“Hi, Mom.” And then she saw the serious looks they wore. “Should I go?”

“No.” Melanie was quick to shake her head. “Hello, love.” Valerie bent to give her a kiss and a smile. She looked so different from Melanie and Jess that one almost wondered if she were related to the other two. She was smaller than both Melanie and her twin, but with a voluptuous body that made men drool as she walked by, large, full breasts, a tiny waist, small, rounded hips, shapely legs, and a curtain of blond hair that fell almost to her waist. There were times when Melanie saw men's reactions to her child and almost visibly cringed. Even Grant had been taken aback when he'd seen her recently. “For God's sake, Mel, put a bag over the child's head until she turns twenty-five, or you'll drive the neighborhood mad.” But Melanie had responded with a rueful smile, “I don't think putting it over just her head would do the trick.” She watched Valerie with a careful eye, more so than Jess, because one sensed instantly about Valerie that she was almost too open and very naive. Val was bright, but not as sharp as her twin, part of her charm was that she was almost totally unaware of herself. She breezed in and out of a room with the happy-go-lucky ease of a child of three, leaving men panting in her wake, as she unconcernedly went on her way. It was Jessica who had always watched over her in school, and even more so now. Jessica was well aware of how Valerie looked, so Valerie had two mothers watching over her.

“We watched you tonight on the news. You were good.” But unlike Jessica, she didn't say why, didn't analyze, didn't criticize, and in a funny way, what went on in Jessica's head made her almost more beautiful than her dazzling twin. And together, they were quite a pair, the one redheaded and long and lean, the other so voluptuous and soft and blond. “Are you having dinner with us tonight?”

“I sure am. I turned down dinner with Grant to have dinner with you two.”

“Why didn't you bring him home?” Val looked instantly chagrined.

“Because I enjoy being alone with you sometimes. I can see him some other time.” Val shrugged, and Jessica nodded, and at that instant, Raquel buzzed them from downstairs on the intercom. Val picked it up first, said “Okay,” and then hung up, and turned to her mother and twin.

“Dinner's on, and Raquel sounds pissed.”

“Val!” Melanie didn't look pleased. “Don't talk like that.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.”

“That's not enough reason for you to.” And with that, the threesome went downstairs, bantering about their day, Mel told them about the special on child abuse, she even told them about Pattie Lou Jones, desperate for a heart transplant which Mel had been assigned to find.

“How are you supposed to do that, Mom?” Jess looked intrigued. She loved stories like that, and thought that her mother did them exceedingly well.

“Grant said he'd give me some names, he did a show on four big heart-transplant specialists last year, and the network research people will give me some leads.”

“It should be a good piece.”

“Sounds disgusting to me.” Val made a face, as they walked into the dining room and Raquel glared.

“You think I gonna wait all night?” She grunted loudly and whisked through the swinging door, as the threesome exchanged a smile.

“She'd go crazy if she couldn't complain,” Jessica whispered to them both, and they laughed, sobering their faces for Raquel's benefit as she returned with a platter of roast beef.

“It looks great, Raquel!” Val was quick to offer praise as she helped herself first.

“Hrmph.” She whisked out again, returning with baked potatoes and steamed broccoli, and the three of them settled down to a quiet evening at home. It was the only place in Mel's life where she could totally, completely free herself of the news.





CHAPTER 3

She spoke to him in a whisper. “Not so good.”

He nodded. “It's still pretty soon. Every day you'll feel stronger.” He seemed to will his strength into her through his words and his voice, but slowly she shook her head. “Have I ever lied to you?”

She shook her head again, spoke again, despite the uncomfortable naso-gastric tube scratching the back of her throat. “It won't work.”

“If you want it to, it will.” Everything inside him went tense. She couldn't afford to think like that. Not now.

“I'm going to reject.” She whispered again. But he doggedly shook his head, a muscle tensing in his jaw. Dammit, why was she giving up? … And how did she know? … It was what he had feared all day. But she couldn't give up the fight … couldn't … dammit, it was like Anne … why did they suddenly lose their grasp? It was the worst battle he fought. Worse than the drugs, the rejection, the infections. They could deal with them all, at least to a point, but only if the patient still had the will to live … the belief that she would live. Without that, all was lost.

“Sally, you're doing fine.” The words were determined and firm, and he sat by her bedside for over an hour, holding her hand. And then he went to make rounds, in each room, turning his full attention to the patient he saw, spending as much time as was needed to explain either surgical procedures that were going to be conducted soon, or what had already happened, what they felt, why they felt it, what the medications and steroids had done. And then at last, he went back to Sally's room, but she was asleep once again, and he stood for a long time watching her. He didn't like what he saw. She was right; he sensed it in his gut. Her body was rejecting the donor's heart, and there was no reason why it should. It had been a good match. But he instinctively sensed that it came too late for her, and as he left the room, he had a sense of impending loss which weighed on him like a lead balloon.

He went to the small cubicle he used for an office when he was there, and called his office to see if they needed him there.

“Everything's fine, Doctor,” the efficient voice said. “You just had a call from New York.”

“From whom?” He didn't sound overly interested in the call, it was probably another surgeon wanting to consult on a difficult case, but his mind was filled with Sally Block, and he hoped it could wait.

“From Melanie Adams, on Channel Four news.” Even Peter knew who she was, as isolated as he sometimes was from the world. He couldn't figure out why she had called him.

