She nodded and met my eyes, hers full of regret.

"Why can't you tell me?"

"She's dead now. It's no one's business. They wouldn't understand anyway."

"Not even Patrice? She's the only one I'll talk to. If you're worried about Nicole, she doesn't have to hear any of this."

"How can you not tell her? She was her lover."

"But she's not my client. Patrice is, and she's in a tremendous amount of pain. She's the only one left in the Fairchild family, and she has no idea why. Why did her sister do it? Why did she give up her life for Ashley?"

Cecelia's cheeks flushed. "I can't say."

"Was she the real mother? Is that it? Ashley was her child, not Patrice's?"

"No," she said, with a wan smile. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

"I have to know. Please tell me."

"I can't."

"Did you promise Lauren you wouldn't tell?"

"No. She never knew I found out. One night when she was really drunk, she came over to my house and told me this horrible story. The next morning, she didn't remember she'd said anything. I never had the guts to bring it up again."

"What could possibly be that awful?"

No answer.

"It has something to do with Lauren's mother's suicide, doesn't it? That article I gave you triggered something, didn't it?"

"How do you do it?" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest and shifting her body until she had almost completely turned from me.

"Do what?"

"You are the most persistent person! The first time you asked me questions, I was determined not to tell you anything. It didn't seem right, having you know all these private things about Lauren."

"What made you change your mind?"

"That's just it," she said, anguished, "I never did, not consciously. Things kept slipping out, and you listened and accepted, and you never judged. You began to remind me of Lauren. I looked at you, and I saw her. The intensity. The isolation. You even look like her. Not physically, but your movements. The way you study me, your posture, your smile."

She hesitated, her body rigid with pain. "After our last lunch, I could hardly keep myself from calling you at home. I wanted you to be with me, to hold me, to tell me everything would be all right, like Lauren used to do."

I reached for her hand before she asked, "You know what's the most similar?"

Frozen with fear, I couldn't reply.

"The pain in both of you. You understand Lauren's, don't you?"

"More than you'll ever know." My voice sounded distorted.

"And you wouldn't think any less of her if she made a mistake, would you?"

"No," I answered honestly.

Cecelia examined me before she spoke. When her words finally flowed, I had to strain to catch them. "She loved Ashley so much, Kris. You have to believe that! It wasn't fair. She was trying to do something nice by babysitting. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone."

My heart stopped. "Did she cause Ashley's injury?"

She nodded slightly.

"She dropped her when she was an infant?" I asked hopefully.

Cecelia ignored me and fell into silence. Before I could phrase my next question, she began to speak, in a lifeless tone, as if unaware of my presence. "She was trying to quiet her one night. She walked around for hours, but every time she tried to sit, Ashley would start crying again. Patrice and Stephen were out at dinner. Nicole was out with friends. Lauren didn't know what to do. She kept walking, until she was exhausted and almost delirious."

I gently interrupted. "Why didn't she put her to bed and let her cry herself to sleep?"

"She tried a bunch of times, but Ashley got so upset, she turned red all over and had trouble breathing. Lauren was afraid something would happen if she left her alone, so she kept pacing, but started to panic. She fed her, changed her, sang to her. Nothing worked. She tried everything. Absolutely everything." Cecelia broke off, unable to utter the conclusion.

"And then she did something to her?" I prodded, crestfallen.

She nodded numbly, and our eyes locked in agony. "She shook her, which quieted her."

"Forever," I whispered lamely before I could stop myself.

21.

I couldn't let go of Cecelia's words for hours. I returned to Marketing Consultants, hunkered down in my office, and read back issues of People magazinea"all the while pretending to work.

Activity buzzed around me. The phones rang, UPS dropped off packages, the printer picked up artwork, and my employees chatted merrily.

Yet, I couldn't focus on the same thought for more than thirty seconds without visions of Lauren and Cecelia interrupting.

It took two hours of inline skating around Washington Park to somewhat quiet my mind.

After the exercise, I went home and tried to nap but couldn't close my eyes. Destiny joined me at six, and we ate at a nearby Thai restaurant before returning to my apartment for the night.

As she unpacked her cosmetics in the bathroom, I stole up behind her and watched.

After a time, I spoke nonchalantly, "You know, if we're going to live together, maybe we could get a place big enough for David to live with us."

"Excuse me?" she said slowly.

"When he gets better, maybe he could stay with us awhile."

She met my eyes in the mirror. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"No," I said tentatively. "But he can't live by himself again."

"What about your mom or dad?"

"They won't take him. They try to pawn him off on each other. No one cares about him, Destiny, except you and me."

"I've tried to be supportive of you, Kris . . ." She focused on the ground, unable to finish her sentence.

"But?" I prompted.

"This isn't one of your better ideas."

I stared at her gravely. "Why not?"

"He's not your responsibility."

"If my parents were dead, I'd step in."

"But they're not, and you might not be able to cope with all his problems."

I thrust my hands into my jeans pockets. "I could try."

She shook her head sadly. "It would change your life beyond belief."

"So?"

Destiny took a step toward me, but I retreated. "You're not being realistic, Kris. We dated for months before you even told me you had a brother. At the end of our outings, you're always frustrated with him, and that was before the coma. Who knows what he'll be like if he comes out of it."

"I could learn to be patient," I said, sullen.

"I couldn't, not that much anyway."

"Meaning what?" I stunned her with the sharpness of my tone.

Her eyes glistened. "I can't live with him, Kris."

I raised my voice. "How do you know if you haven't tried?"

"I know he'd ruin our relationship. I can't risk that."

"Then I can't live with you."

Aghast, she said, "You're not serious."

"I am."

"You're choosing him over me?" she asked, her face composed but pale.

"No," I said after a pause. "I'm choosing me over us. This is something that's important to me, and if you're not willing to at least consider it, I have no intention of living with you."

"But, Kris, you can't throw away your life like this. What about the plans we made?" she asked, devastated.

"Consider them canceled."

Furious, she snapped, "I'm not staying with you tonight, not when you're like this. Maybe tomorrow you'll come to your senses, and we can talk."

Destiny stormed into the bedroom and began to throw things into her bag.

"Don't bother calling me tomorrow. I won't have changed my mind," I screamed at her back as she stomped out the front door.

"Don't worry!" she cried, winning the last retort.

Five minutes later, I heard a soft tap on the door.

From my fetal position on the couch, I ignored it and barely flinched when I heard a key turn in the lock.

Seconds later, I was glowering at the tops of Destiny's shoes.

She gently touched my shoulder. "I can't leave like this, Kris. Could we talk?"

"I have nothing to say," I muttered, crushed.

"I do. Will you listen?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug, which she must have taken as a yes, because she lowered herself to the floor in front of me.

"I know you've been going through a lot lately, what with the case, and David, and seeing your family and all. I don't want to fight."

"Me neither," I mumbled between tears.

"Do you really want David to live with us?"

"No," I choked, burying my head deeper into the cushion. "I hate him."

"No, you don't," she said, stroking my hair.

"Yes, I do, because he takes and takes, and all I know how to do is give. Ann, she's the type who never gives anything unless she wants to, but I'm the opposite. I give until it hurts. I'll bet you she never spent one day of her life feeling guilty for how healthy we are and how sick David is," I said scathingly.

"Probably not."

"I think about it all the time."

"I'm sure you do," she said tenderly.

I raised up from the pillow. "Remember when we took him to Bonanza last month?"