“Hello there.” He looked handsome and fresh, as though he hadn't worked all day. “What are you up to today?”

“Winding up.” She smiled. “I just saw Pattie Lou. She looks great.”

“Yes, she does.” He beamed, a proud rooster. “I saw her this morning too.” In fact he had seen her twice, but he didn't mention that to Mel. Not wanting to make her worry that anything was wrong.

“I was going to call you this afternoon, to thank you for dinner last night. I had a wonderful time.” She carefully sought his eyes, wondering what she would see there.

“The children loved meeting you, Mel.”

“It was nice meeting them.” But she couldn't help wondering if Pam had reacted badly when he returned home again.

She noticed then that he was looking wistfully at her, and she wondered if something was wrong. He seemed to hesitate, and then he spoke up. “Are you in a rush?”

“Not really. My flight isn't until ten o'clock tonight.” She didn't mention her shopping on Rodeo Drive for the girls, it seemed far too frivolous here, amidst the battle for human life. “Why?”

“I wondered if you wanted to stop in and see Marie Dupret again.” She could see that the girl already meant something to him. She was his latest little wounded bird.

“How is she today?” Mel watched his eyes, wondering how any one man could care so much. But he did. It was obvious in everything he did and said.

“About the same. We're getting down to the wire on that donor heart for her.”

“I hope you get one soon.” But again, that seemed a ghoulish thought, as she followed Peter to Marie's room.

The girl seemed paler and weaker than she had the day before, and Peter sat quietly with her and talked, in an almost intimate way, that excluded everyone else in the room save themselves. It was as though there were a special communion between them, and for only a fraction of an instant Mel found herself wondering if he was attracted to her. But his style with her had no sexual overtones, it was just that he seemed to care so much, and one had the feeling that they had known each other for years, which Mel knew wasn't the case. It was a striking case of there being an extraordinary kind of rapport between them. After a little while Marie seemed more peaceful than she had been before, and her eyes reached out to Mel.

“Thank you for coming by to see me again, Miss Adams.” She seemed so weak and pale, one easily sensed that she wouldn't live much longer without the transplant she so desperately needed. She seemed to have worsened since the day before, and Mel felt a tug at her own heart as she walked toward the young woman.

“I'm going back to New York tonight, Marie. But I'll be looking forward to hearing good news about you.”

For a long moment the young woman with the translucent pallor said nothing, and then she smiled almost sadly. “Thank you.” And then, as Peter watched, she let her fears overwhelm her and two tears slid down her cheeks. “I don't know if we'll find a donor in time.”

Peter stepped forward again. “Then you'll just have to hang in there, won't you?” His eyes were so intense in their grasp of the girl that it was almost as though he were willing her to live, and Mel felt as though she could almost touch the magnetic force between them in the room.

“It'll be all right.” Melanie reached out and touched her hand, and was surprised at how cold it was. The girl had practically no circulation, which accounted for the bluish pallor. “I know it will.”

She turned her eyes to Mel then, and seemed almost too weak to move. “Do you?” Melanie nodded, fighting back tears. She had the terrifying feeling that the girl was not going to make it, and she found herself silently praying for her as they left the room, and in the safety of the hall, she turned to Peter with worried eyes.

“Can she hold out until you find a donor?” Mel doubted it now, and even Peter looked unsure. He suddenly seemed exhausted by it all, which was rare for him.

“I hope so. It all depends on how soon we find a donor.” Melanie didn't ask the obvious question, “And if you don't?” because the answer to that was too easily guessed from the condition of the patient. She was the frailest, most delicate girl Melanie had ever seen, and it seemed miraculous that she was still alive at all.

“I hope she makes it.”

Peter looked at her intently, and then nodded. “So do I. Sometimes the emotional factors help. I'll come back and see her again later, and the nurses are keeping a very close watch on her, not just through the monitors. The problem is that she has no family or relatives at all. Sometimes people so alone have less reason to hang on. We have to give them that reason as best we can. But in the end, what happens is not our decision.” Was it hers then? Was it up to this frail girl to will herself to live? It seemed a lot to expect of her, and Melanie was silent as she followed Peter to the nurses' station again, almost dragging her feet. There was no further reason to linger here. Peter had his work to do and she had to move on, no matter how little the project appealed to her. Somehow she wanted to stick around now, to watch Pattie Lou, talk to Pearl, pray for Marie, drop in on the others she'd seen. But the issue was none of them, as she suspected now. It was Peter himself. She really didn't want to leave him. And he seemed to sense that too. He left the nurses and the charts and walked to where she stood.

“I'll take you downstairs, Mel.”

“Thank you.” She didn't decline. She wanted to be alone with him, but she wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was just his style that had gotten to her, the bedside manner, the warmth, yet she knew that it was something more. She was remarkably drawn to the man, but to what end? She lived in New York and he lived in L.A. And if they had lived in the same town? She wasn't even sure of that as he walked her to her car in the parking lot, and she turned to face him again. “Thank you for everything.”

“For what?” He smiled gently down at her.

“For saving Pattie Lou's life.”

“I did that for Pattie Lou, not you.”

“Then for everything else. Your interest, your time, you cooperation, dinner, lunch …” She was suddenly at a loss for words and he looked amused.

“Anything else you want to add? Coffee in the hall?”

“All right, all right …” She smiled at him and he took her hand.

“I should be thanking you, Mel. You did a lot for me. You're the first person I've opened up to in two years. Thank you for that.” And then, before she could respond, “Could I call you in New York sometime, or would that be out of line?”

“Not at all. I'd like that very much.” Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt like a very young girl.

“I'll call you then. Have a good trip back.” He squeezed her hand once more, and then turned, waved, and was gone. As simple as that. And as she drove toward Rodeo Drive, she couldn't help wondering if she would ever see him again.





CHAPTER 8

“Shit.” She muttered out loud, and the driver glanced at her.