“Leave that to me. Is that a deal?”

“Yes, sir, it is.” She trusted him with her work as much as she had with her face and her life.

“Darling, you won't regret it.” He gently took her face in his hands, kissed her, and started the car again. It had been a beautiful day.

They drove home slowly along the coast, and Peter regretfully stopped the car in front of her house at six o'clock. He hated to see the day end. But he wanted her to rest.

“Okay, young lady. Get a good night's sleep. I want to see you in the office bright and early tomorrow.” He was removing more of the bandages the nest day, and two more operations were scheduled for the next two months. But by December she would be through with surgery, and in January she would be 'unveiled.'

“Do you want to come up?” She wasn't really sure she wanted him to, and was slightly relieved when he said no.

“We'll have dinner sometime this week. I'll have some news by then about the show.”

“I won't be disappointed if you don't.”

He smiled as she and Fred got out of the car, and she waved as she walked into the building. But she was already thinking of something else. She had thought of it on the beach as they walked back to the car, and now she knew it was something she had to do. Something she wanted to do. She walked straight to the closet without taking off her coat, and reached behind her clothes until she found it. She pulled it out into the hallway and looked at it for a long time before opening it. It was dusty, and she was almost afraid to open it, but she had to. Slowly, she pulled at the zipper, and the large black artist's portfolio opened at her feet, revealing sketches, a few small paintings, and some unfinished work. But at the top of the pile was what she was looking for. She sank down onto the floor and looked at it thoughtfully. She had intended it to be Michael's wedding present, a year and a half ago. The landscape with the boy hidden in the tree. She sat there holding it, and slowly the tears slid down her face. It had taken eighteen months to face that again. But she had now, and she was going to finish it. For Peter.





Chapter 17




It was a brisk, chilly day as Marie pulled down the brim of her white fedora, raised the collar of her bright red wool coat, and walked the last few blocks to Faye Allison's office. Fred was at her side, as always, and his collar and leash were exactly the same red as her coat. Nancy smiled down at him as they turned the last corner. She was in high spirits, which even the fog couldn't dampen. She ran up the steps to Faye's office, and let herself in.

“Hello! I'm here!” Her voice sang out in the warm, cozy house, and a moment later there was a quick answer from upstairs. Marie slipped out of her coat. She was wearing a simple white wool dress with a gold pin Peter had given her a few months before. Almost absentmindedly, she glanced in the mirror and pulled her hat to a jauntier angle and then smiled at what she saw. The glasses were at last gone, and she could finally see eyes when she looked in the mirror. Only a few narrow bands of tape remained, high on her fore-head. And in a few weeks they would be gone, too. Finished. The job was done.

“Pleased with what you see, Nancy?” She suddenly noticed Faye standing behind her, an affectionate smile on her face, and she nodded.

“Yes, I guess I am. I'm even used to myself now. But you're not!" There was mischief in her eyes as she turned and grinned impishly at her friend.

“What do you mean?”

“You keep calling me ‘Nancy.’ It's Marie now, remember? It's official.”

“I'm sorry.” Faye shook her head and led the way into the cozy room where they always talked. “I keep slipping.”

“You certainly do.” But Marie didn't look upset as she slid into her favorite chair. “I guess old habits are hard to break.” Her face grew somber as she said the words, and Faye waited for the rest of her thoughts. “I've been thinking of that a lot lately. But I think I'm finally over him.” She said it quietly, looking into the fire.

“Michael?” Marie only nodded and then finally looked up with great seriousness in her face. “What makes you think you're over him?”

“I think I decided to be. I don't have much choice. The fact of it is, Faye, it's been almost two years since the accident. Nineteen months to be exact. He hasn't found me. He didn't tell his mother to go to hell, that he had to be with me no matter what. Instead he just let it go.” Her eyes looked for Faye's and then held fast. “He let me go. Now I have to let him go.”

“That's not easy. You've expected a lot of him for a long time.”

“Too long. And he let me down.”

“How does that make you feel about yourself?”

“Okay, I guess. I'm mad at him, not at me.”

“You're not angry at yourself anymore for your deal with his mother?” Faye was pressing a tender area and she knew it, but the ground had to be covered.

“I had no choice.” The voice was cool and hard.

“But you don't reproach yourself?”

“Why should I? Do you suppose Michael reproaches himself that he let me down? That he never bothered to come to me after the accident? Do you think it's given him sleepless nights?”

“Is it still giving you sleepless nights, Nancy? That's what interests me.”

“Marie, damn it. And no, it's not. I decided to put the dreams away. I've lived with this nonsense for too long.” She sounded convincing, but Faye was still not entirely sure how the girl felt.

“So now what?” What would take Michael's place? Or who? Peter?

“Now I work. First, I take a vacation in the South-west, over the Christmas holiday. There are some beautiful areas I want to photograph. I've already made my plans. Arizona, New Mexico. I might fly into Mexico for a couple of days.” She looked pleased as she said it, but there was still something hard in her face, masking something sad. She had had another loss. She had finally let herself lose Michael. It had taken a very long time. “I'll be gone for about three weeks. That ought to take care of the holidays pretty nicely.”

“And then what?”

“Work, work, and more work. That's all I care about right now. Peter got the show all set up for me. It's going to be in January. And you'd better be there!”

Faye smiled. “You don't think I'd miss it, do you?”

“I hope not. I've picked out some work for the show that I really love. You haven't seen most of it, nor has Peter. I hope he likes it too.”

“He will. He loves everything you do. Which brings up a question, Nan … sorry, Marie. What about Peter? How do you feel about all that?”

Marie sighed and then looked back into the fire. “Ifeel a lot of different things about Peter.”

“Do you love him?”

