she had been then, unique and familiar as the dawn.

Leslie hesitated on the top step, struck by the pensive note in Dev’s voice. The

expression on her face was hard to decipher. She looked a little sad, but her

eyes were warm as they caressed—that was how it felt, caressed—her. Leslie

shivered, unable to look away and not wanting Dev to, either. She hadn’t

expected to see Dev so early and wondered if Dev had gone back to her cabin

at all the night before.

Then she noticed that Dev had changed from her jeans and T-shirt into khaki

pants, a dark shirt, and work boots. She looked solid and steady and Leslie felt

oddly comforted.

• 103 •

RADCLY fFE

“You always did make me feel safe.”

When Dev jerked, Leslie realized she’d spoken aloud.

“Did I?” Dev asked quietly. “I always had the impression that everyone thought

I was kind of scary. Or maybe just a little crazy.”

“I never did. You know that.” Leslie wanted to tell her how she always felt

braver when she was with Dev. As if Dev’s differentness allowed Leslie to be

just a little bit different too. To be someone other than the girl all her friends and

even her parents expected her to be.

But she didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t go back there now. It made

her sad. It made her wish for things she couldn’t have and didn’t have time for.

And there were things she had to do. “I forgot some of the things I need to bring

to my mother. I wasn’t at my sharpest last night.”

“There’s coffee,” Dev said, walking inside with Leslie. “That might help.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Some. Enough. You?” The lights had been out in Leslie’s cabin when Dev had

passed it on the way to her own the night before. For one crazy instant she’d

considered walking up the path and tapping on Leslie’s door. What she would

have said if Leslie had answered, she wasn’t sure. Now, in the light of day, she

was glad she hadn’t. The pull of the past was powerful, but it was obvious that

Leslie had no desire to revisit it. And neither should she.

“I slept on and off,” Leslie said. She looked around the dining room and saw

that Dev had already set out plates and utensils and that the big coffee urn was

full. She grasped Dev’s arm. “This is terriÞ c. I can’t thank you enough. I

should’ve thought to come up and do this myself…”

She wasn’t thinking clearly at all and wondered why not. It was true that her

unexpected illness and this impromptu visit had totally disrupted her normal

routine—she hadn’t been to the gym, hadn’t had a decent meal, hadn’t had a full

night’s sleep in days, no, a week now.

Still, when she’d been involved in a particularly difÞ cult trial there had been

long stretches when she hadn’t slept or eaten or exercised, and she’d never lost

her focus. Never forgot things. Never found her mind wandering into the past or

musing about things she couldn’t change or control.

• 104 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

“I just got here, Les. Besides, you need to get to the hospital.

We’ve already discussed this, remember?”

“Why are you doing this, Dev?”

The question surprised Dev. Leslie so rarely revealed the slightest bit of

vulnerability. Her armor was very effectively established by her elegantly

understated blouse and slacks, her designer shoes, her expensive haircut and her

subtle but perfect makeup. But Dev wasn’t looking at any of those things. She

was looking at the shadows beneath Leslie’s blue eyes and remembering the

way her hands had trembled the night before.

“The easy answer would be because I used to be in love with you.”

Leslie’s laughter was part shock and part embarrassed pleasure.

“I’m afraid to hear the hard answer, then.”

Dev shrugged and slid her hands into her back pockets, unconsciously canting

her hips forward the way she used to when she was feeling insecure and wanted

to act tough. “I know all that’s in the past, but I can’t help feeling that we’re still

friends. And that’s what friends do, isn’t it.”

Leslie rested her palm against Dev’s chest and leaned close to kiss her on the

cheek. “I guess it is. Thank you.”

Dev stood completely still as Leslie turned and disappeared up the wide curving

staircase to the second ß oor, where her parents had their bedroom. If

everything between them was in the past, why did being near Leslie still make

her feel better and worse than anything she’d ever experienced, all at the same

time?

Since she didn’t know the answer, and doubted she ever would, she settled for

doing something that did make sense. She went to the kitchen to make breakfast

for ten.

v

“You don’t have to stay here all morning,” Eileen said to Leslie when Leslie

returned to the surgical waiting area for the fourth time after stepping outside to

make a phone call.

“Sorry,” Leslie muttered as she sat down beside her mother in the surprisingly

comfortable chair. The waiting room was carpeted, with

• 105 •

RADCLY fFE

small seating areas arranged so that families could have some privacy.

She and her mother sat alone in the far corner next to several windows that

looked out over a small landscaped seating area with trees and stone benches.

The smokers congregated there. “Just a couple of things I need to take care of

at the ofÞ ce.”

“I guess you can never really go on vacation.”

“If I didn’t take care of things,” Leslie said, crossing her legs and resting her

head against the back of the chair, “they’d just be there waiting for me. The

problems don’t go away just because I’m not there.”

“No.” Eileen sighed. “The ostrich approach is tempting, but I’ve never known it

to work.”

Leslie laughed. “True on both counts.”

“I mean it, though. I can call you when the doctors come out. It’s likely to be at

least another hour.”

“I’d rather stay.” Leslie looked at her watch. Her tests were scheduled for three

that afternoon, across the street at the outpatient medical building. Unfortunately,

she would probably be able to get there in plenty of time. She felt ridiculous

wasting several hours when she felt perfectly healthy. Other than the

embarrassing episode she’d had in front of Dev the day she’d arrived, she’d

only had one other very brief period of the irregular ß uttering sensation in her

chest—just after she got out of bed that morning. It couldn’t have lasted more

than twenty seconds. In fact, it was over so quickly she wasn’t certain it’d been

anything at all. “Are you planning to stay here tonight too?”

“It depends on how your father’s doing. I thought I might, especially with the

truck acting up.”

“That problem is going to be solved very quickly. If I have time this afternoon

I’m going to put it out of its misery. Do you think Daddy wants another Jeep?”

“I think we should probably wait to ask him. I’m not certain we’ve budgeted for

a new truck this year.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Leslie said.

“Leslie,” Eileen said, “it’s a generous offer. I appreciate it. I really do, and so

will your father. But it’s not your responsibility.”

Responsibility. Was that what it was called when you did something for

someone you loved? What was it called when you didn’t? Leslie knew the

answer. It was called cowardice.

• 106 •

WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

The sun coming through her bedroom window was so bright, it hurt Leslie’s

eyes. It hurt her head. It made her queasy. She rolled onto her side and closed

her eyes tightly, wishing the morning away. Maybe she could go back to sleep

and the next time she woke up, it would be Sunday and she would be ready to

leave for college. She could leave and pretend that last night had never

happened. She wanted to cry, but her eyes were swollen and her throat raw

from too many tears already.

Tears and, she remembered now, being so sick somewhere around two in the

morning that she’d wanted to die.

Sometime after Dev had left the party, she’d had too much to drink. Way too

much. The beer and wine—she remembered sharing a bottle or maybe two with

Shelley—had made her sick, but it hadn’t made her forget the sound of Mike’s

foot thudding into Dev’s body, or Dev’s soft moans, or her own screams.

Shelley kept asking her what was wrong, and Leslie hadn’t been able to answer.

What could she say? Mike hurt Dev and it’s all my fault? Dev kissed me

and I let her. I didn’t mean to let her. I didn’t mean to kiss her back. It was

a mistake. Wasn’t it?

Leslie tried to go back to sleep but she could hear the guests getting up and the

sounds of activity outside her open window. The boathouse was probably a

mess, and she really ought to clean up down there before her parents saw it.

Groaning, she dragged herself from bed and wobbled on shaky legs into her

bathroom. She was afraid she might vomit again, but she was sure there was

nothing left to throw up.