“Dr. Crawford, we’re holding your daughter.”

Annie Crawford listened to the words, but for a long time they didn’t register. The man’s deep voice continued. “This is Lieutenant Macpherson of the twenty-third precinct. We picked up Sarah about an hour ago with a carload of teenagers and about a half ounce of marijuana.”

“I’m sorry,” Annie finally managed to say, “you must be mistaken. My daughter’s home in bed.”

There was a polite pause. “You may want to come down to the station. I could give you directions.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll just call home and confirm that Sally is there.” Without waiting for a response, Annie hung up and then dialed her home number. The phone rang five times before Ana Lise picked it up, her Copenhagen accent heavy with sleep.

“Ja, she’s in bed, Doctor. It’s after midnight.” Ana Lise sounded bewildered by the question.

“Please check.”

Moments later the housekeeper returned to the phone. Her voice was no longer puzzled or sleepy. “She’s gone. I do not understand this. She is nowhere in the apartment.”

“Damnation!” Trepidation made Annie breathless as she picked up the receiver again to dial the police station.

Dear Reader,

Maine is a place people come to for its unspoiled beauty as well as its graceful and timeless ability to heal weary souls battered by a fast-paced world.

In the innkeeping business one meets many wonderful and interesting people, and while this is a fictional story, it was born of a series of real-life encounters with people who were doing just what Lieutenant Jake Macpherson and Dr. Annie Crawford—hero and heroine of A Full House—seek to do.

Lily Houghton represents all elderly people faced with losing their independence. She wants to remain on the saltwater farm she loves, but after she breaks her hip in a fall, her son decides she’d be better off in an assisted living center, and lists her home with a local Realtor. Annie Caldwell rents it for the summer, and to find out the rest of the story, dear gentle reader, you must open the pages of this book.

If you’ve never visited the grand state of Maine, by all means put it on your list. E-mail me at www.harraseeketinn.com, and I’ll help you plan a vacation you’ll never forget. I’d love to hear from you.

Sincerely,

Nadia Nichols

A Full House
Nadia Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Zilla Soriano, my much-appreciated editor.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS A TIME when Annie Crawford looked forward to the unknown challenges she would face at work and the split-second, life-and-death decisions she made every day. But gradually, over the years, those feelings had changed. What she thought about now when she faced another shift was how long and stressful it would be and how desperately tired she was of holding people’s lives in her hands.

These days, in those rare moments of quiet that sporadically punctuated her chaotic world, she dreamed of being someplace else. Someplace warm, where gentle winds blew all the clouds away. Someplace serene and peaceful, where tall grasses grew and where sometimes, in the midst of this lush green field, there grazed the most beautiful herd of wild—

“Horses,” a man’s voice said, interrupting her reverie.

She blinked, lifted her chin out of her hand and gazed up at the broad, friendly face of the man who was lowering himself into a chair across the hospital cafeteria table from her. He was dressed in casual clothes and looked wide awake despite the lateness of the hour.

“For one incredibly hopeful moment I thought you might have been dreaming about me,” he continued, nudging a second cup of coffee across the table toward her. “But when I saw the sheer rhapsody of your expression, I knew it had to be that dream about the wild horses in the field of green grass.”

Annie accepted the coffee with a slow smile. “There were five of them, and one was a jet-black stallion with a white star. Matt, what are you doing here on your night off? What time is it?”

“Just after midnight. I stopped by to check on Bonnie Mills on my way home from having a few beers at Gritty’s.” Dr. Matt Brink tasted his coffee and made a face. “So, what’s shaking?”

“For a Saturday night it’s been downright boring, so I checked on her myself about an hour ago. She was sleeping like a baby.”

“Still is.” Matt grinned. “She’s going to be walking soon, I’d stake my job on it.”

“That’s the kind of miracle we need more of.” Annie lifted her cup and stared at the black brew briefly before taking a sip. She also made a face and sighed. “Listen, I’ve been thinking…”

“About the beauty of the Adirondacks in spring?” Matt asked hopefully, and Annie shook her head with a rueful laugh. Matt had been prodding her for weeks to commit to a hiking and camping trip.

“Matt, how many times do I have to tell you that I can’t go? I have a thirteen-year-old daughter and I can’t just—”

“I know,” Matt interjected, raising a placating hand. “She’s going through a very difficult period in her life called adolescence and you absolutely cannot leave her without maternal supervision until she is married with several grown children of her own.”

