smiled, he was naive, but he was

young, and she had come to trust him since she'd been there.

"She's in love with him."� That explained all of it, and John nodded.

It was another hour before the head surgeon came to them, and he looked

so grim Tanya almost fainted when she saw him.� Zoe was holding tightly

to her hand, and Tanya was already crying before he said a word.� He

looked right at her, as though he understood the situation perfectly.

He had no idea who she was and he didn't care.� He could see what was

happening to her and who he needed to speak to.� "He's going to be all

right," he said in a single breath, and Tanya burst into sobs and clung

to Zoe.

"It's okay, Tan .� . . it's okay .� . . he's going to make it .� . .

shhh .� . . baby."

"Oh, God, I thought he was dead," she said as the others turned away

discreetly and let her vent her terror.� The surgeon explained to

Charlotte that there had been ligaments and nerves involved, but he

thought Gordon would be fine.� He didn't even think he'd need

additional surgery, just therapy, and a week or two of convalescence.

He had lost a lot of blood, but Tanya and Zoe had both acted quickly

and saved him.

The doctor had decided not to give him a transfusion, and he thought

that if he did well, and wasn't in too much pain, and didn't run a

fever, he might even go back to the ranch the next morning.� Charlotte

nodded, and thanked him, and then the surgeon turned back to Tanya.

"Would you like to see him?"� He smiled at her.� "You and the doctor

here did a fine job hanging on to him for us.� Without you holding that

artery, he'd never have made it.� He'd have been gone in minutes."

Tanya nodded, unable to speak for a minute.

"Is he awake?"� she asked, as she followed him down the hall.� The

others had decided to wait in the waiting room, and were talking

animatedly about what had happened.

"More or less," the doctor smiled at her, thinking what a pretty woman

she was.� He figured her for about thirty, and had no idea that she was

Tanya Thomas.� "He's a little groggy and a little drunk, but he asked

for you as soon as he woke up.� You're Tanny, right?"� She nodded.

She followed the doctor into the recovery room and put on a gown, there

were half a dozen nurses standing around, and twice as many machines

from what Tanya could see, but he lifted his head and smiled at her

when he saw her.

"Hi, baby," he said, and she leaned down and kissed him.

"You scared me to death," she said.

"Sorry .� . . I was trying to keep him away from the horses, and he got

me."

"You're lucky he didn't kill you," she said, still shaken by the entire

evening.

"The doctor says you saved me."� A long look passed between them that

no one could mistake and she kissed him again.

'l love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said, and then turned his head toward her and

closed his eyes for a minute.� She asked the doctor if she could stay,

and he said she could, if she wanted.� And she went out and told Zoe.

"Are you sure?"� Charlotte Collins asked.� "I can bring you back

tomorrow."

"I'd like to stay," Tanya said quietly, and then she looked at Gordon's

employer apologetically.� "I'm sorry about what's been happening .� .

.

about him .� . . I don't mean to create trouble for him."� But there

was no way to hide it now, and Charlotte nodded, smiling.

"I know.� Don't worry about it.� Everything's all right.� Just be

careful."� Like Zoe, she was concerned about Tanya.� Zoe said something

to her before she left, about being mobbed by the press.� And Tanya

told her not to worry.� No one had the least idea who she was at the

hospital.

The two women left, and John Kroner went home, and she went back to

Gordon.� He was sleeping.� And they set up a small cot in the recovery

room for her, and at six in the morning, they moved him to his own room

and she went with him.� He was awake by then, and claimed that he was

fine, but he looked pretty rocky.

"I feel fine, let's go home," he said, but he was too dizzy from the

loss of blood to sit up, and Tanya shook a finger at him "Yeah, you

look great.� Lie down and be quiet."� She scolded him and he laughed.

This was a golden opportunity to push him around, and he loved it.

"Just because you saved my life doesn't mean you get to tell me what to

do for the rest of my life," he said, looking peevish, but he couldn't

help looking at her and grinning.� "You look tired, Tan," he said then,

looking worried.

""You scared the hell out of me."� But she had one more thing to do on

the way home before she could sleep.� And she was disappointed, she had

wanted to go on a ride with him.� She had Tom coming for him, and he

could lie down in the back and take it easy.

The doctor said he could leave at noon, because he had developed no

complications and had no fever, and Tom came for them, as Tanya had

asked.� Gordon whistled from the wheelchair as he saw the bus arrive.

"Subtle, aren't we?"� He grinned.� "How am I going to explain this to

Charlotte?� Or are we totally blown out of the water?"

"I'd say she got a small clue last night, while I was clutching her arm

in the waiting room, waiting to hear from the doctor.� Actually," Tanya

said seriously, "she was very decent about it.� I think she understood

completely."

"I hope so.� Getting slashed in the middle of the night with you around

wasn't exactly in my plans," he said, still looking a little unnerved

by it.� But he seemed reasonably healthy, although she could tell the

arm hurt.� He wouldn't admit it, but he winced when he moved it.� They

had given him painkillers to take home, but he claimed that all he

needed was a shot of whiskey.

She settled him in the back of the bus in one of the beds, and propped

his arm up comfortably on pillows, and he grinned at her as she handed

him a Coke, and they took off for the ranch, but after a while he

glanced out the window and looked puzzled.

"I hate to tell you this, Tan, but your driver is going by way of

China."

"I thought you'd like a little scenic tour on the way back."� He didn't

want to tell her he wanted a scenic tour of his bed, he was afraid to

hurt her feelings, so he nodded, and kissed her.

"I just want you to know, I'm not going to let this affect our sex

life," he said, and she laughed.

"Let me tell you, about midnight last night, your sex life was the

least of your problems."� Neither of them could believe what had

happened.

She noticed just then that they had almost reached their destination.

She glanced out the window and saw it.� They had come around a bend,

and were looking out over a bluff, just beneath the mountains.� It was

a place she had gone to with him the week before, and he recognized it

as he looked out the window.

"What did you want to come back here for?"� He looked amused and sat

up, as he looked outside.� "I love this place," he said.� He wondered

if she was just being sentimental, and he leaned over and kissed her,

but she was laughing.

"I hope so," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I own it."

"You what?"� He looked completely confused by what she was saying.

"You do not.� This is the old Parker Ranch.� I've known it for years.

I brought you here last Sunday."

"I know."� She looked extremely pleased with herself as she kissed

him.

"I bought it on Monday."

"You're crazy."� He looked completely overwhelmed and for a minute she

was afraid he'd be angry.� "Why did you do that?"� He wanted to believe

all this, but he just couldn't.� He had brought her to see a ranch on

Sunday, and the next day, she bought it.� It defied the imagination.

