"I've made all the arrangements for transportation," Greg offered quickly. "The tests can be done over the weekend with surgery on Monday. The MediJet can be here this afternoon."

Steve glared at Greg. "It's not up to you to make decisions about my son."

"I think you should let Dr. Nelson make the decision. Chest surgery is her area of expertise," Greg countered.

"Now, Steve," Dr. Chambers turned toward Steve with a look of concern. "I know you're anxious and want what's best for that little boy. You know, you and Laura were really wonderful to adopt him, what with four kids of your own and you two with such busy careers. I don't recall your father even telling me. I'm sure everything will work out. I've got all the transfer doc.u.ments ready to go."

"Adopted? n.o.body told me that," said Tim.

Steve's eyes opened wide. "What are you talking about?"

"How much do you know about the natural parents' family history anyway? I didn't think to ask you that earlier, Dr. Nelson," Dr. Chambers went on. "Can this be something hereditary?"

"Hereditary?" Steve echoed.

"Well, I a.s.sumed you adopted him."

Steve looked at the elderly physician as if he were a doddering fool. Laura, sitting next to Steve, turned a chalky white.

"Simple matter of genetics. Your blood's been A/B negative for as long as I can remember, Steve. Very rare, that's why I remember. You and your - anyway, Laura, yesterday's bloodwork showed you to be B neg. Dr. Nelson offered to donate yesterday and well," he glanced over at her, "two negatives just can't make a positive. Since Patrick is O positive, I just a.s.sumed -"

Steve stared at the older man as a look of abject horror crossed his face.

"Doesn't the child know?" Dr. Chambers asked. "Children should be told right off, as young as possible, so there aren't problems later. That's what I tell my families who adopt."

"You're saying that my son is not my son?" Steve swung slowly around and looked at Laura who sat rigid in the chair beside him. "Laura, what's he saying? This is all a big mistake. Laura?"

Laura would not look at him. He stared at his wife. A long moment pa.s.sed.

"No, no, no. It can't be!" Steve suddenly bolted out of his chair, lunging toward Laura, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her. "How could you - you wh.o.r.e!"

Greg and Tim jumped up. Each gripped one of Steve's arms as Laura sat frozen, not moving a muscle to defend herself. Dean Chambers remained in his chair, head bowed into his hands, as Steve struggled to free himself.

"You take your b.a.s.t.a.r.d wherever you want," Steve spat at Laura, "but don't you even think about getting near my real sons again."

"Steve, Steve, let's not be so impetuous," Dean Chambers managed. His kindly face registered confusion and regret.

"Let go of me!" Steve ignored Dr. Chamber's plea as he writhed to free himself. When Greg and Tim finally released him, Steve abruptly left the room, on his way crashing into a supply cart and a dozen stainless steel emesis basins clattered to the floor.

Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, known throughout the pediatric medical world as CHOP, sent a fully equipped MediJet to Traverse City. It arrived at one thirty on Friday and was scheduled to leave within the hour. The day was bright and sunny and they'd estimated three hours for the return flight. As the medical officer in charge, Dr. Tim Robinson checked all the medical supplies and instruments as he waited for the arrival of his pa.s.sengers. The manifest he'd prepared for the return flight to Philly included both Laura and Steve. It would be a full flight with himself, the pilots and co-pilot, and an intensive care nurse.

After the nightmare scene in the conference room, Laura forced herself to pull it together. Her focus had to be on Patrick right now, and with Tim and Greg's help the arrangements were finalized to transfer him to CHOP. As she sat with Patrick, Laura tried to make the trip sound like an adventure, but he was apathetic. She reached for the chart on the hook at the foot of his bed and flipped through the progress notes to the lab results, searching for the latest blood gases. As she noted the steady fall in arterial oxygen levels, she withheld a gasp and immediately inspected her son more carefully, taking in the bluish discoloration of his lips and nail beds.

Patrick squirmed. "What's wrong, Mom? Where's Dad?"

Laura didn't know what to say. What to tell him about Steve? "Listen honey, your job is to wait here while everybody gets ready for your trip. I'll be right back," she said, "then we leave with Dr. Robinson."

Patrick made a face. "I want Dad."

Laura found Greg by the telephone in the visitor's waiting room about to place a call.

"Greg, can you take me to Steve's father's house? Right now?"

"One second, Laura. I've got to call Rob back about Judge Potter. We have to make sure it's a 'go' here." He glanced at his watch. "We have less than an hour."

"Now, please. It's only a five minute drive, and I have to go now," she pleaded. "Patrick's worse. He wants his father."

Greg hung up the receiver and started to follow Laura out the door. "Do you really think Steve will -?"

"He's got to be there for him. I've got to convince him that none of this was Patrick's fault. It would be devastating for the child to lose his father, especially now. I don't know what to do, but I'll do anything."

"Laura, what are you doing here? After ..." Jim Nelson stammered as he stood blocking the front door. "How could you do this to my son? To all of us? I know things have been tough for you and Steve, but I've always trusted you, defended you. You know how much Steve loves that little boy."

