Peter smiled. “It's a beautiful name.” But more than that, she was a beautiful girl.

“Thank you, Dr. Hallam.”

And on those words, Mel noticed that she had a slight Southern drawl, and a moment later Marie mentioned that she had grown up in New Orleans, but she had been in L.A. now for almost five years. “I'd like to go back to N'Orleans someday”—the way she said the words delighted the ear, as she smiled up at Peter again—“after the good doctor here patches me up.” And then she looked searchingly at him as her smile faded and one began to glimpse her worry and pain. “How long do you think that will be?” It was a question no one had an answer to, save God, as they all knew, including Marie.

“We hope soon.” Just the tone of his voice was reassuring, and he went on to reassure her about other things, and to explain to her about what they would be doing to her that day. She didn't seem frightened about the endless tests, but she kept wanting to come back to the big questions again, her enormous blue eyes turned up to him in a pleading way, like a prisoner on death row, seeking a pardon for a crime she did not commit. “You're going to be very busy for the next few days, Marie.” He smiled again and patted her arm. “I'll stop in again to see you tomorrow morning, Marie, and if there's anything else that comes to mind, you can ask me then.” She thanked him, and he and Mel left the room, but once again Melanie was struck with the enormity of each circumstance, the terrors that each one faced, alone, in the end. She wondered who Marie would have to hold her hand, and she somehow sensed that the young woman was alone in life. If not, wouldn't her husband or her family have been there? In other rooms there was evidence of spouses or at least friends, but not here, which was why she seemed so much more dependent on Peter than the others had, or perhaps it was because she was new. But as they walked slowly down the hall, somehow Melanie felt as though they were abandoning her. And Mel looked sadly up at Peter as they went downstairs.

“What'll happen to her?”

“We have to find a donor. And soon.” He seemed preoccupied as well as concerned, and then he remembered Mel. “I'm glad you came along.”

“So am I. She seems like a nice girl.” He nodded, to him they all were, the men, the women, the children. And they were all so desperately dependent on him. It would have frightened him if he had dwelled on it too much. But he seldom did. He just did what he could for them. Although sometimes there was damn little he could do. Mel had wondered for days how he bore the burden of it. With so many lives with so little hope in his hands, and yet there was nothing dismal about the man. He seemed almost a vehicle of hope himself, and once again Melanie was aware of how much she admired him.

“It's been quite a day, hasn't it, Mel?” He smiled at her as they walked outside, still side by side.

“I don't know how you do this every day. I'd be dead in two years. No”—she smiled up at him—“make that two weeks. My God, Peter, the responsibility, the strain. You go from operating room to sickbed to office and back again, and these aren't just people with bunions, each one is a matter of life and death …” She thought of Marie Dupret again.” … like that girl.”

“That's what makes it worthwhile. When you win.” They both thought simultaneously of Pattie Lou, the last report of the day had still been good.

“Yeah, but it's incredibly rough on you. And on top of everything else, you gave me a two-hour interview.”

“I enjoyed that.” He smiled, but his mind was still half engaged with Marie. He had checked the charts, and his colleagues had her well in hand. The main issue was whether or not they would find a donor in time, and there was nothing he could do about that, except pray. Mel found herself thinking of that too.

“Do you think you'll find a donor for Marie?”

“I don't know the answer to that. I hope we do. She doesn't have much time to spare.” None of them did. And that was the worst of it. They sat waiting for someone else to die and give them the gift of life, without which they were doomed.

“I hope so too.” She took a deep breath of the spring air and glanced over at her rented car. “Well”—she stuck out her hand—“I guess that's it for today. For me anyway. I hope you get some rest after a day like this.”

“I always do when I get home to my kids.”

She laughed openly at that. “I don't know how you can say that, if they're anything like mine. Invariably, after an absolutely bitching eighteen-hour day, I crawl home, and Val is torn between two boys she absolutety has to discuss with me, and Jess has a fifty-page science project I have to read that night. They both talk to me at once, and I explode and feel like a total bitch. That's the hard part of being alone, there's no one else to share the load, no matter how tired you are when you get home.”

He smiled. It had a familiar ring. “There's some truth to what you say, Mel. At my house, it's mostly Matt and Pam. Mark is pretty independent by now.”

“How old is he?”

“Almost eighteen.” And then he suddenly had an idea. He looked at Melanie with a small smile as they stood in the parking lot. It was six fifteen. “How about coming home with me now? You could have a quick swim, and eat dinner with us.”

“I couldn't do that.” But she was touched by the thought.

“Why not? It's no fun going back to a hotel room, Mel. Why not come home? We don't eat dinner late, and you could be home by nine o'clock.”

She wasn't sure why, but she was tempted by the idea. “Don't you think your kids would rather have you to themselves?”

“No. I think they'd be very excited to meet you.”

“Don't overestimate that.” But suddenly, the idea really appealed to her. “You're really not too tired?”

“Not at all. Come on, Mel, it would be fun.”

“It would for me.” She smiled. “Shall I follow you in my car?”

“Why not just leave it here.”

“Then you'll have to drive me back. Or I could take a cab.”

“I'll drive you. Then I can have another look at Pattie Lou.”

“Don't you ever stop?” She smiled as she slid into his car, pleased to be going home with him.

“Nope. And neither do you.” He looked as pleased as she as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Bel-Air.

Melanie leaned back against the seat with a sigh as they drove through the huge black wrought-iron gates leading into Bel-Air.

“It's so pleasant here.” It was like driving around in the country as the road swooped and turned, giving glimpses of secluded but palatial homes.

“That's why I like it here. I don't know how you can stand New York.”

“The excitement makes it all worthwhile.” She grinned.

“Do you really like it, Mel?”

“I love it. I love my house, my job, the city, my friends. I'm sold on the place, and I really don't think I could live anyplace else.” And as she said the words, she suddenly realized that it wouldn't be so bad after all to go home the next day. New York was where she belonged, however much she liked L. A. and admired him. And when he glanced at her again, he saw that she looked more relaxed, and with that he made one final left turn, into a well-manicured drive, which led to a large, beautiful French-style house, surrounded by neatly trimmed trees and flower beds. It looked like something on a French postcard and Melanie looked around in surprise. It wasn't at all what she'd expected of him. Somehow she had thought he would live in something more rustic, or a ranch house. But this was actually very elegant, she noticed as he stopped the car.

“It's beautiful, Peter.” She looked up at the mansard roof, and waited to see children but there were none in sight.

“You look surprised.” He laughed.

“No.” She blushed. “It just doesn't look like you.”

And then he smiled again. “It wasn't at first. The design was Anne's. We built it just before Matthew was born.”

“It's really a magnificent house, Peter.” It was, and now she was seeing a whole other side of him.

“Well, come on.” He opened his door and looked over his shoulder for one last instant. “Let's go in, I'll introduce you to the kids. They're probably all around the pool with fourteen friends. Brace yourself.” And with that they both stepped out of the car, and Melanie looked around. It was so totally different from her town house in New York, but it was fun to see how he lived. She followed him inside, with only a slight feeling of trepidation about meeting his children, wondering if they too would be terribly different from her twins.





CHAPTER 6

“You look so surprised, Mel.” He was amused and she laughed and shook her head.