"You told me I should buy a ranch here."

"So you did?"� He stared at her.� "Just like that?"

"The realtor said it was a great investment, and the price was fairly

okay, so I figured I'd try it.� I thought we'd do what you said.� You

can breed horses here, I can commute.� You can do some stuff for

Charlotte Collins.� You help me run my little ranch.� But we fix it up

first.� And we'll see.� If we hate it, if you run off with some other

rock star, if you decide to move to L.A. and give up broncos, I can

always sell it.� I figured we'd try it."

"Oh, baby," he said, and grabbed her close to him with his good arm.

He knew it was for real now.� No kidding.� "You are .� amazmg.

"Will you help me do it?"

"Of course I will," he said breathlessly, after what she'd done for

him, there was nothing he wouldn't do now.� She had proven herself in

every way, and he knew he'd never forget it.

"I wanted to ride over here with you today, and show you."

"I can't believe this."� He was still beaming as they pulled away and

he looked at her again in amazement.� "You really want to do this with

me?"

It was such a leap of faith for her, such a gift for both of them, it

defied the imagination.� He really did feel as though he'd died the

night before and gone to Heaven.� "How can you be so decent and so

trusting?"� he asked.

"Just stupid, I guess."� She smiled and took a sip of his Coke, and

settled him back on his pillows.� "Is there any reason that I

shouldn't?"

"No, ma'am," he said proudly, "you're going to have the best little

ranch in Wyoming.� When can we start fixing it up?"

"As soon as you can fly again," she pointed to his broken wing, "it's

ours next week."� It was hers of course, but she was going to share it

with him.� She figured she'd give it to him as a wedding present if

they got married, but that was for later.� She still had to get her

divorce from Tony, and it wouldn't be final till Christmas.� But after

that .� .

. the possibilities were endless.� The sky was the limit.

When they got to the ranch, and people saw the bus arrive, the whole

staff was waiting outside his cabin, and they cheered as Tom helped him

down the steps and into his cabin.� Tanya was walking behind them.� She

was too afraid to hurt him if she moved his arm wrong.� Everyone wanted

to talk to him, tell him how glad they were that he was okay.� They had

brought him books and candy and food, and tapes.� He had everything he

needed.� And now he had a woman who loved him, and the ranch he had

always dreamed of.� It brought tears to his eyes when he was finally

alone with her again in his cabin.

"I still can't believe you.� Nothing in my life has ever been like

this."

"Me too," she said.� "I love it here, and I want to be with you."

"I'll come to L.A. too, whenever I can," he reassured her.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."� She had learned that lesson

now.� She lived in a difficult world, and if he didn't want to be part

of it, she wouldn't force him.

"I want to.� You've seen my world, you're part of it now.� I want to

see your world too.� We can have both, as long as we understand each

other."

"My world can be brutal," she said sadly, "it'll hurt you terribly,

even if you're careful.� Nothing's sacred.� I don't want them to hurt

you."� But as it turned out, she couldn't stop them.� The whole story

was in the paper the next day, fed to the wire services, and it was on

the front page of the tabloids, about how Tanya Thomas had gone to a

ranch two weeks before, had an affair with a cowboy, and bought him a

ranch a week later.� It said how much she had supposedly paid for it,

and added roughly a million dollars.� And then it told the story of

each of her husbands.� Most of that was wrong, and all of it was

ugly.

The headline in the tabloids was A QUIC.KIE, OR HUBBY NO.� 4?� WHICH IS

IT, TANYA?� It approximated how much money he made a year, and how much

e did, and it ridiculed her in every way.� It cheapened him, it made

her sound like a whore.� It even made her look like a fool for singing

the anthem at the rodeo, and they had the pictures they'd taken outside

the bus there.� It even told the story of how he'd been stabbed

allegedly by another wrangler fighting over her in the corral.� It made

the knifing sound like a fight between two men vying for Tanya, and the

article claimed she'd nearly been killed trying to stop them. �She sat

in her room at the ranch, feeling sick as she read it.� The trouble

was, there was always just enough truth in those stories to make people

wonder.� And she was worried about Gordon.� What would he think of her

when he read it?

"Don't read that shit," Zoe said, furious at what they'd done to her.

And then she couldn't help asking.� "Did you really buy him a ranch?

It's probably bullshit, but I wondered."

"No, I bought me one.� But he's going to help me.� I think I've gotten

smart enough not to try and drag him into my life.� He's happy here.� I

don't want to spoil that, so I want to spend some time here."

"That's fair," Zoe said.� "I just wondered.� And Tan, I'm sorry."

"Me too," Tanya said miserably.� "I used to wonder who talks, but I

guess they all do.� The cops, the press, the nurses, the ambulance

drivers, the hairdressers of the world, and the tourists, the realtors,

even friends sometimes.� It's hopeless.� Everyone supplies a tiny

little piece of information and then they weave it into a knife and

stab you with it, right through the heart."

She wondered how Gordon was feeling.� Rotten probably.� How could he

not?

They managed to make everything good look sleazy.� She had stayed with

him the night before, and cooked dinner for him, and she hadn't even

left him till daylight.� It wasn't much of a secret now that she was

with him.� And when she'd gone back to her own cabin, she'd seen the

papers.

The others were thinking about hiding them, but they knew there was no

point.� She'd find out eventually, and it was better to face it.

"I can't believe those bastards," Mary Stuart said in fury to

Hartley.

He'd experienced it too, though never to that extent.� And his success

was different from Tanya's.� Writers weren't usually devoured by

tabloids, except for a few select ones.� But Tanya was fair game, as

far as they were concerned.� And they loved to hate her.

She took the paper with her when she walked back to Gordon's cabin

later that morning.� The others had gone out for a last ride, and John

Kroner had come over to go with them.� He was riding with Zoe.� Tanya

was sorry not to go, but she wanted to be with Gordon.� And now she

wanted to talk to him about the papers.� But the moment she walked in,

she knew he'd seen it.� There was something pained in his eyes, a kind

of embarrassment, and she wondered if it was over between them.� She

looked at him long and hard.� He was sitting on the couch, watching TV

and drinking coffee.� It had been on the news too, with a picture of

him, and the slasher story, but she didn't know that.� He couldn't

believe how they could distort the truth that way.� And as he looked at

her, he wondered what she was feeling.

"How's the arm?"� she asked, and he moved it a little bit to show her

he could.� But it wasn't the arm she was worried about now.� It was how

he felt about her after the story in the paper.