“Matt…”

He heaved a frustrated sigh. “I know,” he repeated. “You’re sorry.”

Annie smiled. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been thinking, too,” Matt said, leaning toward her. “Why not bring her along?”

“Bring Sally?”

“It’ll get her out of the city and away from those friends of hers that you don’t like. The fresh mountain air and sunshine would do her a world of good.”

Annie’s beeper chirped and she reached automatically to silence it, checking the extension. ER. She groaned wearily. “Let me guess. Knife wound to the abdomen inflicted by a drug dealer upon a possessive pimp who tried to talk down the price of a gram of crack for one of his girls.” Annie pushed to her feet and eased a cramp in the small of her back. She smiled down at Matt. “Be seeing you around, pal, and thanks for the coffee.”

“Ask Sally,” Matt pleaded as she swiftly departed. “I betcha she’d love to go on a camping trip.” She waved a hand at his words as she pushed through the cafeteria doors but didn’t look back.

THE SIGHT OF BLOOD didn’t bother her and never had, but Annie sometimes felt as though she should be wearing a full biologic suit when she dealt with some of the shady members of the knife-and-gun club that routinely passed through the ER on a Saturday night. The man she now confronted was being restrained by two uniformed policemen. Male, mid-twenties, black eyes burning with fear and hatred. Blood spurted from his upper thigh while two gloved medics tried vainly to staunch the flow. “We can’t get him to hold still,” one of them tersely stated the obvious, his face beaded with sweat and dark with frustration. Blood was everywhere. “Gunshot wound. Looks like it’s nicked the femoral.”

Annie pulled on gloves and protective glasses and leaned into the youth’s face. She spoke three terse sentences in fluent Spanish, and the struggling instantly ceased. The cops looked at her in amazement as the medics quickly secured the pressure bandage. “What did you say to him?” one of them asked.

Annie smiled grimly. “I told him that if he didn’t hold still I might accidentally cut off his cojones because I was extremely inexperienced and the bullet hole was in a very ticklish spot.” She waved her hand. “Let’s get him down to Number Two operating room. They’re still fixing the overheads in One.”

The bullet wound was just the first in a string of injuries typical on a Saturday night. Somewhere between declaring the victim of a single car accident dead on arrival and monitoring the condition of an infant admitted with severe flu symptoms, Annie fielded a call from her ex-husband. “Hello, Annie,” Dr. Ryan Crawford said from some five hundred miles north in Bangor, Maine. “Sorry to bother you at work but I haven’t had much luck reaching you at home, either, thanks to your hostile housekeeper. You busy?”

“It’s pretty quiet now but that won’t last for long, so hurry up and state your case.”

“Still the same old Annie,” Ryan said dryly. “It’s about our daughter. I’d like her to spend the summer here, or at least part of it. Did she tell you?”

“She mentioned it,” Annie said stiffly, turning her back on the nurse’s station. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. She’s going through a very difficult time…”

“I know. Adolescence. Been there.”

“Not as a young girl you haven’t.”

“Annie, why do you feel so threatened by my wanting to have Sally visit? Trudy and I would love to have her, and she told me she wants to come.”

Trudy. Annie’s grip tightened on the receiver. Three months after their divorce was finalized, Ryan had tied the knot with Trudy, a medical transcriptionist from his office. It was Annie who had asked for the divorce, citing irreconcilable differences that had nothing at all to do with another woman, or so she thought. Ryan’s obvious involvement with Trudy had surprised the hell out of her.

“Hasn’t Trudy got enough to think about with the baby? It’s due pretty soon, isn’t it?”

“Seven more weeks. And in case you’re interested, it’s a boy. Trudy wanted to know ahead of time so we could get the nursery ready. If Sally came up she’d be here for the birth. She’d get to meet her brother on day one. She’d be a part of it all, and Adam would be a part of her life.”

“Adam?”

“Trudy named him. Adam Beckwith Crawford.”

“Beautiful.”

“Oh, come off it, Annie, don’t be so bitter. Let Sally come. It’ll be good for her. She’ll love our place. It’s on the outskirts of the city, big yard with trees, big garden, an easy drive to the ocean. It’ll be a good break from New York. All kids need fresh air and sunshine, even if some doctors don’t. And face it, Annie. You’re so busy you’re hardly ever around for her.”

Annie’s beeper chirped again. She checked the extension as she silenced it. ER again. “Gotta go.” She hung up the phone abruptly and hurried down the corridor. He had a hell of a nerve saying something like that to her. Even if some doctors don’t.

