“I feel the same way and the funny thing is that we hardly know each other, and I feel as though I've known you for years.” She had never enjoyed talking to anyone as much, and that still frightened her a little when she allowed herself to think of it. It was a subject neither of them discussed but both of them thought of. She was the brave one tonight, as she looked at him over their second Irish coffee. The drinks seemed to pick them up, while putting a soft edge on things, it was the mixture of coffee and whiskey that did it, enhanced by the heady effect each of them had on the other. “I'm going to miss you like crazy when I go back.”

He watched her carefully over his drink. “So am I. I was thinking of it this morning after I dropped you off. What you said about the patient last night made a lot of sense. You kind of took my day out of the ditch and picked me up again. I was headed for a real tailspin. It's going to be strange when I'm not picking you up at your hotel at six o'clock every morning.”

“You might even get some time to yourself again, and to spend with your kids. Are they complaining yet?”

“They seem to be wrapped up in their own lives.”

“So are the twins.” Although they were due back from Cape Cod that night. “I'll have to call them if I can get the hour difference worked out right. When I wake up, they've left for school, and when I come home they're asleep.”

“You'll be home soon.” But he said the words with sorrow and she didn't answer for a time.

“It's a crazy life I lead, Peter.” She looked him straight in the eye as though asking him how he felt about it.

“But fulfilling, I suspect. We both seem to go nonstop, but it's not so bad if you like what you do.”

“That's how I've always felt.” She smiled, and he reached across the table for her hand. It was the only contact they ever had, but it was a comfortable gesture now. “Thank you for everything you've done for me, Peter.”

“What? Drive you back and forth to the hospital a few times? That's hardly a monumental favor.”

“It's been nice though.” She smiled and he smiled in return.

“It has been for me too. It'll be strange when you're not here anymore.”

She laughed. “I'll probably be standing outside my house in New York at quarter to six every morning, waiting for you to come around the corner in your Mercedes.”

“I wish …” They fell silent then, and the check arrived. He paid it, and they walked slowly into the lobby. It was late and they both had to get up early the next morning, and as they said good night to each other, Melanie found herself wishing they didn't have to.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Peter.” He nodded, and waved as the elevator doors closed, and then he went home, thinking about Mel, and wondering what life would be like again without her. He didn't even want to think of it as he undressed. And in her hotel room, Mel stood for a long time staring out the window, thinking of Peter, and the things they had said to each other in the past few days, and suddenly she felt an ache of loneliness well up in her, unlike any she had felt before. Suddenly she didn't want to go back to New York at all. But that was crazy. It was just what she had felt when she was in L.A. before, only more so. But she went to bed with the uneasy feeling that night that Peter Hallam was deeper under her skin than she wanted him to be. And yet when she was with him, she didn't think of that. She just talked to him with the ease usually born of years of knowing someone. He made her feel that way each time she saw him, and she wondered for a moment, if that was only his bedside manner. She fell into an uneasy sleep that night, and she was relieved to see him the next morning. She slipped quickly into the car, and they made the familiar drive to the hospital, chatting easily, and then suddenly Peter laughed and turned toward her.

“It's kind of like being married, isn't it?”

She felt herself go pale. “What is?”

“Going to work together every day.” He looked sheepish. “I have a confession to make. I like routine. I'm a creature of habit.”

“So am I.” She smiled back, feeling better again. For a moment she had been frightened. She settled back against the seat and watched the hospital loom toward them. “I wonder what news awaits me today.” The President had been making steady progress, and they were just waiting for news of his being moved.

Nonetheless, when the announcement came that morning that the President was leaving for Washington the next day with a team of doctors, on Air Force One, she was stunned, and felt as though someone had delivered a blow to her solar plexus. The air whooshed out of her in one gasp—a barely audible “No.” But it was true. He was leaving. And once again, all was chaos in the lobby. Bulletins went on the air, interviews with doctors, Mel had to make a dozen calls to New York. They were asking for clearance for her for Air Force One, but thus far the only news was that six members of the press would be allowed on the plane. Silently, Mel found herself praying all day not to be among the lucky six, but at five o'clock she got a call from New York. She was among them. And they were leaving at approximately noon the next day. She was expected to be at the hospital at nine o'clock, to cover all the preparations. And when she met Peter in the parking lot that night, her whole body sagged as she got into the car.