"You paid too much for the ranch," he said matter-of factly, and she

looked at him as she sat down.� He had read the story "How do you like

making headlines?"� she asked, watching his eyes.� He hadn't reached

out his arm to her yet, or told her he loved her.� He was digesting

what had happened.

"I can think of better ways to do it, like shooting a reporter.� I'd

like to."

"Get used to it," she said, with a hard edge to her voice.� They had

done this to her before, but never quite as viciously, or as cruelly.

They had demeaned him, they had made her look ridiculous and cheap and

like a slut.� It was typical of what they did.� Life as an object at

its finest.� "This is what they do all the time, Gordon.� They do it

constantly.� They take everything you do and turn it to shit.� They

make you look cheap and stupid and they misconstrue everything and

misquote you.� There is nothing sacred.� Can you live with that?"

"No," he said simply, looking her right in the eye, and her heart

stopped.� "And I don't want you to either.� If that's how they treat

you, then I want you to stay here."

"But they do it here too.� Who do you think gave them the story?

Everyone.� The realtor, the nurses last night, the paramedics, the

cops, the grand marshal at the Rodeo.� Everyone wants to feel

important, and in order to do that they sell my ass out."

"They can't.� I own it," he said with a glimmer in his eye, and she

looked at him ruefully.

"As a matter of fact you do," she said, wishing it hadn't happened,

that they hadn't been dragged through the papers, "but I want you to

face the fact that everything we do or I touch is going to end up like

this.� If I have a baby, they're going to claim it's someone else's

because I'm too old to have one, or they'll say I screwed the mailman,

if we hire a cleaning woman they're going to say you're fucking her

because I'm in L.A if I buy you a present sometime, they're going to

say how much it costs before I even give it to you, and then make you

look like a gigolo because you accepted it in the first place.

They're going to beat on US every day, in every way they can, and if we

have kids, they're going to torture them too.� It doesn't matter if I

live here, or there, or in ATenezuela, that's what my life is, and I

want you to see that now, or you're going to hate me later.� And even

if you look at it and think it won't bother you, understand that after

it has happened and happened and every dentist you go to, or dry

cleaner, or hooker, Cod forbid, because I'd kill you," she added, and

he grinned, "but every single person you do business with, with only

one or two exceptions, will sell you out and make you look like

garbage.� And maybe the ninety-third time it happens to you, you'll

start to hate me.� It's happened to me before.� I know what happens.� I

know how it feels.� It erodes your life like cancer.� I've lost two

husbands to it, and the third one was so corrupt he sold my ass out to

the tabloids more than anyone else did."� It was her second husband,

the manager, who had done that.

"Sounds like you've had a great life," he said, she had never told him

that much about it, but he suspected it was painful.

"What are you expecting, Tanny?"� he asked her sadly, but he could see

it in her eyes now.� "Are you expecting me to leave now?� If you are,

you'll be disappointed.� I don't scare that easy.� And I know what your

life is like.� I see the tabloids.� I know the kind of crap they

write.

And you're right, it feels different when they write about you.� I

opened the paper this morning and I wanted to kill someone.� But you're

not the one who did it.� You're the victim, not the asshole."

"People forget that," she said unhappily, "and they can't take it out

on them.� There's nothing you can do to them.� It's not even worth

suing them, no matter how much they lie, you just sell their papers for

them.

So in the end, you'll end up hating me because they hurt you."

"I love you," he said clearly, as he stood up and looked at her.� "I

love you.� I don't want this to happen to you.� And yeah, I'm going to

hate it when they say this stuff about me, and there's plenty to say.

I'm just a dumb cowboy from Texas, they'll all think I'm after your

money.� They're going to say you picked me up here.

So what?� You're real.� I'm real.� It just means I can't sit on my ass

in Wyoming all the time, like I thought.� I'll have to spend more time

in L.A. protecting you, because I'm sure as hell not going to let you

take this crap without me.� Maybe we'll both have to commute for a

while, until you get tired of it and decide to breed horses with me."

"I'm not giving up my career," she said, looking worried.� "Even with

all this shit, I like what I do."� And she loved the .� .

singing.

"So do I. I would never ask you to give it up.� And maybe it won't work

living here part of the time.� But I'd like you to try it.� let's see

what happens.� I want to be with you, here, there, wherever.� I love

you, Tanny.� I don't give a damn about what they say about us."

"Do you really mean that?� Even after all this?"� She waved the paper

at him.

"Of course I mean it."� He grinned at her, and then he came over to

where she sat and kissed her.� "They said you lured me to bed with

promises of buying me a ranch.� When did I miss that part?"

"You were sleeping," she grinned, "I whispered it to you."

"You're an amazing woman, and I don't know how you put up with all this

garbage."

"Neither do I," she said, leaning her head against him, as he sat down

beside her and put an arm around her.� "I hate them."

"Don't waste your energy.� But I'll tell you one thing.� You need to be

a lot more careful.� No more singing at rodeos, no more floating around

hospitals thinking no one knows who you are, no more just marching in

and buying ranches.� Let's get a little sneaky about this, okay?� You

can hide behind me if you want to.� I don't care what they say.� In my

case, it's probably all true anyway.� Let me take the heat for you."

"Gordon, I love you.� I thought you'd never want to see me after

today."� She had been so worried as soon as she saw the paper.

"Not likely," he grinned.� "I was sitting here trying to figure out if

I could talk Charlotte into a weekend off next week, so I could come to

L.A. and surprise you.� Maybe with the broken wing now, she'll let me

go for a few days since I'll be pretty useless."

"Would you do that if you can?� I'd love it."

"I'll try.� She and I are going to have to sit down and have a serious

talk next week anyway.� I'd like to start working here part-time after

the summer."

"Don't forget Europe and Asia next winter.� It'll be a night mare."

"You make it sound terrific," he smiled.� "I can hardly wait."

"Neither can I."� She looked at him, thinking of how different her life

was going to be now, with Gordon to take care of her and protect her.

She wanted to be there for him too, but no one had ever treated her as

he did.

"Where are we going to be at Christmas, by the way?"

"I forget .� . . Germany .� . . London .� . . Paris .� maybe Munich."

She couldn't remember.

"How about getting married in Munich?"� he said softly he kissed her.

"I think I want to get married in Wyoming," she said, "looking up at

the mountains where I found you."

"We can work that out later," he said, pulling her to her feet and into

his arms, holding her with his good arm, "we have something else to

work out before that," he said, pulling her toward his bedroom.� "It's

time for my nap."� But she suspected he wanted to see if everything was

still working.� It was painful to realize this was their last day

together.

