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“It was okay. How was yours?”

“Not bad.”

Jessie smiled, and when she did, she looked very much as Melanie had when she was a little girl. She was more angular than her mother was, and already two inches taller than Mel in her bare feet, but there was a lot of her mother in her, which accounted for the rare bond the two women shared; there were times when it didn't even require words. And other times when their friendship exploded because of the similarities that made them almost too close. “I saw the piece you did about the legislation for the handicapped on the evening news.”

“What did you think?” She always liked to hear what they said, especially Jess. She had a fine mind, and was very direct with her words, unlike her twin, who was kinder, less critical, and softer in a myriad of ways.

“I thought it was good, but not tough enough.”

“You're mighty hard to please.” But her sponsors were too. Jessica met her eyes with a shrug and a smile. “You taught me to question what I hear and be demanding of the news.”

“Did I do that?” The two women exchanged a warm smile. She was proud of Jess, and in turn Jessica was proud of her. Both twins were. She was a terrific mother to them. The three of them had shared some damn tough years. It had brought them closer, in respect, and attitudes.

Mother and daughter exchanged another long look. In a way, Melanie was just a shade gentler than her oldest child. But she was of another generation, another lifetime, a different world. And for her time, Melanie had already come far. But Jessica would go further, move ahead with even more determination than Mel had. “Where's Val?”

“In her room.”

Melanie nodded. “How are things in school?”

“Okay.” But she thought Jessica sagged a little as she asked, and then sensing her mother's thoughts, she once again sought Melanie's eyes. “I saw John today.”

“How was that?”

“It hurt.”

Melanie nodded and sat down on the bed, grateful for the openness that they always shared. “What did he say?”

“Just ‘hi.’ I don't know, I hear he's going out with some other girl.”

“That's rough.” It had been almost a month now, and Melanie knew that it was the first real blow Jessica had suffered since she had started school. Always near the top of her class, surrounded by friends, and chased by all the best boys in school since she'd turned thirteen. Just shy of her sixteenth birthday, she had experienced her first heartbreak, and it hurt Melanie to watch it, almost as much as it hurt Jess. “But you know, what you've forgotten by now is that there were times when he really got on your nerves.”

“He did?” Jessica looked surprised.

“Yes, ma'am. Remember when he showed up an hour late to take you to that dance? When he went skiing with his friends instead of taking you to the football game? The time he …” Melanie seemed to remember them all, she knew her girls' lives well, and Jessica grinned.

“Okay, okay, so he's a creep … I like him anyway …”

“Him, or just having someone around?” There was a moment's silence in the room, and Jessica looked at her with surprised eyes.

“You know, Mom … I'm not sure.” She was stunned. The uncertainty was a revelation to her.

Melanie smiled. “Don't feel alone. Half the relationships in the world go on because of that.”

Jessica looked at her then, her head turned to one side; she knew how difficult her mother's standards were, how badly she'd been hurt, how careful she was not to get involved. Sometimes it made Jess sorry for her. Her mother needed someone. Long ago, she had hoped it would be Grant, but she knew long since that was not destined to be. And before she could say anything more, the door opened and Valerie walked in.

“Hi, Mom.” And then she saw the serious looks they wore. “Should I go?”

“No.” Melanie was quick to shake her head. “Hello, love.” Valerie bent to give her a kiss and a smile. She looked so different from Melanie and Jess that one almost wondered if she were related to the other two. She was smaller than both Melanie and her twin, but with a voluptuous body that made men drool as she walked by, large, full breasts, a tiny waist, small, rounded hips, shapely legs, and a curtain of blond hair that fell almost to her waist. There were times when Melanie saw men's reactions to her child and almost visibly cringed. Even Grant had been taken aback when he'd seen her recently. “For God's sake, Mel, put a bag over the child's head until she turns twenty-five, or you'll drive the neighborhood mad.” But Melanie had responded with a rueful smile, “I don't think putting it over just her head would do the trick.” She watched Valerie with a careful eye, more so than Jess, because one sensed instantly about Valerie that she was almost too open and very naive. Val was bright, but not as sharp as her twin, part of her charm was that she was almost totally unaware of herself. She breezed in and out of a room with the happy-go-lucky ease of a child of three, leaving men panting in her wake, as she unconcernedly went on her way. It was Jessica who had always watched over her in school, and even more so now. Jessica was well aware of how Valerie looked, so Valerie had two mothers watching over her.

“We watched you tonight on the news. You were good.” But unlike Jessica, she didn't say why, didn't analyze, didn't criticize, and in a funny way, what went on in Jessica's head made her almost more beautiful than her dazzling twin. And together, they were quite a pair, the one redheaded and long and lean, the other so voluptuous and soft and blond. “Are you having dinner with us tonight?”

“I sure am. I turned down dinner with Grant to have dinner with you two.”

“Why didn't you bring him home?” Val looked instantly chagrined.

“Because I enjoy being alone with you sometimes. I can see him some other time.” Val shrugged, and Jessica nodded, and at that instant, Raquel buzzed them from downstairs on the intercom. Val picked it up first, said “Okay,” and then hung up, and turned to her mother and twin.

“Dinner's on, and Raquel sounds pissed.”

“Val!” Melanie didn't look pleased. “Don't talk like that.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.”

“That's not enough reason for you to.” And with that, the threesome went downstairs, bantering about their day, Mel told them about the special on child abuse, she even told them about Pattie Lou Jones, desperate for a heart transplant which Mel had been assigned to find.

“How are you supposed to do that, Mom?” Jess looked intrigued. She loved stories like that, and thought that her mother did them exceedingly well.

