that for later. "Do you want him to?"

Now she did smile. Dawn had come, and with it, the safety of morning.

"I've often wondered if psychiatrists are just gossips."

"Okay, we'll pa.s.s on that one. Can I make a suggestion?"

"All right."

"Get your camera, go out and take pictures today. Drew took a number of

things from you. Why don't you prove to yourself that he didn't take

everything?"

EmmA WASN'T SURE why she took Katherine's advice. She could think of

nothing she wanted to photograph. People had always been her favorite

subject, but she'd shied away from them for so long. Still she had to

admit it felt good to have the camera in her hand, to toy with lenses,

to plan a particular shot.

She spent the morning focusing on palm trees and buildings. The shots

wouldn't win any prizes, she knew, but the mechanics of photography were

relaxing. By noon she'd used up two rolls and wondered why she'd waited

so long to enjoy something she loved.

She wasn't sure why she pointed the car in the direction of Michael's

house. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, too pretty to spend alone.

She hadn't taken a picture of him since that first one years before.

Conroy would make an interesting subject. Those were all easy excuses.

She settled on them as she pulled up in front of his house.

Though his car was there, he didn't answer for so long she thought she'd

missed him. The dog had begun to bark on her first knock and now could

be heard howling and scratching on the other side of the door. She

heard Michael swear at him and grinned.

The moment he opened the door she knew she'd awakened him. It was past

noon, but his eyes were heavy and unfocused. He wore only a pair of

jeans, obviously tugged on hastily and still half zipped. He dragged a

hand over his face and back into his hair.

"Emma?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Michael. I should have called."

He blinked against the sunlight. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Listen, I'll go on. I was just out riding around."

"No, come on in." He reached for her hand as he glanced over his

shoulder. "s.h.i.t."

"Michael, really, it's a bad time. I can just-" She'd stepped over the

threshold. The dim light had her narrowing her eyes. "Oh my."

She couldn't think of anything else. The living room looked as though

it had been run over by a group of particularly vicious elves. "Have

you been robbed?"

"No." He was too groggy to worry about appearances and took her arm to

drag her back to the kitchen. The dog continued to bark and leap in

circles around them.

"You must have had a party," she decided and felt a bit miffed that he

hadn't asked her to come.

"No. Please G.o.d, let there be coffee," he muttered, pushing through the

cupboards.

"Here." She found the can of Maxwell House in the sink with a bag of

potato chips. "Would you like me to-"