“Don’t what?” one of the ER nurses asked as she burst through the doors. Annie felt the blood rush into her face. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. She dove into her next case with grim determination. Baby girl. Four months old. Severely dehydrated from a combination of vomiting and diarrhea. Damn the man. Even if some doctors don’t…never around for Sally… What did he know about being a parent, the two-timing bastard? He’d done precious little parenting with his first child.

She read the thermometer with a fierce scowl and shook her head. Well, he was about to get a second chance at fatherhood. She hoped A.B.C. was a colicky baby and that Trudy made Ryan get out of bed at least half of the time to take care of him. And that Adam Beckwith Crawford gave his parents a tough time with adolescence. Been there. Honestly, the nerve of the man.

She admitted the baby for overnight observation, and while she wrote up the orders for fluid and electrolyte therapy, she reflected on her daughter. Not a bad kid. Mouthy at times, and increasingly distracted and pressured by a chaotic world, but in spite of what her Ryan thought, Annie considered herself a good mother. Almost every morning she and Sally had breakfast together, discussed schoolwork, current events, boys, homework and future plans and dreams. Sally could talk to her about anything, though lately the girl had been too busy hanging out with her friends to talk much at all.

So why, Annie wondered with a strong twinge of anxiety, did Sally want to spend the summer in Maine? Did she really miss her father so much that she’d forsake the cute—Tom Somebody-or-other—boy she’d recently discovered, for the entire summer? Or was she unhappy living with her mother? And the real crux of the matter—if she went to visit her father in Bangor, and if he made life indescribably wonderful for her, would she want to come back?

“Dr. Crawford? Phone call.” The head nurse interrupted Annie’s dark thoughts and she glanced up from the clipboard, startled. She handed the orders to the nurse with a nod of thanks and took the call at the station.

“Crawford, here,” she said abruptly.

“Dr. Crawford, this is Lieutenant Macpherson of the Twenty-third Precinct,” a man’s deep voice said. “We’re holding your daughter here at the station. She’s fine, but she was picked up about an hour ago with a carload of teenagers found to be in possession of about half an ounce of marijuana.”

Annie heard the words spoken, but for a few long moments they didn’t register. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed in a haughty voice, “but you must be mistaken. My daughter’s home in bed.”

There was a polite pause. “You may want to come down to the station,” the calm voice suggested. “I could give you directions…”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding the police station, Lieutenant,” Annie snapped, “but I’m certain that won’t be necessary. I’ll call my housekeeper and she’ll verify that my daughter is in bed. Asleep.” Without waiting for a response, Annie hung up, then picked up the receiver and dialed home.

The phone rang five times before Ana Lise answered, her Copenhagen accent heavy with sleep. “Ana Lise, is Sally home?”

“Ja, of course she is.” Ana Lise sounded understandably bewildered by the question. “She is in bed, Doctor. It is after midnight.”

“Could you please check?”

Moments later the housekeeper returned to the phone. Her voice was no longer puzzled or sleepy. “Doctor, Sally is gone!” she exclaimed. “She is nowhere in the apartment, but…she was here, I fixed her supper, she did her homework at the kitchen table, watched TV for an hour, went to bed at ten just as she always does. But now I do not understand this. She is gone!”

“Damnation,” Annie said, and hung up. Trepidation made her breathless. She picked up the receiver and dialed Matt’s number. His voice, too, was thick with sleep. “Matt? I’m so sorry to wake you but I have to ask you an enormous favor…”

Thirty minutes later Matt was at the hospital to cover for her, bleary-eyed and disgruntled. “You owe me a camping trip,” he said gruffly when she tried to thank him. In her gratitude she nodded in agreement. “You got it,” she promised.

She took a cab to the police station. It was close to 3:00 a.m. and the precinct was nearly as busy as the ER. After asking at the main desk, she was directed to the juvenile holding area where several young people were bastioned in a small room under the supervision of the juvenile officer. Her daughter was among them, looking pale, scared, and so very young. She was talking to a man whom Annie herself would have crossed a busy street to avoid—an unshaved vagrant dressed in throw-away clothes and sporting long, unkempt hair. He had one hand braced against the wall, the other on his hip, and his body was curved in a lazy slouch as he listened, head down, while Sally talked. What on earth could Sally be discussing with a bum like that?