They spent the whole afternoon in bed, while everyone else was

riding.

He fell asleep in her arms, and she held him for a long time, unable to

believe her good fortune.� And she had almost lost him two days

before.

It didn't bear thinking.

Hartley was very quiet that afternoon as they rode alone, he was trying

to cope with the idea of losing her, if she didn't come back to him

after london.

"Don't do that to yourself," Mary Stuart said gently when he told her

what he was thinking.

"I have to.� What if you don't come back?� What will I do then?� I just

found you, and I can't imagine losing you so quickly."� He didn't say

it to her, but he knew he'd write about it.� It wouldn't change

anything but at least it would allow him to work out the feelings.

"You can't promise me you'll be back, Mary Stuart.� You don't know

that."

"That's true.� But we have so many losses in life.� Why taste them

before they happen?"

"Because the taste is too bitter when you don't.� I'll miss you so much

if I lose you," he said nostalgically, and she leaned over and kissed

him.

"I'll do my best to return very quickly."� And she meant to, but he

surprised her with what he said next.

"Don't even come back if you can save your marriage," he said

wistfully.� "Margaret and I almost divorced once.� I had an affair

when we'd been married for about ten years.� It was very stupid of me,

and I never did it any other time.� I don't know what happened, we'd

been having problems, we were dealing with the fact that she couldn't

have children then and it was very difficult for her.� She kind of went

crazy for a while, and she put a lot of distance between us.� I think

she blamed me, as much as herself, because she couldn't get pregnant.

Whatever the reason, I did it, and she found out.� We were separated

for six months because of it, and I continued the affair, which was

even more stupid.� By then I thought I was in love with her, and it was

even more complicated.� She was French, and I was in Paris with her.� I

went to New York to tell Margaret I was going to divorce her.� But when

I got there, I found that everything I had always loved about her was

still there, and so were all the things I didn't like as well, and all

the reasons why I had cheated on her in the first place.� She had all

the inadequacies, the neuroses, the irrationalities that made her

difficult, and all the things I adored about her as well, her honesty,

her loyalty, her creativity, her wonderful sense of humor, her bright

mind, her discretion, her sense of fairness.� There were a million

things I loved about her."� He had tears in his eyes when he said it,

and so did Mary Stuart.� "When I went back to New York to say good-bye

to Margaret, I fell in love with her all over again."� He took a breath

and looked out over the mountains.� "I never went back to the woman in

Paris.� She knew when I left that it would happen that way.� She'd said

so.� We had worked out a code.� She said she couldn't bear long

explanations, and she didn't want them.� Two words would do.� If I'd

worked it out with Margaret to leave her, all I had to do was write,

Bonjour, Arielle' in a telegram.

That was a long time ago," he smiled, "before faxes.� And if Margaret

and I got back together, Adieu, Arielle' would do it.� She was

extremely downto-earth, and very much no-nonsense.� I left for New York

promising her she had nothing to worry about, and met my Delilah, she

chopped off my hair, won my heart, and I never left her side again .

.

. the telegram read Adieu, Arielle."� And I never saw her again.� That

was what she wanted.� But I never forgot her."� It was a sad story and

it touched Mary Stuart.� "If that happens with us, Mary Stuart," he

looked into her eyes and meant every word of it, "I want you to know

that I won't regret this for a moment, and I will love you forever.� I

will move on, and I will recover.� Arielle married a very important

minister, and she became a very successful writer, but I'm sure she

never forgot me.� I never forgot her."� He smiled wickedly then.

"Margaret never forgot her either.

I never quite lived that down, but I think she forgave me.� It was an

awful mess for a while when it first happened.� But I just want you to

know I won't regret this, it's been the happiest two weeks of my life

here with you."� And she had finally helped him get over losillg

Margaret.� He was feeling much better.

"It's been the happiest two weeks of my life too," she said.

"And I won't forget you either.� But I don't think I'll stay with Bill,

Hartley, I really don't."� And she truly meant it.

"You never know what will happen between two people.� See what happens

when you talk to him.� If I had left Margaret then, I would have missed

sixteen more years with her, and they were great ones.� Be open to

whatever happens.� That's the fairest thing I can tell you."

"I shall always love you," she said softly.

"And I you.� That's what you can send me in the fax then."� He had

found the code they'd been seeking.� ""Adieu, Arielle," or "Bonjour,

Arielle," to let me know what happens."

"It'll be Bonjour, Arielle," " she said, looking certain as they rode

back to the stables with the wrangler standing in for Gordon.

And as they rode, Zoe was having coffee with John Kroner.� They had

become fast friends in the two weeks she'd been there.� She'd gone to

the hospital to see him several times, and he loved coming to the ranch

to see her.� He had promised to visit her in San Francisco.

"There's a patient I'll want to consult you about soon," he was

saying.

"I just started him and his lover on AZT.� He's HIV positive, they both

are, but so far they're both asymptomatic."

""You're doing the right thing then.� You don't need me," she smiled

comfortably at him.� She was sure Sam would like him too, and she was

anxious to introduce them.� Sam had been calling her daily, more to

talk about them than her practice.� And she found she liked it.

SYou're doing a greatjob with your patients," she encouraged John again,

and thanked him for his help when she wasn't feeling well.� "You know,"

she said philosophically, "I have so much empathy for them now," she

was referring to her patients.� "I used to think I understood what it

was like for them, hearing that death sentence and then waiting for it

to strike them.� I felt it so much for them.� But I still didn't really

understand it."� She looked right at him so intensely.� "I never knew

until it happened to me," she touched his hand then, "you don't know

what it's like, John.� You can't imagine."

"Yes, I can," he said quietly.� "I'm HIV positive too.� I'm the patient

I just mentioned.� We both are.� And when we start getting sick, I want

to come to you ior a consultation," he said matter-of-factly, and she

looked stunned.� She didn't know why she was, but she hadn't expected

it.

He had AIDS, and so did his lover.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," he said philosophically, "we're all in this

together."� There were tears in Zoe's eyes when she hugged him.

They all had a quiet night that night.� Hartley and Mary Stuart spent

hours talking, Zoe was on the phone with Sam in her room, and Tanya was

at the cabin with Gordon.� They were all talking about their plans,

their dreams, the things that had happened at the ranch, and how much

they wanted to come back here.� It had been magical for all of them.