“Grant said he'd give me some names, he did a show on four big heart-transplant specialists last year, and the network research people will give me some leads.”

“It should be a good piece.”

“Sounds disgusting to me.” Val made a face, as they walked into the dining room and Raquel glared.

“You think I gonna wait all night?” She grunted loudly and whisked through the swinging door, as the threesome exchanged a smile.

“She'd go crazy if she couldn't complain,” Jessica whispered to them both, and they laughed, sobering their faces for Raquel's benefit as she returned with a platter of roast beef.

“It looks great, Raquel!” Val was quick to offer praise as she helped herself first.

“Hrmph.” She whisked out again, returning with baked potatoes and steamed broccoli, and the three of them settled down to a quiet evening at home. It was the only place in Mel's life where she could totally, completely free herself of the news.

CHAPTER 3

“Sally? … Sally? …"She had been drifting in and out of consciousness all day, and Peter Hallam had been to see her five or six times. It was only her second postoperative day, and it was still difficult to tell how she would do, but he had to admit to himself that he wasn't entirely pleased. She opened her eyes at last, and realized who he was, and she greeted him with a warm smile, as he pulled up a chair, sat down, and took her hand. “How're you feeling today?”

She spoke to him in a whisper. “Not so good.”

He nodded. “It's still pretty soon. Every day you'll feel stronger.” He seemed to will his strength into her through his words and his voice, but slowly she shook her head. “Have I ever lied to you?”

She shook her head again, spoke again, despite the uncomfortable naso-gastric tube scratching the back of her throat. “It won't work.”

“If you want it to, it will.” Everything inside him went tense. She couldn't afford to think like that. Not now.

“I'm going to reject.” She whispered again. But he doggedly shook his head, a muscle tensing in his jaw. Dammit, why was she giving up? … And how did she know? … It was what he had feared all day. But she couldn't give up the fight … couldn't … dammit, it was like Anne … why did they suddenly lose their grasp? It was the worst battle he fought. Worse than the drugs, the rejection, the infections. They could deal with them all, at least to a point, but only if the patient still had the will to live … the belief that she would live. Without that, all was lost.

“Sally, you're doing fine.” The words were determined and firm, and he sat by her bedside for over an hour, holding her hand. And then he went to make rounds, in each room, turning his full attention to the patient he saw, spending as much time as was needed to explain either surgical procedures that were going to be conducted soon, or what had already happened, what they felt, why they felt it, what the medications and steroids had done. And then at last, he went back to Sally's room, but she was asleep once again, and he stood for a long time watching her. He didn't like what he saw. She was right; he sensed it in his gut. Her body was rejecting the donor's heart, and there was no reason why it should. It had been a good match. But he instinctively sensed that it came too late for her, and as he left the room, he had a sense of impending loss which weighed on him like a lead balloon.

He went to the small cubicle he used for an office when he was there, and called his office to see if they needed him there.

“Everything's fine, Doctor,” the efficient voice said. “You just had a call from New York.”

“From whom?” He didn't sound overly interested in the call, it was probably another surgeon wanting to consult on a difficult case, but his mind was filled with Sally Block, and he hoped it could wait.

“From Melanie Adams, on Channel Four news.” Even Peter knew who she was, as isolated as he sometimes was from the world. He couldn't figure out why she had called him.

“Do you know why?”

“She wouldn't say, or at least not in detail. She only said that it was urgent, something about a little girl.” He raised an eyebrow at that, even television newswomen had kids, maybe this had to do with her own child. He jotted down the number she had left, glanced at his watch, and dialed.

They put him through at once, and Melanie ran halfway across the newsroom to pick up a phone.

“Dr. Hallam?” She sounded breathless, and at his end, his voice was deep and strong.

“Yes. I had a message that you called.”

“I did. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. Our research department gave me your name.” She had heard it often too, but as he was on the West Coast it hadn't occurred to her to call, and the four names she'd gotten from Grant had done no good at all. Not one of them would do the surgery for the little black child. The publicity frightened them too much, and the surgery had to be done for free. Melanie had also called a surgeon of some note in Chicago, but he was in England and Scotland doing a lecture tour. She explained to Hallam quickly about the little girl, and he asked her a number of pertinent questions that she knew how to answer now. She had already learned a lot in one day, from talking to the other four.

“It sounds like an interesting case.” And then he spoke bluntly. “What's in it for you?”

She took a quick breath, it was hard to say. “On the surface, Doctor, a story for my network, about a compassionate doctor, a desperately sick little girl, and how transplants work.”

“That makes sense. I'm not sure I like the publicity angle though. And it's damn hard to find a donor for a child. Most likely we'd try something a little more unusual with her.”

“Like what?” Mel was intrigued.

“It depends on how severe she is. I'd like to see her first. We might first repair her own heart and put it back in.”

Mel knit her brows, that could create quite a stir. “Does that work?”

“Sometimes. Do her doctors think she'd survive the trip?”

“I don't know. I'd have to check. Would you actually do it?”

“Maybe. For her sake, not yours.” He sounded blunt again, but Mel couldn't fault it. He was offering to do the surgery for the child, not to make a spectacle of himself on the news. She respected him for that.

“Would you give us an interview?”

“Yes.” He spoke up without qualm. “I just want to make it clear why I'd do it at all. I'm a physician, and a surgeon, committed to what I do. I'm not looking to turn this into a circus, for any of us.”

“I wouldn't do that to you.” He had seen her stories on television before, and suspected that that was true. “But I would like to interview you. And if you do the transplant on Pattie Lou, it would provide an opening for a very interesting piece.”