Annie felt a surge of outrage as she marched up to the officer seated at the desk and pointed in disbelief. “Would you mind telling me why that degenerate is talking to my daughter?” she blurted angrily. “He shouldn’t even be in the same room with her! I see his kind in the ER all the time, shot up and cut up, costing the taxpayers big bucks for us to patch their holes so they can go back out on the streets and sell their drugs to young innocent kids like…like these.” Annie gestured to the young occupants, thinking to herself that her daughter was undoubtedly the only innocent among them.

The uniformed officer sat quietly through her angry outburst, then raised one hand in a calming gesture. “That degenerate is Lieutenant Macpherson, the arresting officer.” The cop reached for some papers and pushed them across the desk toward her. “I assume you’re here to sign for your daughter’s release?”

Annie flushed at his words. She could feel the band of pain tightening in her temples as she crossed the room and regarded both her daughter and the man she’d been talking to. “I understand you’re the…the officer who arrested my daughter,” she said to Lieutenant Macpherson who had straightened out of his slouch at her approach. Up close she could see his hair was a dark tawny color and his eyes were pale. Blue or gray, she couldn’t quite tell, but they were clear, keen, intelligent eyes.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’d like to speak with you in private, if I may, before you take your daughter home.”

“I’m sure there’s been some mistake,” Annie said. “Sally doesn’t belong in here.”

“Oh, but she does,” Macpherson contradicted in a maddeningly mild voice. “She was in a vehicle full of kids smoking pot. I just happened to be working a stakeout when they stopped to ask me where they could buy some more.” He shrugged. “Guess I look like the type that would know. I brought them in. They’re a lot safer here than they were in that part of town.”

Annie stared at him, her face burning and her heart beating loudly in her ears. She turned to Sally. “Is that true?”

Sally kept her eyes fixed on the floor. “Yes,” she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

Annie stared at the other kids. Five of them, all older than Sally. Two girls, three boys. One of the boys was perilously close to manhood, and when he glanced at Sally, Annie frowned. “Are you Tom?” she asked. At his sullen nod, her blood pressure climbed another notch. “Sally, you told me that Tom was your age and that he was on the honor role.” Aspirin. She needed a handful of aspirin…and a stiff drink.

“Dr. Crawford,” Macpherson said, shoulders rounding as he shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “It’s important that I speak with you privately.”

Annie followed him reluctantly into the corridor, where he paused near the water fountain. He was tall, she noticed, having to look up to meet his eyes, and well built. “Once you sign for her release, you can take Sally home. She’ll need to be present at a court hearing, and the juvenile officer will explain that to you.” He hesitated for a moment. “We’d also like her to sign an agreement stating that she’ll have no further contact with Tom Ward. That boy’s only seventeen years old but his police record spans four years and includes shoplifting, vandalism and drug trafficking on school grounds.” Annie’s blood pressure soared to new heights at his words.

“Because this is Sally’s first offense,” Macpherson continued, “we’re recommending that she attend a ten-hour program held at her school for two hours every Tuesday evening. It’s called Jump Start and its purpose is to deter young people from getting into any more trouble.”

“I can assure you Sally will never step foot in a precinct house again,” Annie said grimly.

Macpherson nodded. “Probably not. She seems like a good kid and she’s pretty shaken up right now, but this program will make her understand the repercussions of bad behavior.”

“All right,” Annie agreed.

“I talked to Sally for a little while because she obviously didn’t belong with the rest of those kids. Her biggest fear right now is that you’ll be so mad you won’t let her visit her father this summer.”

“She told you that?”

Macpherson nodded. Annie’s stomach churned and her head pounded. She drew a deep, even breath. “Well, she’s right,” she said.

“I think that would be a mistake,” Macpherson said.

“Really.” Annie had to resist the urge to slap his arrogant, unshaved face.

“From what she told me, she misses him a great deal. Maybe I’m speaking out of place, but I have a daughter, too, Dr. Crawford. She lives with her mother in Los Angeles. I talk to her on the phone as often as I can, but it isn’t the same as being there.”

“Then might I suggest you move to California, Lieutenant,” Annie said. “That’s what any caring father would do.” She turned her back on him and returned to the room where Sally waited with the other teenagers. “You,” she said coolly to her daughter after signing all the appropriate release forms, “are under house arrest.” She paused. “For the rest of your life.”

They rode home in silence. There was nothing that Annie could say to bridge the awful void. Her thoughts were a chaos of conflicting emotions. Sally was unhurt. It could have turned out much worse. But how had she snuck out of the apartment past the night watchman? How could Ana Lise have let this happen?

