“I came to see you. But not from New York, I'm afraid. I've been in the lobby for days, because of the President.” Marie nodded with a serious look in her eyes.

“What a terrible thing. Is he any better?”

“A little today. But he's not out of the woods yet,” and then suddenly she realized that it was a tactless thing to say, because Marie wasn't out of the woods yet either. She smiled gently at the young woman who was only a few years her junior, and whose life was held in such a delicate balance. “He's not as lucky as you are, Marie.”

“That's because he's not a patient of Peter Hallam's.” There was a warm glow in her eyes as she said his name, and Mel watched her as understanding dawned. Peter Hallam had become a god of sorts to this girl. And Mel suspected that she had a crush on him. It was not an unnatural occurrence, given her dependence on the man, and the fact that he had saved her life by performing the transplant. But it was only when Peter himself came into the room a little while later, and blushed as he saw Mel, that she saw something more. The remarkable communication between doctor and patient. He sat down beside Marie's bed, and talked to her in his quiet, soothing voice, and it was as though everyone in the room disappeared except them.

Mel suddenly felt like an intruder and left a little while later, returning to the mass of press still milling around the lobby. And she didn't see Peter again until he drove her back to the hotel that night. As she had the night before, she had a two-hour break, and then she had to return to the hospital at eight o'clock to do a live report for the eleven o'clock news in New York. And it was on the way to dinner that she mentioned Marie to him.

“She absolutely worships you, Peter.”

“Don't be silly. She's no different than any other patient.” But he knew what Melanie meant, there was a special bond between him and each of his patients and maybe particularly with Marie, who had no one to stand beside her. “She's a nice girl, Mel. And she needs someone to talk to while she goes through all this. You lie there all day and you think, sometimes too much. She needs someone to vent all that with.”

“And you are so eternally patient.” She smiled, wondering how he did it. He gave and he gave and he gave, almost beyond measure, of his skill, of his heart, of his time, of his patience. It was incredible to her how he did it.

And halfway through dinner his pager went off, and he had to return to the hospital for an emergency.

“Marie?” Mel asked worriedly as they hurried to the car.

He shook his head. “No, a man who came in last week. He needs a heart badly and we don't have a donor yet.” It seemed to be a never-ending problem for him, the absence of a heart when it was desperately needed.

“Will he make it?”

“I don't know. I hope so.” He wove his way expertly through the traffic and they were back at the hospital in less than ten minutes, and it was the last she saw of him that night. She got a message in the lobby before she went on the air that Dr. Hallam would be in surgery for several hours, and she wondered if that meant they had found a donor, or if Peter was trying to do whatever repair work he could in the meantime. She went back to her hotel alone in a cab, and she was surprised to find how much she missed him. She took a hot bath, and sat staring at the tile wall, sorry that she had questioned him about Marie. There had just been something in the woman's face when she said his name, and his tone with her had been so intimate. It almost made Mel jealous. She was in bed by nine thirty and slept soundly until her five o'clock call the next morning, and at five forty-five he was downstairs as always. But he looked tired this morning.

“Hi.” She slid into the car quickly and for an instant there had been almost a reflex reaction. She had been about to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but at the last minute she didn't. She searched his eyes, and suddenly realized that something was wrong. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

But she didn't believe him. “How was last night?”

“We lost him.” He started the car and Mel watched his profile. There was something hard and lonely in his eyes. “We did our best, but he was just too far gone.” And Mel suddenly understood something.

“You don't have to convince me.” Her voice was soft. “I know how hard you tried.”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need to convince myself.”

She reached out and touched his arm then. “Peter …”

“I'm sorry, Mel.” He glanced over at her with a tired smile, and she wished there were something she could do for him, but she wasn't sure what.

“Don't do that to yourself.”

“Yeah.” And then five minutes later, “He had a young wife and three small kids.”

“Stop blaming yourself.”

“Who should I blame?” He turned to her with a flash of sudden anger.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you're not God. That you aren't to blame? That you don't give the gift of life?” They were harsh words, but she could see that he was listening. “It's not in your hands, no matter how skilled you are.”

“He would have been a perfect candidate for a heart transplant, if we'd had a donor.”

“But you didn't. And it's over. Close the door.” They stopped in the hospital parking lot then, and he looked at her.

“You're right and I know it. And after all these years, I shouldn't punish myself, but I always do.” He sighed softly. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” There was something so comforting about her presence and he needed to be comforted.

She looked at her watch and frowned. “Sure. I'll just check in. There's probably nothing new.” But when she walked in, there was news. A bulletin was due to be delivered on the air in three minutes. The President had just come off the critical list. When the news was announced, a cheer went up in the lobby. For most of the members of the press, it would mean that they would go home soon, and could stop camping in the lobby of Center City.

Mel went on the air to deliver the news to the East as Peter watched. While the whole country would rejoice, she and Peter felt strangely depressed. Their eyes met when she went off the air.

“Will you have to go home now?” It was a worried whisper.

“Not yet. And I just got a memo. They want an interview with his wife today, if I can get it.” And at that moment, Peter was paged, and he had to leave her.

Mel sent a note upstairs to the President's wife, who had been sleeping in a room adjoining the President's for the last two days. A response came back a little while later. The First Lady would grant Mel an exclusive interview at noon, in a private room on the third floor, which ruled out any hope of having lunch with Peter, but the interview went well and Mel was pleased, and that afternoon another encouraging bulletin was delivered. The President was out of the woods. By that evening when Peter drove her out for a bite to eat, the atmosphere of tension had greatly abated.

“How was your day?” She collapsed against the seat and looked over at him with a smile. “Mine was a killer, but things are looking up.”

“I didn't stop all day. And Marie said to say hello.”

“Say hi for me.” But her mind was on other things. She was beginning to wonder how soon she would have to leave. There was a rumor that in a few days the President would be moved to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C., but the First Lady had been unable or unwilling to confirm it.

“What are you thinking about, Mel?” She noticed that he looked less depressed than he had that morning.

She smiled. “Ten thousand things at once. We're hearing that they're going to send the President home soon. Do you think they can really move him?”

“Right now they'd be taking a chance, but if he continues to improve they could. And they can take all the equipment they'd need on Air Force One." He didn't seem cheered by the thought, and neither was Mel, but over dinner they forgot about it, and Peter began to tell her funny stories about Matt when he was two or three years old, and ridiculous episodes that had happened in the hospital when he was in training. From sheer exhaustion, they found themselves laughing like two kids, and when he drove her back to the hospital shortly before eight, she was in no mood to do the news with a serious face, and surprisingly they were both still in high spirits when they left Center City again half an hour later. There was something about being together that always buoyed them both and made life worth living.

“Do you want to come home with me for a drink?” He really didn't want to leave her yet, and suddenly he realized that she might be gone in a few days. He wanted to savor every moment of her presence.

“I don't think I should. I still think your kids would be upset.”

“What about me? Don't I have a right to see a friend?”

“Sure, but taking someone home can be a heavy trip. How do you think Pam would react to seeing me again?”

“Maybe that's an adjustment she'll just have to make.”

“Is it worth it for a few days?” Mel didn't think so. “Why don't you come to my hotel for a drink instead? It's ugly as sin but the bar looks halfway decent.” Neither of them was interested in drinking. They just seemed to want to sit and talk for hours until they were ready to fall over from exhaustion.

“You know, I could sit here and talk to you all night.” He was still amazed at the range of conflicting emotions he felt for her, excitement, attraction, respect, trust, fear, distance, and closeness all at once. But whatever it was, he couldn't seem to get enough of it. The presence of Mel Adams in his life was apparently addictive. He was hooked, and he didn't know what to do about it.