And Tanya and Gordon were talking about their plans for the ranch she

had just bought.� They had all but forgotten the tabloids.� He had

talked to Charlotte that afternoon, and he was coming to see Tanya in

L.A. the following weekend.� This was the beginning.� And they were

both excited about all of it.� There was so much Tanya wanted to share

with him.� He wanted to walk down Sunset Boulevard, see the Pacific,

meet her friends, see the studio where she rehearsed and recorded, she

wanted to spend the weekend with him in Malibu, walk down the beach

with him, and take him to Spago.� They were going to do all of it if

they could, and two weeks later, she would be flying back to Wyoming to

see him.

"I wish I could go with you tomorrow," he said sadly.� "I hate to think

of what you have to face alone there."

"I wish I could stay here," she said, and meant it.� She hated to leave

him, this place, and the mountains.

"You'll be back," he said, pulling her close to him, and she closed her

eyes, trying to engrave it on her memory for when she left it.� She

knew it would never be quite like this again.� They would not be in

this cabin, sealed off from the world.� It would never be this simple

again.� They would be in their own house, and they would be part of the

world after this.� It would own a piece of them, and grab whatever it

could take from them.� Right now, they were safe here, and she loved

it.

And she hoped that they could re-create some of that at the ranch she

had just bought in the foothills.

"I want it just like this," she said to him, and he laughed.

"Could we have it just a tad bigger, Tanny?� I stub my toe every time I

get out of bed here."� He was a big man and it was a small house, but

he knew what she meant, and he had lots of ideas about it.� He had been

gathering thoughts for years about a ranch of his own and he knew just

what to do now.

They talked late into the night, and made love at dawn, just as the sun

came up, and then he wrapped her in a blanket and they went outside and

watched the light on the mountains.� It was exquisite.

"It's going to be a beautiful day," he said, "I wish you'd be here with

me."� She could hardly bear the thought of leaving.

None of them could.� They were all crying as they said good-bye at the

bus.� Hartley held Mary Stuart in his arms for ages.� John Kroner and

his friend had come to say good-bye, and they both hugged Zoe and all

the others.� And everyone applauded when Gordon kissed Tanya right out

in the open.

And they all thanked Charlotte Collins when they left.� And all three

women were crying as they boarded the bus.� Mary Stuart stood there

forever looking at Hartley.� And Tanya hung out the window and warned

Gordon to stay away from broncos.� He waved his hat at her for as long

as he could with his good arm, and Zoe wondered if she'd ever see the

place again, while Mary Stuart silently prayed that she'd see Hartley

in New York after her trip to London.� A thousand questions had been

born at the ranch in those two weeks, but they did not yet have all the

answers.

And as Tom drove the bus away, they all sat quietly, lost in their own

thoughts, thinking of the people and the dreams they'd left there.

They didn't talk for a long time, and they kept to themselves.� Tom

planned to have them in San Francisco at midnight.

When the bus pulled up to Zoe's house, they were all asleep.� They had

stayed up for hours, laughing and talking about the men in their

lives.

They made something to eat and shared it with Tom, and eventually they

fell asleep.� It had been a big day for them.� And Tanya had to wake

Zoe up when they got there.� She was in a deep sleep and smiled when

they woke her.� She had made them promise to come in a minute and see

her baby, even though she'd be sleeping, and they'd both agreed to

it.

Tanya woke Mary Stuart too, and the threesome walked up the steps to

Zoe's house, and waited while she found her key in her handbag.� She

opened the door as quietly as she could, and they tiptoed into the

living room, on their way upstairs to see the baby.� And as Zoe walked

in, she saw that there were toys everywhere, a plate of food, and a

bottle, and then she saw them.� Sam was sound asleep on the couch, with

Jade in his arms.� They had waited for them for hours.� Inge had gone

upstairs to bed long since, and Sam had kept Jade up so she could see

her mommy.� And the three women looked at them with warm approval.

Zoe took a few steps toward them, and bent to kiss the sleeping child,

and then Sam opened his eyes and saw her.� He barely moved, and smiled

as she looked at him, and then she kissed him too, gently on the cheek

at first, and then on the lips as her two friends watched her.

"I missed you," he whispered, and then he stood up to meet the

others.

He was still carrying Jade and she was sound asleep and didn't stir.

They had become good friends in the past two weeks and she really loved

him.

She had been perfectly happy to fall asleep in his arms, waiting for

her mommy.� "She was dying to see you," he explained, and Zoe smiled.

"Me too," he said, putting an arm around her.� "Are you okay?"� He

looked concerned and she nodded.

Mary Stuart and Tanya were anxious to get going.� Tom wanted to drink a

lot of coffee and keep driving, and get to L.A. by morning.� They had

another six hours of travel ahead of them, and it was time to go now,

though they would have liked to spend more time with Sam and Zoe, but

they knew they couldn't.� And it was time for Zoe to be with Sam now.

He still had an arm around her shoulders when they left, after a

tearful good-bye, and Sam and Zoe waved from the stairs as the bus

pulled away, and then he took Zoe inside, and set Jade down on the

couch, and gently took her mother into his arms and kissed her.

The bus reached L.A on schedule, at six o'clock the next morning.� It

had been almost twenty-four hours since they left Wyoming.� And when

they got to the house, Mary Stuart found a fax from her husband.� He

was inquiring about exactly when she was arriving.� She had her

reservations made, but she had not yet told him.� And there was a long

list of messages for Tanya, from her lawyers, her secretary, and her

agents.� But looking at it now, after being in Wyoming for the past two

weeks, it all seemed less important.� And as the sun came up l over L.A

Mary Stuart and Tanya sat at her kitchen table.� It was an enormous

room, and it felt good to be home in a way, but they both missed

Wyoming.� They had left a great deal there.� And they sat in the

kitchen, talking about Gordon and Hartley.� It had been an

extraordinary trip for all of them, it was hard to believe now it had

happened.

"When are you going to London?"� Tanya asked.� She didn't know

either.

"I thought I'd stick around today and tomorrow, and go Wednesday," she

said, "unless you want me to go sooner."

"Are you kidding?"� Tanya said easily.� "I wish you'd stay forever.

And I hope you come back soon."� They had both made Zoe promise to stay

in touch, and they were talking about spending a weekend with her

somewhere, maybe in Carmel, if she felt up to it, or Malibu at Tanya's,

or even in San Francisco.� They all thought it sounded terrific.� They

were not going to let time or distance or, worse yet, tragedy get

between them.

Tanya spent the entire day working with her secretary, and trying to

make decisions after two weeks away, and late that afternoon, Gordon

called her.� He was fine, working in the corral, missing her like

crazy, and he'd gone up to see the house, and had a contractor drawing

up plans for her.� He said they'd be ready to move in, in no time.� And

she told him about all the horrors of coming back to work in the real

world.� He told her to just hang in until he got there.