Four in the morning and Ana Lise was waiting for them. She had made coffee, and the smell of it bolstered Annie’s flagging spirits. Ana Lise made rich, marvelous coffee. She took the offered cup and motioned Sally into the living room. “Sit,” she said wearily. “We need to talk.” She sank onto the couch while Sally perched uneasily on the edge of a chair. “How did you get out of the apartment?”

Sally’s eyes dropped. “I climbed into the dumbwaiter.”

“You climbed into the dumbwaiter,” Annie repeated woodenly. “You had prearranged plans to meet Tom and his friends and go out joyriding on a Saturday night to smoke some dope and get high.”

“Mom…”

“Sally, you’re just thirteen years old.”

“So what? I’m not a baby,” Sally said, becoming sullen.

“Then why are you acting like one?” Annie rose from the couch and paced across the room, clutching her half-empty coffee cup. Gray hairs, she thought. Millions of them. I’m well on my way to total gray and damn close to being forty years old… “Where did you meet those kids, and how long have you been hanging around with them?”

“Tom’s Melanie’s brother. He’s really nice…”

“Nice? Is that how you describe a guy who lures you out in the middle of the night and gets you arrested? A guy who has a four-year police record that includes selling drugs on school property? How can I ever trust you again? How can I ever leave here and not wonder where you are when 2:00 a.m. rolls around?”

“It’s not Tom’s fault. He didn’t do all those things they said.”

“No, of course not. Tell me something. Has he told you about the birds and the bees yet? Has he told you that girls can’t get pregnant the first time they have sex? That if he can’t have sex with you he’ll find someone else who really cares about him?”

Sally’s body language became increasingly defiant. “It’s not like that.”

Annie’s eyes lasered her daughter’s. “It had better not be. I don’t want you seeing him ever again.” She turned her back on her daughter and paced to the window. Looked out onto the blaze of lights that stretched out forever. Big city. Enormous city. City that never slept. She sipped coffee to steady her nerves. “Your father called tonight,” she said when she could speak calmly.

“Dad?” Sally’s voice was a poignant mixture of remorse and hope. “Does he know about this? Did you tell him?”

“He called before I knew myself.” Annie turned to face her daughter. “He told me that he wants you to spend some time with him this summer. Trudy’s going to have the baby soon, and he thought it would be good for you to be there for the birth, so you could get to know your brother right from the start.”

Sally’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “He said that?” she said, her face working.

Annie’s heart turned over. She felt breathless and turned away, wandering to the cherry highboy beside the fireplace. She trailed her fingers across the satiny finish of the old heirloom and finished her coffee. “Do you want to go?” she asked.

“I miss Dad,” she said simply.

Annie nodded. The highboy was a beautiful piece, her great-grandmother’s. It had begun its life in Cotswold, had been shipped to Australia for two generation’s worth of family history and then had come to America when Annie had married. One day it would be Sally’s. Annie pictured her mother’s kind and patient face, so very far away from her now, and her eyes stung. “Someday you’ll have children of your own,” she said softly, turning to face her daughter. “And that, young lady, will be my revenge. Now go to bed.”

Annie should have returned to work but she didn’t. She phoned Matt, who told her not to bother. Everything was quiet at the hospital and only one hour remained of her shift. “Remember, you owe me that camping trip,” he reminded her before hanging up. She sat out on the balcony and sipped another cup of coffee while Ana Lise worked through her guilt in the kitchen by baking. She brought Annie a big piece of apple strudel, fresh from the oven, and hovered over her.

“I am so sorry about all of this, madam,” she said. Ana Lise had never called her “madam” before and it startled Annie, who raised her eyebrows at her housekeeper in surprise.

“Oh, Ana Lise. Go back to bed. It’s not your fault. But from now on I think we should put a lockout on the dumbwaiter after 6:00 p.m.”

“Ja, ja.” Ana Lise nodded vigorously, relieved. “I think so, too.”

Annie watched the sun rise over the city, heard the burgeoning swell of noise gather faintly and then grow until the peace was gone, obliterated by swarms of cars, buses, trucks and people. Millions of people, all going somewhere, doing something. Alive and living for the moment…

She sighed. The camping trip with Matt suddenly appealed very strongly. She was a country girl at heart, having grown up on a big sheep station that her father managed. Her father had been a great man and a great leader of men. Quite a shock it had been to a lot of people when he had died in the Outback soon after Annie’s seventeenth birthday. He hadn’t come in one day from riding the fence line, that endless wire fence erected to deter the dingoes, the wild dogs of Australia, from the sheep. They had sent search parties out that night and more the following morning. More than a hundred men had searched for three days, but he was dead when they found him, he and his horse, both.

