"Because she has a warped imagination. She came on to me, not the other way around. I walked away from her. The letter is an apology."

"And a thanks for the pictures you took. What pictures, Peter?"

"Pictures of her. For her stepmother's birthday."

"Oh, please," Paige said, rolling her eyes.

After listening to Peter's drunken sobbing, after cleaning him when he was sick and sobering him up, she felt betrayed.

"They were," he muttered. "At least, that was what she told me. And the pictures I took were innocent. The minute she unbuttoned her blouse, I walked away. When I got home, I exposed the film." He braced the coffee cup between both hands, but it still shook on its way to his mouth.

Paige sighed. "I hope so, Peter, because, while I'm at it, it will be just as easy to fill two MD spots as one. I'm asking you a final time.

Do you have a problem?"

"Ask Julie," he grumbled.

"I'm asking you. I need your word. For the sake of all the children we see in the course of a year, I want to know whether there is any reason, any reason at all, why you shouldn't be practicing here."

He pushed himself to his feet, looking tired but steady. "There's no reason." He tossed his chin at the half-empty coffee cup, murmured, "Thanks for nothing," and left.

She watched him walk a straight line down the hall before turning back to clean up the kitchen.

sixteen SATURDAY NIGHT, SHORTLY AFTER TEN, PETER turned onto the cemetery road and gave the car enough gas to make the top of the hill.

He parked and climbed out, then reached back in for a small bouquet of flowers and crossed the grass to Mara's grave.

A crescent moon hung low in the sky, too slim to cast a shadow, but the darkness didn't frighten him. Nor did the field of headstones marking this the land of the dead. He had been living with a ghost for weeks.

Nothing he found here could be worse.

He was stone-cold sober. Nothing stronger than VZ juice had passed his lips since the night he had made a fool of himself in front of Paige.

The details of that night blurred, leaving only frayed bits of conversation, but they were enough to confirm his worst suspicions. It had been all he could do to look Paige in the eye the next morning and assure her that he was more than capable of seeing his patients.

Mara's headstone was a solid slab of local granite left raw and natural for all but the polished square on which had been carved her name, the dates of her life, and the epithet "Dear friend and healer once loved never forstotten."

He brushed several leaves from the top of the stone, then from the ground at its base.

After tossing aside the bouquet he had left the week before he set down the fresh one. The flowers were yellow and red, vibrant, as Mara would have liked, and though he knew that they wouldn't last long, he felt good bringing her something.

Better late than never, he thought, and sat down on the mound of leaves that he'd made. "Just visiting," he told her. "Life is lonely."

He hadn't seen Lacey and wasn't about to.

Their relationship had run its course and died a death that was, ironically, more permanent than this one. That relationship had been less substantial than this one.

He had admitted it to Paige, could certainly admit it to " Mara. I "There aren't many women around like you." He missed her in a visceral way. "So I don't know what Illdonow." I You could date someone local, he heard her say.

"I've never done that in my life, and you know it."

You could start. I "Why should l? They didn't want me when I was growing up, so I don't need them now. Besides n he added, "they know too much. They know my brothers."

And they'd make comparisons? That's bullshit Peter. No one compares you to your brothers any more. It's all in your mind "Maybe, but it's just as real. And don't tell me I'm insecure. Did you write about that in your letters?"

/ didn't have to. Anyone who knows you can see it "Gee, thanks. You always had a way of making me feel great. Would it have been so awful to say glowing things for once?"

Idid.

"You did? About what?"

What do you think?" I "About that? Really?" The thought of it pleased him. "Wonder if Paige was impressed. I could use a little boost in her eyes. Right now she's thinking I have a thing for little girls. I told her that I only like adult women, but she doesn't believe me. She doesn't think I should be practicing medicine at all. Bear with her, Peter. She s under a strain. "Well, damn it, so am I. She's dragging her tail about hiring someone new, even though you'd be the first one to tell her to do it."

So if she's dragging her tuil, you do it "Me? Nah. That's Paige's job. She'll interview people, then present them to me for approval.

That way I don't have to waste time on the dregs."

There s a flip side to that line of reasoning aYeah?"

Yeah. You don't get half as much a say as to whom you hire. Paige may rule someone outlike a gorgeous young femalewith whom you'd enjoy working.

She had a point. I "I suppose. Paige makes too many decisions herself. She has too much power. It gets to making her feel too important, like she could take unfounded allegations against me to the medical board and have my licensed revoked. If she ever tries to do that, she's in for a fight. My license to practice means as much to me as it does to you." Quietly he corrected, "Did to you. I'd be dead without it."

A siren wailed in the distance.

UUhKh. Car crash. Wonder where it is this time." He pulled up the collar of his coat against the chill of the night. "Probably one of the good ole boys driving his pickup into a tree."

You're awful.

aNah. Factual." He shivered and shot a look at trees that were growing skeletal.

"Winter's coming. We'll have snow within the month." He wondered if she'd be warm enough six feet under.

Then he caught ii himself. If factual was what he was, then he had to accept that she wouldn't be feeling anything at all, not this winter or the winter after, or one ten years down the road, or a hundred. She was dead. Dead.

He hoisted himself to his feet before the finality of it all got him down. "Gotta run. I can hear another siren coming our way.

Somethin's going' on. Could be they'll need a doc."

He started to leave, then did an about-face and returned. Kneeling at the very base of the stone, he moved the flowers closer, touched his fingertips to the letters of her name, and whispered, "I'II be back."

Feeling a huge throbbing in his chest where his feelings for Mara had been, he crossed the grass, climbed in his car, and cruised back down the hill in search of diversion.

With the canoe strapped to the top of the Explorer, their camping gear piled in the back, and Tucker less than half an hour away, Noah felt the kind of exhausted satisfaction that came from physical exertion and emotional reward.

Sara was asleep on the seat beside him, leaning against the door, pushing the limits of her shoulder harness. He checkedfor the tenth timeto make sure the lock was down and even then would have given anything to shift her so that she was leaning toward him. Body language spoke volumes. But he could be patient.

They had come a ways together in the past few days, not talking as much as he would like but cooperating nicely. Sara hadn't complained, not about portaging the canoe, or setting up camp the night before, or waking up to a brief and unexpected snow squall that morning. Sure, he would have loved it if she had showed enthusiasm. He would have loved it if she'd said "Wow, Dad, this is great!" or "You're so good at this!" or "I'll bet none of my friends are doing anything this cool on their fall breaks!"