"I can't wait," she said, her eyes filling with excitement.

"Neither can I," he said, closing his eyes, and imagining her just the

way she looked in his cabin in the morning.� He couldn't wait to set

up their ranch now.

They talked for a long time, he had gone to a pay phone to call her.

He kept putting quarters in, and he refused to let her call the number,

or call her collect in future.� He was stubborn.� And he promised to

call her again the next day, and asked her to say hello to Mary

Stuart.

She had heard nothing from Hartley but she didn't expect to.� They had

agreed not to call each other until she settled matters in london.

And she didn't even know where to reach him in Boston or Seattle.� She

knew he'd be home on Thursday.� And she knew what the code was.

"Adieu, Arielle," or "Bonjour, Arielle," depending on what happened

with her marriage.

Tanya took her to Spago that night, and introduced her to Wolfgang

Puck, the owner, and she explained who everyone was.� Victoria

Principal was having dinner with a big group.� George Hamilton was

there.� Harry Hamlin .� . . Jaclyn Smith .� . . Warren Beatty .� . .

And George Christy of the Hollywoood Reporter was at a corner table.

And everyone knew Tanya, but it was one of the few places in Hollywood

where, no matter how big the star was, they never disturbed her.

She and Mary Stuart talked for a long time about everything, and Mary

Stuart seemed to have made her mind up.� She went shopping the next day

when Tanya went to rehearsal.� And they went to bed early that night.

Gordon had called again, and there was a fax from Bill, confirming her

arrival.� He had said absolutely nothing personal at all, and Mary

Stuart shook her head when she saw it.

And the next morning when she left, she and Tanya clung to each other

and cried.� She didn't want to leave at all, and they both wanted to

turn the clock back and leave for Wyoming.

"It'll be okay," Tanya encouraged her.� "It'll be fine.� Just think of

Hartley."� It was all Mary Stuart could think of, as she left, and all

the way to London.� She even wrote him a letter.� It would be their

first, she smiled to herself, the first she'd written to him.� Maybe

he'd even keep it.� He was wonderfully sentimental.� She told him how

much he meant to her, and how wonderful Wyoming had been, how empty her

life had been before she met him.� She was going to mail it when she

got to the hotel in London.

The hotel had sent a car for her.� She was staying at Claridge's after

all.� It seemed easier than going to another hotel when he was staying

there.� But she had reserved her own room.� She had no idea if Bill

knew that.� But actually, the hotel had told him.

She went through customs easily, and reached the hotel shortly after.

It was all very civilized, and when she reached Claridge's they ushered

her upstairs like a visiting dignitary from another country.� And they

informed her that Mr. Walker was in the suite he was renting as his

offices, with his secretary, he was working.� But she did not call him

as soon as she reached her room.� She wanted time to regain Iher

composure.

She washed her face and combed her hair and as usual she looked

impeccable in a black linen suit that had traveled perfectly from L.A.

to London.� It was typical of Mary Stuart.

And when she had ordered a cup of tea, and finished it, she called

him.

By then, it was ten o'clock in the morning.� But she had no idea that

Bill was going crazy.� He knew her plane had gotten in at seven.� He

assumed she had gone through customs by eight, and gotten to the hotel

at nine.� And he had called the desk to confirm it.� He knew she was in

her own room, and hadn't called him.� He had been agonizing ever since

then.� But Mary Stuart was in no hurry.� It was Thursday by then.� She

had allowed a day for this, and as she had been unable to reach Alyssa,

she was flying to New York on Friday.� It was certainly a circuitous

route from Wyoming.

He answered on the first ring when she called him.� It was awkward even

speaking to him now, and she gave him her room number, and he said he'd

come right down to see her.� He left his secretary and told her not to

disturb him.� He was going to an important meeting.

Mary Stuart opened the door and looked at him, and it was painful to

see how familiar he looked, how much like the man she had loved for so

long until the year before.� But she knew this man was different.� They

both were.

"Hello, Bill," she said quietly as he came in, and he was about to put

his arms around her, but when he saw her eyes, he decided not to.� "How

are you?"

"Not so great actually," he said, and surprised her.

"Is something wrong?"� It was odd for her, of all people, to ask him.

"I'm afraid so," he said, sitting in a chair, and stretching his long

legs out before him.

"What happened?"� She assumed the case wasn't going well, and she was

sorry to hear it.� He had certainly put enough time and effort into it

to win it.

"Actually," he said, looking at her mourllfully, and seeming very young

to her.� He looked vulnerable and kind of pathetic.� "I've fucked my

life up pretty badly and yours."� She was startled by the way he

looked, and even more so by the way he said it.� She wondered if he was

going to make some terrible confession, like an affair since he'd been

in London.� But in some ways, that might make it easy.� This was not as

easy for her as she'd hoped, just telling him their marriage was

over.

Suddenly he was a real person, with wrinkles and flaws, and things she

had once loved about him.

"What do you mean?"� she asked, looking puzzled.� What did he mean,

he'd fucked his life up?

"I think you know exactly what I mean.� That's why you're here, isn't

it?� I figured that much out, stupid as I am.� And as men go, I've been

pretty dumb.� I've spent the last year with my head buried in my desk

somewhere, thinking that if I ignored you long enough you'd go away, or

my misery and my guilt would, or Todd would come back, or the stupid

things I said to you would be forgotten.� But none of that seemed to

happen.� It just kept getting worse.� I felt more awful every day, and

you've come to hate me.� That was actually pretty predictable, given

the way I behaved.� The only one who didn't predict it though was me,

which is pretty awkward."� He said it all looking like a kid, she had

to smile at what he was saying.� Sometimes he was very endearing.

"Anyway, I don't suppose any of this surprises you.� I think I'm the

only one around here who's amazed not only by my stupidity, but my

behavior.� So now you've come to let me know very politely, and in

person, which is very kind of you, my dear, that you're going to

divorce me."� He was the criminal helping the executioner set up the

guillotine, and agreeing all the while that he deserved it.� It

actually made it harder to kill him.

"Where have you been all year?"� she asked.� It was the one thing she

had wanted to ask him.� "How could you have completely hidden from me,

frozen me out?� You never even spoke to me, or answered questions."� It

had been like living with a robot.� Or a dead man, and he had been.

