The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,56

it. He had arranged the exhibition of her work, which opened the day after the final “unveiling” of her face. He cared about her as a person, not just as a reconstruction job. She knew that. But she felt oddly insecure as she lay there in the dark, wanting someone to tell her that everything was all right, that she wasn't alone, that she'd make it as Marie Adamson.

“Oh damn. What does it matter if I'm alone?” She stood up briskly and stared at herself in the mirror as she said the words, and then in irritation she picked up her camera and almost caressed it. That was all she needed. She was just tired from the trip. It was stupid to worry about being lonely, about her future, about Peter.… With a sharp sigh, she climbed into bed. She had better things to think about, like her work.

She woke up shortly after six the next morning and was dressed and out of the house by seven thirty. When she arrived at Peter's office at nine, she had already been to the produce market and then the flower market to take pictures. She had added another shot to her series on Chinatown. And she had picked up Fred at the vet.

“My, don't you look chipper this morning—and beautiful. That's a marvelous coat.” Peter looked admiringly at the full-length coyote she had bought at a bargain price on a reservation in New Mexico. She wore it over jeans with a black turtleneck sweater and boots. And she had worn the black stetson until she got to his office. Now she held it in her hand for a moment, smiled at him in a way he had never seen before, and then poised over the wastebasket for only a fraction of a second, before crushing the hat into the bottom.

“And that, Dr. Gregson, is the last time I will ever wear a hat.”

He nodded. He understood just how important the gesture was. “You won't ever have to again.”

“Thanks to you.” She wanted to kiss him, but her eyes told him what he needed to know, and as she looked at him she realized that she had missed him on her trip. He was someone different to her now. He would no longer be her doctor after that morning. He would be her friend, and whatever else she let him become. They had not yet resolved that, no matter how often he told her he loved her. She had not yet taken the last step, and he had never pushed her. “I missed you, Peter.” She touched his arm softly as she sat down in the all too familiar chair, closed her eyes, and waited.

He watched her for a moment as he stood there, and then he took his usual seat on the little swivel stool in front of her. “You're in a hurry this morning.”

“After twenty months, wouldn't you be too?”

“I know, darling, I know.” She heard the clink of the delicate instruments in the little metal pan, and she felt the tape being pulled slowly from her forehead and her hairline. With every millimeter of skin it freed, she felt that much freer, until at last she felt nothing more, and she heard the little stool whoosh softly away from her. “You can open your eyes now, Marie. And go look in the mirror.” She had made that trip a thousand times. At first only to see a tiny glimpse, a hint, a promise, and then bigger pieces of the puzzle. But she had never seen Marie Adamson's face free of tape, or stitches, or some reminder of what was being done. She had not seen her face completely bare since it had been the face of Nancy McAllister nearly two years before. “Go on. Take a look.”

It was crazy. She almost afraid to. But silently, she stood up and walked slowly to the mirror, and then she stood there with a broad smile, and a narrow river of tears gleaming on her face. He stood behind her, at a good distance. He wanted to leave her alone. This was her moment.

“Oh God, Peter, it's beautiful.”

He laughed softly. “Not ‘it's’ beautiful, silly girl. You're beautiful. It is you, you know.”

She could only nod and then turn to look at him. It wasn't so much that her face had changed without the few strips of tape on her forehead, but that it was over. She was entirely Marie now. “Oh Peter …”