They found the horse first, just three miles from the fence line. Broken leg. Shot. Searchers reconstructed the scenario. The horse had spooked and thrown John Gorley, then bolted three miles before the fall that fractured its cannon bone. Gorley had followed the horse, eventually finding and destroying it. He had been hurt himself in the fall, worse than he would probably have admitted, because John Gorley was not a man to admit to any sort of weakness.

Knowing where he was, he’d cut due south to intersect the fence line near the Boranga station, but had died two miles shy of his destination. The autopsy had proved his grit. Big John Gorley had walked over fifteen miles in two days of relentless heat with no food, one pint of water, a broken arm, six broken ribs and a ruptured spleen.

The Outback had killed her father, yet it had nurtured him, too. Annie had not forgotten the harsh beauty of it, the smell and the taste and the feel and the sound of it. She was born in Australia and the land of her birth was in her blood. Sally had never seen the land down under, nor had she expressed any desire to, but that might change as she matured and became more curious about her roots. About her grandmother who lived in Melbourne now and her uncles, two of whom worked at Boranga and the third who had stayed on at Dad’s station.

“Daddy,” Annie said softly, marveling at how unreal his death still seemed, how impossibly remote the idea that she would never see him again or hear his deep, humor-filled voice or feel the intense glow of pride his words of praise could evoke in her.

Sally said she missed her father, and why wouldn’t she? Though he called her once a week, she rarely saw him. Perhaps she should spend some time with him this summer. It would be good for the both of them to get to know each other better, and it would get Sally away from those awful kids. That alone was enough to make Annie reconsider Ryan’s proposal.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU PROMISED ME, Annie,” Matt reminded her two weeks later to the day. They were standing to one side of the door to X-ray. “I trust you’ve been packing your gear.”

Annie sighed. “I know I promised, but I can’t go right away, Matt,” she said. “Sally’s hearing is first thing Monday morning and…” She shook her head, still unable to believe she was talking about her child. “I can’t just up and leave her, Matt. I was thinking that maybe we should wait until she goes to visit her father, and even then I may not be able to get a whole week off. I’ll ask, but there’s only an outside chance. You know how Edelstein is. He hates for anyone to have a life apart from the hospital.” She gazed at Matt, then reached for his arm and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “Come on, Matt. I said I’d go, I just can’t promise you an entire week, that’s all. We’ll have to make the best of what we can get, and in the meantime, I’ll go to court with Sally.” An unexpected laugh erupted before she could quell it.

“I don’t know how you can find the situation funny.”

“It’s not funny at all. It just sounds so strange to my ears… It’s awful, it really is…” She sighed wearily and shook her head. “My daughter would never smoke pot or hang out with a seventeen-year-old juvenile delinquent named Tom or get arrested for possession of an illegal substance. Know what I mean?”

“I hope she’s learned her lesson.”

“Me, too. She’s been going to these special meetings on Tuesday nights that are guaranteed to put her on the straight and narrow and she seems to be taking it very seriously, which is good because I’m having a hard time with all this stuff. Court hearings, for heaven’s sake. All I can picture is Sally being hauled away in handcuffs by that scruffy cop, Lieutenant Macpherson. He could easily pass for a derelict. I understand it’s part of his job to look like the very people he’s trying to arrest, but still…”

“I take it he’s not one of your favorites?” Matt said sympathetically.

“He arrested my daughter, didn’t he?” Annie shot over her shoulder as she pushed through the doors to X-ray.

ANNIE’S SATURDAY NIGHT in ER began with a blistering flurry of activity that only intensified as the early hours of the morning brought a rising tide of traumatic injuries. By 3:00 a.m. she was up to her elbows in other people’s crises, which in a way was a blessing because she had no time to dwell on the Monday morning hearing. She was actually beginning to look forward to the camping trip with Matt, and also beginning to entertain the notion of getting out of the city once and for all. Perhaps it was time for that long-yearned-for return to the country, to a quiet, backwater place where Sally could make new friends and discover sunshine and fresh air.

“Dr. Crawford?” Rob Bellows, a surgical resident, entered the treatment room and spoke at her elbow. “I’ll take over for you here. We’ve got another incoming. Gunshot wound to the chest, EMT’s report it’s pretty dicey.”

