fury behind them. "I have to live with it every day. Do you think

talking about it helps, finding excuses, choosing reasons? What

difference does it make why it happened? It happened. I'm going for a

walk." She raced down the steps and headed toward the surf.

KATHERINE WAs A PANENT WOMAN. For two days she said nothing, made no

reference to the talk she and Emma had had. She waited, while Emma kept

a polite distance.

The days were anything but uneventful. Because it was her first trip to

the States, Stevie wanted to show Katherine everything. They spent

hours sightseeing, taking in all the tourist spots from the walk of the

stars to Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm. There were clubs in the

evening. Sometimes they went alone, sometimes as a group. She liked

best the nights they spent at home, with Stevie sitting for hours making

love to his guitar.

But she thought incessantly about Emma. Stevie understood-perhaps that

was why Katherine had fallen in love with him-that she had to help, even

when help was rejected.

She took her chances when she heard Emma go downstairs before

dawn one morning. Following her down, Katherine found all the lights

shining. Emma was in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar and

staring out the dark window.

"I wanted some tea," Katherine said easily and walked to the stove. "I

always find it comforting when I wake this early." She didn't comment on

the tears drying on Emma's cheeks, but busied herself with cups and

saucers. "I admire your mother. The way she adds a few touches and

makes the kitchen the coziest room in the house. With mine, I always

feel as though I'm standing in someone else's closet."

She measured out tea in a painted pot shaped like a cow.

"Stevie took me through the Universal Studios tour yesterday afternoon.

Have you ever been?" She waited only a beat for Emma's response, then

continued. "I got a close-up look at Jaws and wondered why the film had

terrified me. But then it's all image and illusion." She poured the

boiling water into the pot and let the tea steep. "The little tram rode

by Norman Bates's house-you know, from Psycho? It looks exactly the

same, just what you'd expect, but without the terror. It seems when you

lift something out of context, even something frightening, it loses

power. It becomes just an odd little house or a mechanical fish."

"Life isn't the same as films."

"No, but I've always thought there were interesting parallels. Would

you like cream?"

"No. No, thank you." She was silent while Katherine poured the tea.

Then the words came out before she could stop them. "Sometimes it's as

though the time I spent with Drew was a film. Something I can look at,

detached. And then, on mornings like this when I wake up before the

light, I think I'm back in New York, in the apartment, and he's sleeping

beside me. I can almost hear him breathing in the dark. Then the rest,

these last months, are the film. Does that make me crazy?"

"No. It makes you a woman who lived through a terrible ordeal."

"But he's gone. I know he's gone. Why should I still be afraid?"

"Are you?"