Paige clicked her tongue. "Bringing new life into the world is never a mess-up. What gets hairy is the way we handle it." She guided Jill to the examining room. "Let's take a look and see what we're dealing with here."

Ten minutes later they were back in the office, sitting close on the small sofa, trying to "handle" the situation. Jill ruled out an abortion, for which Paige who had fresh visions of Mara pregnant at the very same age, would have been grateful even if the timing had been right, though it wasn't. Paige estimated that Jill was indeed four to five months pregnant and although physically an abortion might still have been safely performed, the emotional ramifications would be tougher. Then again, raising the baby was a hardship Jill could ill afford, the Stickleys had negative economic resources, and without a high school diploma, Jill had little chance of improving on it.

Adoption seemed the wisest solution.

The immediate problem, given that Jill was still a minor, was breaking the news to her parents. Knowing that the longer they waited the worse it would be, Paige phoned each, arranged a meeting in her office at three-thirty that afternoon, then ordered Jill to take a nap on the sofa while she saw her afternoon patients.

Frank Stickley was furious. His wife, Jane stood by in fearful silence while he cursed Jill's lack of brains, morals, and looks, none of which Paige found lacking in the least.

"Jill made a mistake," Paige pointed out calmly. "It isn't anything that has to spoil her life."

"Are you kidding" Frank yelled. "She's having a kid " "Which she'll be giving up for adoption. The adoption agency will cover the cost of her medical care. There won't be any imposition on you."

"But I have to look at her all those months, look at that belly getting bigger and bigger, and know that the whole town knows and is laughing up a storm." He faced Jill. "You're a slut. I told you this'd happen. That boyfriend of yours was no good. I said it. But did you listen? Naaaaah. You knew all the answers.

Well, what's your answer about school? How you gonna finish school having a baby?"

"I'm dropping out. I'll finish after I have the baby."

"She'll carry the baby to term," Paige said in support, "give it up for adoption, then pick up her life right where she left off."

"Not in my house, she won't."

"Frank," his wife protested, then cowered when he aimed a finger her way. The finger was threat enough. He didn't have to say another word.

"You won't know I'm around, Daddy. Really," Jill promised.

ill'll know. So will every randy dandy in Tucker. You can bet that once that baby's gone, they'll be coming round, now that that stupid boyfriend of yours ran off. Well, I won't have it. You want to stay in town, you can find somewhere else to live. I don't want to see you." Without so much as a glance at either his wife or Paige, he stormed from the office.

Jill started to cry.

Jane looked tormented, torn between appeasing Frank by following him out and staying to comfort her daughter.

"Go with him," Paige urged softly, taking Jill's hand. "Jill's coming home with me."

Jane gave a convulsive head shake. "You can't" "I've just hired her.

I need a live-in someone for a little while. It's perfect." She shooed Jane out. "Go. Make things as easy on yourself as you can. We Looking dubious, Jane left, and in the quiet that ensued, Paige told Jill about Sami. "It's the perfect solution," she concluded. "If you're determined to drop out of schoolnwhich she was, though Paige had done her best to dissuade her_4you'll need something to keep you busy. I need someone to watch Sami when I'm at work and when emergency calls come through at night." With Jill in one of the upstairs rooms, she wouldn't have a qualm about setting up Sami in the other. The fact that her little house was getting fuller and fuller seemed secondary.

"It's an important job. Sami has special needs right now. Do you think you can do itvt "Do you think I can?" Jill asked cautiously Paige smiled. "Without a doubt." Her smile faltered then reappeared.

"And you aren't allergic to cats." She glanced at her watch.

"This is perfect timing. I have cross-country practice in an hour. I was going to take Sami with me to Mount Court." Though the Head would never have approved. She wondered if he would be on the lookout for her. "Now I won't have to. We'll send Mrs. Busbee home, put Sami in the carriage, and you can take her for a long walk while I run. It'll be good for you both.

She's a little angel. You'll see." She was rising to clean up her desk when the phone rang.

"There's a fellow on the line asking for Mara," Ginny reported. "He's calling from New York. From Air India. Do you want to take it?"

Paige felt the nudge of an awful sixth sense.

"Right now," she said, and pressed in the call. "This is Paige Pfeiffer. I'm Mara O'Neill's partner. May I help you?"

"Yes, please," said a voice with a British accent.

He gave his name and identified himself as a supervisor. "I've been trying to reach Dr. O'Neill, but I can't seem to get an answer at the number she left. I understand that that was her home number and that this is her professional one, and I do apologize for disturbing her here, but I would very much like to speak with her."

"May I ask what this is about?"

The fellow cleared his throat. "It's a bit awkward. I have an apology to make, actually.

Is Dr. O'Neill there?"

"No. But I'd be glad to take a message."

"Oh, dear. I had wanted to speak directly with her."

"That may be difficult. For the sake of expediency, perhaps I would do."

The man considered that. "Yes. I suppose." He took a breath. "You see, Dr. O'Neill phoned this office last Tuesday to check on the progress of a flight from Calcutta to Bombay.

The agent who took her call is new with us and was a bit confused operating the computer system. I'm afraid he erroneously told her that the flight on which, I believe, she had a child, had crashed."

Paige closed her eyes.

The voice by her ear continued. Ulndeed there was an accident on one of our aircraft that night, but it was not the one on which the child and her escort were traveling.

Unfortunately, what with trying to handle the calls we were receiving from those who truly did have parties on the ill-fated plane, our agent did not realize his mistake until week's end. At that time, he verified that the child and her escort had landed safely in Boston, but he did relate to me what had happened, and responsibly so. We would like to apologize to Dr. O'Neill for any fright we may have caused.

Air India does not make a practice of passing on misinformation. We sincerely regret having done so in this instance. I trust that Dr.

O'Neill has custody of her child, and that all is well."

Paige wrapped an arm around her waist. In a small voice she said, "Can you tell me what time it was when Dr. O'Neill called you7" "It was four twenty-five. We had received news of the accident a mere ten minutes before that and were still trying to get the details, so you can imagine the pandemonium...."

Not pandemonium. Total despair. Mara had wanted Sami more than anything. She had shopped around for Just the right adoption agency, had waded through the paperwork and the pre-adoptive sessions laid bare her soul and her financial records, paid every appropriate fee, bought a crib, baby clothes and food. She had regarded Sami's arrival as the start of a new phase of her life.

. . . again our sincere apologies," concluded the Air India supervisor.

Paige managed a feeble, "Thank you." She needed two tries to settle the phone in its cradle, unable to think of anything but the pain Mara must have felt.

"Dr. Pfeiffer? Is anything wrong?"

She looked up, startled to find Jill Stickley there but only for the minute it took to return to the present. She recomposed herself and took a deep breath. "Nothing for you to worry about," she said lightly, and gestured Jill toward the door.

During the drive home, she avoided thinking about that phone call. She settled Jill in with Sami who recognized Paige, she was sure of it, though all the coaxing in the world couldn't bring a smile and headed for Mount Court, where she put the girls through a series of sprints, two warm-up loops around the campus, a three-mile run on the course then more sprints. She ran with them, pushing them as fast as she could push herself, and when they grumbled all she said was, "It's for a good cause."

What she didn't need was Noah Perrine, monitoring the final sprints from the stoop of the distant administration building, but there he was with his arms crossed over his chest and his glasses glinting in the late afternoon sun. Annoyed, she stopped where she was, folded her arms over her heaving chest, and stared right back until the girls collected around her.