“They’re all pretty dicey,” Annie said wearily, stepping back from the table where the victim of a car accident, young and drunk, submitted docilely to having a gash on his forehead stitched. She stripped off her gloves and threw them in the waste container as she walked out. She could already hear the muted sound of the ambulance siren as it swung into the emergency entrance. Then the siren cut off and she could picture the ambulance backing up to the door. She stopped at the nurse’s station and grabbed a fast drink of cool spring water and then a second as the emergency doors automatically opened and they wheeled the next patient in.

“Round three,” Annie muttered under her breath as the running footsteps squeaked toward her down the polished floor. She fell into step beside the stretcher, visibly assessing the victim. The EMTs were brisk, professional and slightly out of breath. “Had a hell of a time with this one…cops said it could be a .38 caliber bullet…entry wound is on his lower left chest, no exit wound, the patient’s in shock, definitely a tension pnuemo, we nearly lost him on the way in…”

There was a generous amount of blood on the victim, but Annie guessed from the EMT’s brief rundown that most of the hemorrhaging was internal and that a lung had collapsed. They wheeled him, half running, into the ER, where the skilled team quickly began cutting away the injured man’s clothing, allowing Annie to make a rapid but careful examination. A scene that might have paralyzed a less experienced physician, she dealt with perfunctorily and with minimal talk. Within minutes she had established an airway and positioned a chest tube between his ribs, while at the same time the nurses, at her direction, placed two IVs in his arms and began infusing a bag of Ringer’s solution as fast as possible. While Annie inserted a nasogastric tube to decompress the stomach, the nurses drew blood samples, placed a catheter and activated electronic monitors. All of their actions were so well orchestrated that scarcely five minutes had passed since the patient had been wheeled into ER.

Annie guided a large bore needle between the ribs just beneath the collarbone and, just as she had expected, pressurized air hissed out. “Okay, people,” she said, “this one goes straight into OR. There’s some serious abdominal bleeding going on, a collapsed lung and God only knows what else. We have a definite chest wound, but this guy’s stomach is swelling up like a hot-air balloon. I think that bullet did some bouncing around inside there.”

She picked up the phone and dialed OR. “Hey, Hanley, we’re coming down with a gunshot wound to the left chest, in shock, definitely looks like multiple organ trauma.” As she spoke, she glanced at the victim’s face. There was something familiar about the guy. She drew in a deep breath as she heard Hanley say something about a kid with a hot appendix. “Bump him,” she snapped. “This one can’t wait.”

She hung up the phone. “Who is this guy?” she asked the surgical resident, who shook his head and shrugged, but the nurse picked up the chart left behind by the EMTs.

“Macpherson,” the nurse said, scanning it quickly. “Lieutenant Jake Macpherson.” Her eyebrows raised in surprise, and she glanced at Annie. “He’s a cop.”

“Okay, let’s rock and roll, folks,” Annie said, her heart rate shifting into high gear as adrenaline surged through her. “He’s going to be a dead cop if we don’t hustle.”

FOR BREAKFAST on Sunday morning Sally always had cereal and toast and a big glass of orange juice. Her mother usually was home by 8:00 or 9:00 a.m. and Ana Lise would cook the traditional Sunday-morning breakfast of ham and eggs, but Sally was happy with her bowl of cereal. She was addicted to Cheerios. If there was a banana to slice onto it she was in heaven—except this morning. She had her Cheerios and an entire banana sliced atop, but she was about as far from heaven as she could get. She sat in the breakfast nook and watched Ana Lise bustle around the gleaming kitchen, taking a pan of pastries from the oven.

“You will have a pastry then, ja?” she asked over her shoulder.

Sally shook her head.

“No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Ana Lise set the pan on the counter and turned, frowning. “You would not like a pastry with butter spread over it? A cinnamon bun warm from the oven? Are you ill, then?”

Sally used the tip of her spoon to submerge the slices of banana one by one. She shook her head again. “I’m too nervous to eat,” she confided miserably. “Tomorrow’s my hearing…”

“Ja, but that is tomorrow. This is today. You must eat.”

“Ana Lise, what if they put me in jail?”

“They will not put you in jail. You are only a child.”

“What if they send me to juvenile hall?”

Ana Lise shook her head in exasperation. “We have talked of this before. They will not send you to juvenile hall.”

“Mom might send me to private school. She might make me move away.”