“What's the matter, Mel?” He could see instantly that something was wrong. He had had a long day himself, in surgery for four hours, putting in a plastic heart, which he hadn't wanted to do in the first place. But in this particular case, there had been no other solution. They had already tried everything else, and there was no donor in sight for a transplant. But he knew how great a risk they ran now in regard to infection. And Marie had had a number of problems today too. But he didn't say anything to Mel as she turned to him with an unhappy look on her face.

“I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“Shit.” He stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “Well, we knew you wouldn't be here forever.” It took him a few minutes to regain his composure and then he started the car. “Do you have to come back tonight?”

She shook her head. “I'm finished until nine o'clock tomorrow morning.”

At that he smiled more gamely and looked over at her with gentle eyes. “Then I'll tell you what, why don't I drop you off at your hotel, let you relax for a while, and change if you want, and we'll go somewhere nice for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Lovely. You're sure you're not too tired?” She noticed now that he looked exhausted.

“Positive. I'd love it. Do you want to go back to the Bistro?”

“Yes”—she smiled finally—“the only place I don't want to go back to is New York. Isn't that awful?” She would have been gone for a week, but it felt as though she had been gone for a year, and suddenly her life in New York loomed into perspective. The six and eleven o'clock news, the twins, her daily routine. At that precise moment, none of it was appealing, and she was still depressed when she went upstairs to change. The only thing that cheered her was when she saw Peter again, when he picked her up at seven thirty. He was wearing a dark gray flannel double-breasted suit, and she had never seen him look as handsome. All that she had had to wear was a beige silk dress with a heavy cream silk jacket that she had brought to wear on the air, but hadn't taken out yet.

And they looked like a very distinguished pair as they walked into the Bistro. And the headwaiter gave them a lovely table. Peter ordered their drinks, and the waiter brought the chalkboard to the table, showing them the menu. But Mel wasn't even hungry. All she wanted to do was talk and be near Peter, and she found herself wanting to cling to him numerous times during the evening. And finally after the chocolate soufflé and the coffee, he ordered brandy for them both and looked at her sadly.

“I wish you weren't leaving, Mel.”

“So do I. It sounds crazy, but it's been a wonderful week, in spite of all the hard work.”

“You'll be back.” But God only knew when. She hadn't been to L.A. for over a year before she'd come out to interview him. It was just a fluke that she had come back again so soon.

“I wish we didn't live so far away from each other.” She said it mournfully, like a little girl with a new best friend, and he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.

“So do I.” And then, “I'll call you.” But then what?

It was impossible to find the answers, they had lives at opposite ends of the country, with children, homes, careers, friends. None of it could be stashed into a suitcase and moved. The phone calls and occasional visits would have to be enough for Mel and Peter. It was almost more than she could bear to recognize that fact, as they walked along Rodeo Drive after dinner.

“I wish our lives were different, Peter.”

“Do you?” He seemed surprised. “How?”

“At least we could live in the same city.”

“I agree with you there. But otherwise, I'd say we're pretty lucky, now that we know each other. It's added a lot to my life.”

“Mine too.” She smiled and their hands knit tighter, as they walked, each lost in thought for a little while.

He looked down at her, his hand still in hers. “It's going to be damn lonely around here without you.” He heard the echo of his own words and couldn't believe he had said them, but he had, and he was less frightened of what he felt now. The brandy helped, and a week in her company had been like a gift he had never expected. He had grown fonder of her each day, and the prospect of seeing her go really depressed him, much more than he had expected.

Eventually they made their way slowly back to the car, and he took her back to her hotel, until at last they sat outside, and looked at each other in the lamplight. “Will I see you tomorrow, Mel?”