"I'm so sorry, Jim." Of course she was sorry that she had hurt her family, her husband, and especially Patrick, who she feared would pay the price. But the truth was, she would never be sorry about that one night and she would never, never tell a living soul about it. This she had solemnly vowed over seven years ago, before leaving Detroit forever.

"Is that all you have to say?"

"It's that things were awful between Steve and me at the time." Laura could think of absolutely nothing else to say as she made up this response. "Please understand."

There was a prolonged, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Laura said, "Please, tell Steve that I need to talk to him."

Jim Nelson shook his head. "He's very upset. I'm not sure you want - Steve came home from the hospital all in pieces. I had to call Dr. Chambers to find out what happened. He's just beside himself for bringing it up at all."

"Jim, I really am sorry that it happened this way, but Patrick needs Steve. He's getting worse and he's calling for his dad."

"Steve, Laura's here," the older man called inside, still not letting Laura across the threshold.

In a moment, a disheveled Steve appeared beside his father. Blonde hair falling out of place, his eyes red and puffy, the neat slacks and shirt he'd worn to the hospital rumpled.

"What do you want?" he stared at her, sadness mingled with fury.

"Steve, we have to talk. You can't just abandon Patrick at a time like this. He's just a little boy. He idolizes you. It's not his fault, and he's so sick right now -"

Steve turned away.

"Please, Steve."

"Son, why don't you let her in? Sit out on the back porch. Try to talk things out." Jim led them back through the shade of maples and the smell of roses. Silently she and Steve followed, taking a seat next to one another on the back porch swing they had always loved when they were young. "None of us are perfect, son," said Jim Nelson as he closed the door behind them.

"So, what? You're here to tell me what happened over eight years ago back in Detroit? Which one of those doctors knocked you up?" Steve moved as far as he could to the edge of the swing.

"It was so long ago, I don't -"

"You don't remember?" Steve cut her off. "What? There were so many you don't remember who you f.u.c.ked? And you give me grief over one f.u.c.king single mistake like you're some kind of canonized saint? My G.o.d, this is - I can't believe this. All these years -"

Laura's hands rose up in a "stop" gesture. "You don't understand, Steve. It's not like that."

"Then you tell me what it is 'like.' I keep going back to 1970. I thought we were happy. Sure, we had a tough year with you being pregnant with the twins and all that trauma around their early birth, but after that I actually thought we were f.u.c.king happy."

Laura remained quiet.

Steve's eyes were wild as he ran his fingers again and again through his hair. "I have to admit that when you got pregnant with the twins, I suspected something. Naw, you're just being paranoid, I kept telling myself. But there was my beautiful wife, a med student, spending nights and days with all those f.u.c.king doctors. On call. Medical meetings. All that s.h.i.t. And I talked myself into trusting you. What a G.o.dd.a.m.ned fool. Maybe I should be blaming myself for being so stupid instead of blaming you for betraying me."

Tears flowed down Laura's cheeks. "You can blame me, Steve, just don't blame Patrick. It's not his fault."

"No, it's not, but you know how the child always pays for your 'sins'? G.o.d, look what happened to my mother - and me - after my brother -"

"Steve, it's not - I was raped," Laura said quietly, her eyes downcast.

"What? Raped?" Steve lifted her chin with one hand so he could look into her eyes. Lying eyes, like the song, flashed though his mind.

Laura was silent.

"'I was raped'?" he echoed. "And where was I? We'd been married for seven years by then. And now what, nine years later, when it's convenient, you tell me that you were raped?" He jerked his hands away from her head.

"It's the truth, Steve," Laura spoke so quietly that Steve had to lean in to hear her. "I never reported it. I never told you - or anyone."

"Didn't tell anyone that you were raped? You expect me to believe that? Sure you do. You've taken me for a fool all these years."

"No. I was afraid. I thought you'd make me quit school back then. I didn't want the shame. Then when I knew I was pregnant I didn't know. I still thought - prayed - the father was you. I mean, if it weren't for that blood test, I still wouldn't know."

"What a fool I am. I've got four kids with blue green eyes, and one with brown - or hazel, as you've always insisted. You knew all the time. How can you sit there and lie to me like this?"

"Steve, I did it for Patrick. I didn't think it would be fair to him to ever let him find out. Please, don't tell him."

"I won't." Steve's voice turned hoa.r.s.e. "He's not my son. I'll take care of my real sons, but I can't face Patrick. That's it."

Laura burst into new tears. "Please, can't we all be together again?" She took Steve's hand, expecting that he would pull it back, but he didn't.

He looked down at her hand. "What? I don't see how you can even ask me that."

"The last time we talked you said you wanted us to all go away," she said in a rush. "Start all over, you know, fresh."

He stared at her. "That was a lifetime ago. And remember, you said, 'no'."

"I've ... I've reconsidered." Laura squeezed his hand, pleading now. "We can put our lives back together."