"I was unhappy," he said.� He was the master of understatement, and she

kept silently reminding herself to think of Hartley.� "So what do we do

now?� Did you bring the divorce papers with you?"� He figured she had

them ready when he talked to her in Wyoming.� It had all suddenly come

clear to him, and he knew exactly why she was coming.

"Was I supposed to?� Do you want them?"

"Do you have them with you?"� He looked ready to sign them, and it

annoyed her even more to see how willing he was to give up on what

they'd had for twenty-two years.� He really didn't care at all, from

what she could see.� And it infuriated her even further.

"No, I do not have our divorce papers with me," she said angrily.

"Hire yourself a lawyer or draw them up yourself.� I can't do

everything, for God's sake.� I came over to talk to you, not have you

sign papers."

"Oh."� He looked startled.� He had also gotten the message when the

concierge told him she had her own room.� He had been about to tell the

housekeeper to prepare for another guest in his room, and it crushed

him when he realized she wasn't going to stay with him.� That certainly

delivered the message.� "You're very angry at me, Stu," he said sadly,

looking at her, wishing he could take it all back, or change it.� "I

don't blame you.� I've been a complete bastard to you.� I can't even

give you an excuse, although you deserve one.� All I can give you is an

apology.� I've been confused ever since Todd died.� I felt so guilty, I

didn't know who to blame.� I blamed myself, but I couldn't stand it, so

I pretended to blame you.� But I never really did.� I was always

convinced it was my fault."

"How could it be your fault?"� She was stunned by what he was saying.

"It wasn't anyone's fault.� It was horrible for all of us, even

Alyssa.

None of us deserved it.� I got really angry at him when I cleaned out

his room, and the funny thing is I felt better after I did that."

"You cleaned out his room?� Why?� Once again, she had surprised him.

"Because it was time.� I put everything away, and packed up his

things.

I gave away his clothes to people who could use them.� I think I

thought that if I left his room there long enough, he'd come back to

it.� I finally figured out that wasn't going to happen."

"I think I figured that out here in London."

Then she shocked him again.� "I want to sell the apartment.� Or you can

do what you want," she corrected herself, "but I don't want to live

there.� It's too depressing.� None of us are ever going to recover as

long as we live there."� Everyone had said not to make hasty decisions,

and they hadn't.� It had been a year now.� "You can live there if you

want, but I won't."� When she went back to New York, she was going to

look for an apartment, unless she decided to live with Hartley.� She

still hadn't decided.� And she knew he would do whatever she wanted.

"Never mind the apartment," Bill finally said bluntly.� "Do you want to

live with me?� I think that's the issue."� He almost fell out of his

chair when she answered, although he had expected it, he still didn't

want to hear it.

"No, I don't," she said calmly.� "Not the way it's been for the past

year.� I would, the way it used to be.� But that's all over."

"What if we could go back again?� If it could be like that, the way it

was before, then what?"

"That doesn't happen," she said sadly, and when she looked up she saw

tears in his eyes and she was sorry for him.

, She had cried so much for the past year, she couldn't cry anymore.

For her, it was all over.� "I'm really sorry."

"So am I," he said, looking vulnerable and human.� It was sad, the body

snatchers had brought him back too late, but it probably didn't matter

anyway, it was only for a visit.� If she had agreed to go back to him,

he probably would have been rotten to her again, and stopped talking to

her, she thought as she looked at him.� She didn't want to chance it.

"I'm sorry I was such a damn fool," he said, his lip trembling, his

eyes filled with tears.� "I just didn't know how to handle what

happened."

"Neither did I," she said, her eyes filling with tears in spite of

herself, "but I needed you.� I had no one."� She sobbed as she said

it.

"Neither did I. I didn't even have me, that's what was so awful.� It

was like I died along with Todd, and I killed our marriage."

"You did," she accused him openly.� This was why she had come to

London.

She at least wanted him to know why she was leaving.� He had a right to

know that.� But he just sat there, crying.� And he looked so miserable

while he did, she just wanted to put her arms around him, but she

forced herself not to do that.

"I wish I could take it all back and do it differently, Stu, but I

can't.� I can't do anything but tell you how sorry I am.� You deserve a

lot better than this.� You always did.� I was a total shit and a

complete moron."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"� she said, pacing around the room

suddenly.� For the first time, she looked angry and flustered.� "Why

are you telling me now what a bastard you were?� Why didn't you do

something about it?"

"I didn't know how to stop.� But I figured it out once I got here.� I

realized what a mistake this was as soon as I got to London.� I was so

lonely I couldn't think straight.� I wanted you here.� I wanted to ask

you to come, but I was too embarrassed to do it, and you were having a

good time at some goddamn dude ranch.� You probably fell in love with a

cowboy, for all I know," he said, looking miserable, and she stared at

him and wanted to shake him.

"You are a complete jerk," she said, with total conviction.� She should

have said it months ago, and was sorry now that she hadn't.

"I'm sorry.� I didn't mean that to be insulting, I just meant I

deserved it."

"You deserve a good swift kick in the behind, and you have all year,

William Walker.� What do you mean you were lonely when you got here?

How could you be stupid enough to set yourself up here for two or three

months and just dump me in New York?� Why should I even be married to

you anymore?"

"You're right.� You shouldn't," he said humbly.

"Good.� I'm glad we agree on that.� Let's get divorced."� She had

finally said it.� It was over, but he was staring at her and shaking

his head at her, which confused her further.

"I don't want to," he said, looking like a kid refusing to go to the

dentist.� "I don't want to divorce you," he said firmly.

"Why not?"� She looked exasperated.

"I love you."� He looked straight into her eyes as he said it, and she

looked away from him and out the window.

"It's a little late for that, I'm afraid," she said sadly.� She would

never believe again that he loved her.� He had proved otherwise for an

entire year now.� He had ignored her, abandoned her, shunned her,

frozen her out, gone to London for two months, and he had never offered

her a moment of comfort when their son died.� He had cheated her of

everything he owed her as a husband.

"It's never too late," he said, still looking at her, but she shook her

head.� She knew different.� "Are you saying you could never forgive meH

That's not like you.� You've always been so forgiving."

"Probably too much so," she said wisely.� "I don't know why, but I do

know it's too late for me.� I'm really sorry," she said, standing up,

and turning her back to him, as she looked out at the rooftops of

London.� She wanted to end their discussion.� She had told him she

wanted a divorce.� This was what she had come for.� And she had a fax

to send .� . . "Bonjour, Arielle" .� . . She wanted Hartley to find it

the moment he walked into his apartment on Friday.

But she hadn't realized that Bill had come up behind her, and she

jumped a foot when he put his arms around her.� "Don't do that,

please," she said, without turning around to see him.

