whackos who are making a name for themselves off the deaths of young people. People like that Reverend Sanders "
"You think he's out to sabotage the clinic?"
"It wouldn't surprise me."
Cassandra rolled over, exposing the long smooth curve of her hip.
"He was in my father's study the other day."
Harvey spun back toward Cassandra.
"Reverend Sanders?"
"Yup." "But your father told me he didn't know Sanders personally."
"I heard him in my father's study the morning after the party.
They were arguing."
"Arguing about what?"
"I'm not sure."
"Cassandra, it's important."
She tried to collect her thoughts.
"I remember my father telling Sanders that he should never come to the house."
"What did Sanders say?" "He just told my dad to relax. I remember that Sanders sounded so cool. His tone was such a contrast to my father's angry one. Then Sanders said something like 'there's still work to be done." Harvey's body went rigid.
"Jesus."
"That's all I heard. I left after that."
"Are you sure " The phone rang. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked onto one another's. Then Harvey lowered his gaze and moved toward the phone.
"Hello."
Eric's voice came in a rush.
"Get down to the lab, Harv. Hurry."
"What's the matter?"
"It's Michael, Harvey. Oh God, it's Michael." Michael the button and held it down. Slowly and with a whir, the bed began to move, curling his frame into a sitting position. He coughed twice into his fist and then smiled at Sara.
"Go ahead," she said.
"Take a sip."
Michael brought the plastic cup to his lips and drank.
"How's the orange juice?" Sara asked.
"Tastes like paint thinner," he replied.
"What time is it?"
"Seven a.m. Did you sleep well?" "Not really," he said.
"I don't like sleeping in separate beds." "Neither do I," Sara said, "but my bed is only a yard away."
"Makes it worse. Sort of like being able to see the Holy Grail and not grasp it."
"How poetic."
"To put it somewhat less poetically, I want your bod."
"And I yours," Sara said.
"Every time you stand up I see your cute little ass hanging out the back of your hospital gown. It drives me crazy."
"I know. I'm such a tease." He pushed the orange juice away and glanced up.
"So tell me, how's the story on Harv's clinic going?"
"We start shooting the interviews later today. It'll be hectic as all hell so I may not be able to stop in as much."
"Good. I'll be able to get a little peace and quiet."
"Not so fast, handsome. I'll still be able to come by around lunch and dinner. And I'll still be sleeping in that bed come this evening."
He grabbed her and they kissed.
"Can't get rid of you, huh?"
"Never."
They kissed again.
Behind them, the door opened. Sara turned and watched Harvey and Eric enter. Their grim expressions seemed to magnify into looks of tremendous pain when they saw Michael and Sara embracing. Sara took a second look at their faces, at the way they held their heads, at the way their hands stayed still in their pockets. And she knew. She knew without question or hesitation.
It was over. Everything was over. She held Michael closely, feeling his muscles stiffen. She wanted very much to scream.
Harvey stepped forward and closed the door.
"We need to talk."
Chapter 10
Jennifer Riker lifted her face toward the sun, enjoying the feel of the warm rays against her skin.
She passed a store window, stopped, took two steps backwards, and examined her reflection. The late forties, she thought, had not been particularly easy on her looks. Her petite figure was beginning to spread a little. The small lines around her eyes were deepening into full-fledged (no sense denying it) wrinkles. Her neck was starting to crease. She looked again and wondered for the millionth time if she had done the right thing:
if she had not, as so many had warned her, jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.
She thought about it a moment before acknowledging that, in truth, there had been no choice. To stay with Harvey would have meant to wither away in a world of watching too many soap operas and feeling utterly worthless. To remain married would have meant playing the dutiful wife to a man who had dedicated his life to a cause and assumed those around him had chosen to do the same. Just looking at Harvey on those rare nights when he'd come home from the clinic, exhaustion blanketing his face and posture, made Jennifer feel inadequate and selfish. She had to get out.
And so she left. She made her escape before the weight of her depression had