His hand squeezed back. "Truth is, Laura, we've both made mistakes. What I learned this morning was a shock, an affront to my manhood. I don't know how I'll live with it. But, I admit I've done things, things I'm not proud of, and I wish we could just go back to those happy years. Remember when we'd sneak out here after Mom and Dad had gone to bed and just talk away the night under the stars?"

Laura nodded, sniffling, pulling out a pack of Kleenex, blowing her nose.

"Remember how thrilled we were when Mikey was born? And then Kev? We survived on loans and scholarships, but, as the song goes, we had the world on a string. Remember how we'd splurge and go out and buy every one of Elvis's alb.u.ms. Go to all his movies. Even the crummy ones."

"Yes, I remember," said Laura. "We were so much in love. What went wrong?"

"I don't know," he continued, now stroking her hand with his free one. "Busy careers. More kids." He paused for a long time. "I guess now we know - not enough trust."

"Steve, about the rape -"

"No, let's not go into that again. You need to get on your way, and I have to take care of Mike and Kevin." He placed her hand back on her knee, patting it gently.

Shaking her head, Laura glanced at her watch. "I do have to go. Please, Steve. Change your mind about Patrick."

He rose from the swing and turned to Laura, clearing his throat. "I hope the surgery goes well. You're right about one thing - this is not Patrick's fault."

With a deep sigh, Laura stood up. "Okay. Look, I have to say good-bye to Mike and Kevin."

"The boys are very upset, Laura. I don't want them to see you like this. They're upstairs. I told them not to come down."

She wiped away tears, hand shaking, but careful not to dislodge her lenses. "Just to say good-bye."

Without another word, Steve headed into the house through the back door. Laura heard the slide of the bolt. She grabbed the porch rail to steady herself, quickly drawing back as a rusty nail pierced the palm of her hand. A large drop of blood oozed out and with her free hand she reached inside her purse for the one remaining Kleenex and started dabbing the blood away.

Blood. Oh, G.o.d, how could she possibly have just given blood without a thought to these consequences?

Greg stood to the side as the MediJet pilots completed their checklist. He'd finally gotten in touch with Rob and learned that the news from Tampa was good: Judge Potter had given verbal permission for Laura to travel from Michigan to Pennsylvania with her sick child. As if answering his wish, the judge had not specified a custodial escort, so there was no necessity for Greg to accompany her, and in his pocket was an airline ticket to Tampa. Celeste would be arriving home from Atlanta, and he had just enough time to make the flight once he saw Laura off. As that time neared, however, he doubted he'd make it.

Laura had returned to the car devastated after talking with Steve. She kept shaking her head, sobbing, "He won't come, he won't come."

"Give it some time," Greg advised, worried now that Laura, always so strong, was not going to hold up.

"He won't even let me talk to Mike and Kevin," she sniffled. "G.o.d, would he be able to take them away from me, Greg?"

"I really don't know. It's complicated, as you know, but Carrie's working on it. In the meantime, Steve's very angry right now. Hurt and angry," was all Greg could think to say as they sped back to the hospital.

"But how can he just reject Patrick? He's always loved him the most of all the kids, and Patrick's so sick. He'll never understand this terrible rejection. Greg, I told him I'd go back with him, move wherever he wants. My G.o.d, I'm desperate."

"After all these years," Greg said slowly, "I guess it was quite a shock." He didn't go on to say, 'How would any man feel finding out nine years later that his wife had f.u.c.ked another guy?' So far she'd not given him so much as a hint as to how to solve the mystery of Patrick's paternity, and it was obvious that Dr. Laura Nelson was not exactly who she seemed to be. What he did say was, "And both of you are under an incredible amount of stress. Try to remember that you, both of you, are only human."

The team of white coats had just completed all the connections for the flight - the intravenous lines, the oxygen flow meters, the EKG leads. Then they pushed the small stretcher toward Laura and Greg, who said, "Right now, Laura, you have to concentrate on that little guy over there. Let's get on that plane."

Laura's eyes brimmed with fresh tears along with a flicker of hope as she looked into his. "Are you coming with us?"

"Well, there's an extra place now."

"But I thought -"

"It's okay," Greg glanced around and saw Dr. Chambers and Dr. Robinson heading toward them. Did he have time to call Celeste? No. Besides she'd be in the air by now.

"Dr. Nelson, I'm terribly sorry about this morning," Dean Chambers said apprehensively. "I just a.s.sumed that, well, I am truly sorry."

Laura nodded as Tim approached her and affectionately put his arm around her. "Come on, honey, let's get this show on the road. Where's our boy?" he called within earshot of Patrick, who lay propped up by several pillows looking nonplussed by all the nurses' attention.

They walked over to Patrick's stretcher and Tim reached out and squeezed the little boy's shoulder. "Our man here is hooked up to oxygen, and we'll keep it flowing throughout the flight, right Pat?"

Patrick nodded.

Tim also nodded, speaking now to the nurses. "We'll hook up the EKG on board for constant monitoring. We've got all the records and we're ready to roll."