“In a way.”

“Could he ever replace Michael in your life?”

“Maybe. I keep trying to let him take Michael's place, but something stops me. I'm not ready. I don't know, Faye … I feel guilty not to be giving him more. He does so much for me. And … I know how much he cares.”

“He's a very patient man.”

“Maybe too patient. I'm afraid to hurt him.” She looked into Faye's eyes again, and her own were troubled. “I care about him a great deal.”

“Then you'll just have to see what happens. Maybe you'll feel freer now that you've decided to let Michael go out of your life.” Faye saw the muscles tighten around Marie's mouth as she heard the words. “Marie? You're not giving up on people are you? Giving up on love?”

“No. Why should I?” But the answer was too quick and too glib.

“You shouldn't. Michael failed you. He's one man, not all men. Don't forget that. There's someone out there for you. Maybe Peter, maybe someone else. But there's someone. You're a beautiful girl, and you're twenty-three years old. You have a whole life ahead of you.”

“That's what Peter says, too.” But she didn't look as though she believed it. And then she looked up at Faye with a nervous little smile that masked both fear and sorrow. “I made another decision, too.”

“And what's that?”

“About us. I think I've about done it, Faye. I've said all I want to for a while. I'm ready to go out there, work my ass off, and beat the world.”

“Why not just enjoy it?” There was something about the girl that still worried her. She had given up on something. There was something she no longer believed in. She had been betrayed, and in a sense she was quitting. She was ready to fight for her work, but not for herself. “You've been given a wonderful gift, Marie. The gift of beauty. Don't just hide that behind a camera.”

But Marie was looking at her with marble-hard eyes. “It wasn't a gift, Faye. I paid for it with everything I had.”

They exchanged Merry Christmases as she left, but there was a tinselly echo to the words, an emptiness that still bothered Faye as Marie Adamson pulled at her white fedora and walked off with a jaunty wave back at her friend of two years. It was almost as though she were saying good-bye to those two years and walking into a new life, leaving behind everything she had once loved.





Chapter 18




When Marie left Faye's office she caught a cab and headed straight to Union Square. She had already made the reservation; all she had to do now was stop off and pay for the ticket. It would be the first trip she had taken in years, the first since the weekend she and Michael had spent in Bermuda. It had been Easter and… She forced the thought from her mind as the cab headed down Post Street into the down-town traffic. Fred sat on her lap staring at the cars passing by and occasionally turning to look at his mistress. He sensed something different; there was an electricity about her that even the little dog could feel as she pulled a cigarette out of her handbag and lit it.

“Right here, miss?” The driver had stopped on the corner of Powell and Post, next to the Saint Francis Hotel, and Marie quickly nodded.

“This will be fine.” She paid the fare, opened the door of the cab, and let Fred hop out onto the pavement. She quickly followed, stubbed out the cigarette, and looked around. The ticket office was only a few steps away, and she was rapidly inside. For once, there wasn't even a line, but it was still early in the day. Her appointments with Faye were always at eight forty-five. Were… had been … She suddenly realized again that she was through now. Free. Finished. Done. She was no longer seeing a psychiatrist. The thought frightened her a little. She felt both liberated and lonely, like celebrating and crying all at once.

“May I help you?” The girl behind the counter looked at her with a smile, and Marie smiled back. “Are you picking up tickets?”

“Yes, I am. I made reservations last week. Adams … McAllister.” It was strange using the old name again; she hadn't in two months. But even the trip was symbolic. Legally, her name would be changed on January first. When she returned she would no longer be Nancy McAllister, she would be Marie Adamson, for good. But when she left she would still be Nancy. It was almost like a wedding trip, all by herself. It was the final step in the endless process that had taken almost two years. Marie Adamson was finally, officially going to be born. And Nancy Mc-Allister could be forgotten forever. Hell, Michael had forgotten her; now she could forget her too. There was no one left to remember. Peter had seen to that. No one who had ever known her before would recognize her now. The delicate, perfectly etched face was someone other women dreamed of being, but no one she had known for the past twenty-four years. She wasn't a stranger anymore, but neither was she Nancy McAllister. And the voice was different, too, smoother, deeper, more controlled. It was a subtle voice with sexual overtones, and she liked the way people listened to her now, as though she had more to say now that she had a different way of saying it. Her hands were graceful and delicate, her movements smoother and more mature after the ballet classes Peter had finally let her take once his work was far enough along. Yoga had added to the whole. And all of it completed the picture of Marie Adamson.

“That'll be a hundred and ninety-six dollars.” The girl glanced at the computer and then the customer standing before her. She couldn't take her eyes off her—the perfect features, dazzling smile, and a grace when she moved that held everyone's attention. Everything about her made you want to ask, “who is she?” Marie wrote out her check, received her ticket, and walked back out into the December sunlight of Union Square. She held Fred in her arms so he wouldn't get stepped on, and smiled to herself as she wandered across the square. It was a beautiful day and she had a beautiful life. She was going away over the holidays; she was through with all those endless operations; she was starting a new life, a new career; she had an apartment she loved, a man who loved her. She couldn't ask for much more. She strolled into I. Magnin with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step, and decided to buy herself something pretty. An early Christmas present for herself, or maybe for the trip. She wandered from floor to floor, trying on hats, bracelets, scarves, jackets, handbags, a pair of boots, and a funny pair of gold lamé shoes. She finally settled on a soft white cashmere sweater, which with her silken skin and rich, dark hair made her look almost like Snow White. The thought amused her. And Peter would like it. The sweater molded her figure in a pleasing sort of way. Even her shape had changed in the last year, with the ballet and yoga; her body seemed to have hardened and stretched until she looked long and lean and wonderfully lithe.