“Do you know why?”

“She wouldn't say, or at least not in detail. She only said that it was urgent, something about a little girl.” He raised an eyebrow at that, even television newswomen had kids, maybe this had to do with her own child. He jotted down the number she had left, glanced at his watch, and dialed.

They put him through at once, and Melanie ran halfway across the newsroom to pick up a phone.

“Dr. Hallam?” She sounded breathless, and at his end, his voice was deep and strong.

“Yes. I had a message that you called.”

“I did. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Our research department gave me your name.” She had heard it often too, but as he was on the West Coast it hadn't occurred to her to call, and the four names she'd gotten from Grant had done no good at all. Not one of them would do the surgery for the little black child. The publicity frightened them too much, and the surgery had to be done for free. Melanie had also called a surgeon of some note in Chicago, but he was in England and Scotland doing a lecture tour. She explained to Hallam quickly about the little girl, and he asked her a number of pertinent questions that she knew how to answer now. She had already learned a lot in one day, from talking to the other four.

“It sounds like an interesting case.” And then he spoke bluntly. “What's in it for you?”

She took a quick breath, it was hard to say. “On the surface, Doctor, a story for my network, about a compassionate doctor, a desperately sick little girl, and how transplants work.”

“That makes sense. I'm not sure I like the publicity angle though. And it's damn hard to find a donor for a child. Most likely we'd try something a little more unusual with her.”

“Like what?” Mel was intrigued.

“It depends on how severe she is. I'd like to see her first. We might first repair her own heart and put it back in.”

Mel knit her brows, that could create quite a stir. “Does that work?”

“Sometimes. Do her doctors think she'd survive the trip?”

“I don't know. I'd have to check. Would you actually do it?”

“Maybe. For her sake, not yours.” He sounded blunt again, but Mel couldn't fault it. He was offering to do the surgery for the child, not to make a spectacle of himself on the news. She respected him for that.

“Would you give us an interview?”

“Yes.” He spoke up without qualm. “I just want to make it clear why I'd do it at all. I'm a physician, and a surgeon, committed to what I do. I'm not looking to turn this into a circus, for any of us.”

“I wouldn't do that to you.” He had seen her stories on television before, and suspected that that was true. “But I would like to interview you. And if you do the transplant on Pattie Lou, it would provide an opening for a very interesting piece.”

“On what? On me?” He sounded shocked, as though he'd never thought of that before, and at her end Mel smiled. Was it possible that he didn't realize how well known he was? Maybe he was so involved in his work that he really didn't know. Or care. The possibility of that intrigued her.

“On heart surgery and transplants in general, if you prefer.”

“I would.” She heard a smile in his voice, and went on.

“That could be arranged. Now what about Pattie Lou?”

“Give me her physician's name. I'll call and see what I can find out from here. If she's operable, send her out, and we'll see.” And then he had another thought. “Will her parents agree to this?”

“I think so. But I'd have to speak to them too. I'm kind of the matchmaker in all this.”

“Apparently. Well, at least it's for a good cause. I hope we can help the child.”

“So do I.” There was an instant's silence between them, and Mel felt as though miraculously she had fallen into the right hands, and so had Pattie Lou. “Shall I call you back, or will you call me?”

“I've got a critical case here. I'll get back to you.” And suddenly he sounded desperately serious again, as though he were distracted. Mel thanked him again, and a moment later he was gone.

That afternoon she went to see the Joneses, and their desperately ill child, but Pattie Lou was a game little thing, and her parents were thrilled at even the faint shred of hope Mel offered them. There was enough in their meager fund to pay for plane fare to L.A., for one of the parents at least, and the child's father was quick to urge his wife to go. There were four other children at home, all older than the child with the ailing heart, and Mr. Jones felt sure that they could all manage on their own. Mrs. Jones cried, and her husband's eyes were damp when they said good-bye to Mel, and two hours after she returned to her office, Dr. Peter Hallam called again. He had spoken to Pattie Lou's physicians and in their estimation, it was worth taking the risk of the trip. It was the only hope she had. And Peter Hallam was willing to take the case.

Having seen Pattie Lou that afternoon, tears instantly filled Mel's eyes, and her voice was husky when she spoke again. “You're a hell of a nice man.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “How soon do you suppose you could arrange to have her on the plane?”

“I'm not sure. I'll have the network work out the details. When do you want her there?”

“From what her doctors said, I don't think tomorrow would be too soon.”

“I'll see what I can do.” She checked her watch, it was almost time to do the evening news. “We'll call you in a few hours … and Dr. Hallam … thank you …”

“Don't. It's part of what I do. And I hope we understand each other about all this. I will do it gratis for the child, but there will be no cameras in surgery with us. And what you get is an interview after it's all done. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” And then she couldn't resist stretching it a bit. She had an obligation to the network and her sponsors too. “Could we interview you about some other cases too?”

“In what regard?” He sounded fairly suspicious of her now.

“I'd like very much to do a story of heart transplants as long as I'll be out there with you, Doctor. Is that all right?” Maybe he had some preconceived prejudice about her. She hoped not, but one never knew. Maybe he hated the way she did the evening news. It was broadcast in California after all, so she couldn't be totally unknown to him, and of course she was not. But her fears were ill founded, as he nodded at his end.