"I want to," he said, sounding desperately unhappy, "just one last

time, please .� . . let me hold you .� .."

"I can't," she said miserably, and turned around to face him.� He had

his arms around her and his face was inches from hers, and he wasn't

letting go.� She wanted to tell him she didn't love him anymore, but

she didn't have the guts to say it.� And it wasn't true yet.� But it

would be one day.� It would just take time.� She had loved him for too

long for it to disappear overnight.� But he had hurt her too much for

her to want to love him.� The only trouble was, she still did though.

"I love you," he said, looking right at her, and she closed her eyes.

He was still holding her and he wouldn't let go, and she didn't want to

see him.

"I don't want to hear it."� But she didn't move away either.

"It's true.� It always was.� I love you .� . . oh, God, even if you

leave me now, please believe that.� I will always love you ... just

like I loved Todd...."� He was crying again, and without meaning to,

she bowed her head, and put it on his shoulder.� She could suddenly

remember how painful it was, when it had happened to them, and Bill

hadn't been there for her.� He had been so dead and hurt and frozen

that he couldn't help her.� And now he was crying for their son, and so

was she, as she clung to her husband.� "I love you so much," Bill said

again, and then he kissed her, and she tried to back away, and pull

away from him, but she couldn't.� Instead she found herself kissing

him, and hating herself for it.� How could she be so weak?� How could

she give in to him?� And the worst thing was that she wanted to kiss

him.

"Don't," she said, when he stopped, and they were both breathless.� But

she found that kissing him had soothed the hurt even if it didn't end

the pain.� And then he kissed her again, and she kissed him, and it

felt like she never wanted him to stop, for forever.� "This is not

appropriate," she said breathlessly.� "I came here to divorce you."

"I know," he said, kissing her, and then suddenly it had gone much

further.� He was touching her and holding her and she was kissing him,

and neither of them could understand their attraction for each other.

It hadn't happened to them for a year, and now suddenly they were both

overwhelmed with desire, and before either of them knew what had

occurred, they were in bed, and she had never wanted him as much or

been more aroused by him, and he was seized with passion for her as he

had never known it.� The room was strewn with their clothes, and they

were both exhausted when they finally stopped.� It had been a year for

both of them, and as she lay and looked at him, she grinned, and then

suddenly she laughed, it was all so absurd, and he was smiling.

"This is disgusting," she said, still grinning at him.� "I came here to

divorce you."

"I know," he said, but he was still smiling.� "I can't believe this.� I

don't know what happened .� . . let's do it again .� .."� And an hour

later, they did.� They talked and they made love, and he lay in her

arms and cried for their son, and what he had done to her, and they

made love again.� He never saw his secretary again that day and she had

no idea what had happened to him except that he had said he was going

to an important meeting, and that was what she told everyone who called

him.

They were still naked and in bed at six o'clock, and they were spent.

He asked her if she wanted room service, but all she wanted was to be

with him, and she slept in his arms.� And when she woke the next

morning, he was looking at her, praying it hadn't been a dream.� The

one thing he knew in his life, with all the uncertainties he'd found,

was that he didn't want to lose her.� And he told her that over

breakfast.� He had ordered a huge breakfast for both of then!, they

were starving, for food and each other.� And as they sat and talked, he

asked her what she wanted to do that day.� He made it sound as though

they were on vacation.

"Don't you have to work?"� she asked, finishing her omelette, and

taking a sip of coffee.

"I'm taking the day off.� If you're going back to New York, I want to

be with you before you go," and then with a sad look, he added, "I'll

take you to the airport."� But after breakfast, they made love again,

and had almost missed her plane by then.� She could have made it if

she'd leapt out of bed and dressed in a hurry, but she didn't want

to.

She wanted to stay.� For a day, a week, the duration of his stay.

Whatever it took.

Maybe forever.� And she said as much to him as they sat together in the

bathtub.

"Will you stay?"� he asked ever so gently, and when she nodded, he

kissed her.

"All I have with me are cowboy boots and jeans, and about two proper

city dresses."� She smiled at him and he looked happier than she'd ever

seen him.

"You'll be all the rage in London.� Do we have to have separate

rooms?"

"No," she said seriously, "but I still want to sell the apartment."� He

thought it was a good idea too.� It was time for them to move on, to

heal, to find each other again, and with any luck at all, start over.

He had every intention of making that happen, and he was grateful to

her for letting him do it.� He swore the nightmare of the past year

would never happen again, and after all the talking they'd done, she

believed him.

He said he wanted to take her out that afternoon, just for a walk, so

he could be with her and talk to her, and remember how sweet it was to

walk beside her.� But he had to stop at his office first.� He had

promised his secretary when he called that he'd sign some papers.� And

Mary Stuart had said she would meet him in the lobby.

She dressed quietly, thinking of him, and the time they had shared, and

she jotted the note with shaking hands once she was dressed.� She was

wearing a brown linen dress, which was the only other respectable dress

she had brought to London, and her hair wasn't as neat as usual.� She

looked younger and just a little bit disheveled.� She had already told

Bill that if she stayed, she had to go shopping.� But she wasn't

thinking of that now, she was thinking of him, the man who had ridden

through the wildflowers with her in Wyoming.

She went downstairs and spoke to the concierge, and he said it was no

problem to send it for her, although he reminded her that her husband

had a private fax already set up in his office.� But she preferred to

do it with the concierge, she explained, and she gave him the fax

number.

She had written out two words, and her eyes filled with tears as she

handed him the paper.

"It will go out immediately, madam," he said, and she trembled at the

pain it would cause, for both of them.� But he had been wiser than she

was.� He had realized better than she had what might happen.

The paper said "Adieu, Arielle."� Nothing more.� Just that.� And she

never mailed him her letter.� There was no point now.� That had been

her promise to him.� Just two words and no explanations.

"Ready for some air?"� Bill asked when he came downstairs.� He thought

she seemed quiet again, and he was worried, and he saw when he looked

at her that she'd been crying.� They'd been in her room for nearly two

days, but they had settled a lot of things, and he put his arms around

her again right there in the lobby.

"It's okay, Stu .� . . I swear it'll be all right .� . . I love you."

But she hadn't been thinking of him.� She'd been saying good-bye to a

friend.

And then, she took her husband's hand, and they walked out into the

sunshine.� The doorman watched them as they walked away, hand in hand,

and he smiled.� It was nice, and so rare, when you saw happy couples.

Life seemed so easy for them.� Or maybe they were just lucky.

the end.