“That would never happen,” Ana Lise said, hands on her sturdy hips. “You eat your cereal.”

“Do you think she’ll let me visit my dad this summer?”

Ana Lise turned back to her tasks with a shake of her head. “I am not paid to tell your fortune, young lady. Eat your breakfast. Your mother will be home soon and you can ask her yourself.”

But Annie did not get home until nearly noontime, and Ana Lise had switched from breakfast mode to dinner mode, it being a Sunday. A roast was baking in the oven and she was verbally contemplating a Yorkshire pudding when Annie slumped wearily into the apartment. She dropped into a kitchen chair with a soft moan. “What a night,” she said. “And what a morning.”

“A hard one, ja?” Ana Lise said sympathetically, pouring a cup of coffee and setting it, strong and black, in front of Annie.

“Hard? Oh, Ana Lise.” Annie let her head fall back and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Where’s Sally?”

“In her room listening to her music. She’s worried about tomorrow. About the hearing. She didn’t eat any breakfast and she says she is too nervous to eat lunch.”

They heard the door to Sally’s room open and her light, quick footsteps in the hall. “Mom? I thought I heard your voice.” Sally paused in the kitchen doorway, her face mirroring her mother’s, though for entirely different reasons. “Mom, I’m so nervous about tomorrow that I feel sick.”

Annie opened her eyes and inhaled another deep breath, releasing it somewhere between a sigh and a moan. “There isn’t going to be a hearing tomorrow, Sally,” she said. She raised and rotated her shoulders to ease a sudden muscle cramp. There was nothing like a long stint in surgery to trigger painful muscle spasms. “Your arresting officer was shot last night. I spent most of the night and the better part of this morning trying to keep him alive.”

Sally’s face was blank. For a moment she said nothing, just stood in the kitchen doorway and stared at her mother. “Is he…dead?” she finally blurted.

Annie raised her eyebrows. “A fine question to ask. Don’t you have any faith in your mother’s skills?”

Sally slumped against the doorjamb. “Then…he’s still going to testify against me in court?”

“Not tomorrow, he isn’t,” Annie said flatly. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “I spoke to the big cheese at the station house. He was at the hospital, along with half a hundred other police officers. He told me the hearing would be rescheduled when Lieutenant Macpherson’s health permits. So, sweet little best friend of mine, it would seem that you have been granted a temporary reprieve.”

Sally’s eyes fixed gravely on her mother’s face. “For how long?”

Annie took another sip of coffee. “He’s young and strong. I expect an uncomplicated recovery. Let’s say three weeks, four at the outside. By then he’ll be able to sit in a courtroom and tell the whole world how you were out gallivanting around in the middle of the night with a bunch of pot-smoking juvenile delinquents.”

“But I wasn’t smoking pot…”

“Don’t expect much sympathy from me right now, young lady. I’m dead tired.”

Ana Lise refilled Annie’s coffee cup. “What you need right now is a long soak in a hot bath, ja? I know how that helps you after you’ve spent a long time in surgery. I will get it ready.”

Annie smiled wearily at her housekeeper. “That sounds lovely. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Half an hour later she was immersed to her chin in deliciously hot water and lavender oil. Her eyes were blissfully closed and she was nearly asleep, her mind drifting toward that quiet, peaceful place where the wind blew all the clouds away and the horses ran free, when Ana Lise tapped on the bathroom door.

“A call for you, from the hospital,” she called apologetically.

Annie moaned. “Take a message.”

“He says it is an emergency.”

“Okay,” Annie said. The bathroom door opened and Ana Lise’s arm stretched around with the cordless phone in her hand. Annie took it. “Thank you,” she said as the door closed. “Yes?” she said into the phone. It was Matt.

“I’m sorry to call you, Annie, I know you just left here, but your patient, Macpherson, went into cardiac arrest about ten minutes ago. We jump-started him, but he’s not too stable. Blood pressure’s 90/70.”

Annie was rising out of the tub even as Matt spoke. “Where’s Palazola?” she asked tersely. “Isn’t he senior surgeon on call?”

“He’s in OR with a little boy who was run over by a bus.”

“What about Macpherson’s heart sounds? Are they muffled?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit! He was fine when I left. Okay, I’m on my way. We’ll need to aspirate the blood around the heart. Can you do it?”

“I can try.” Matt’s voice mirrored his uncertainty. “How soon can you be here?”

“Ten minutes.”

“I’d rather wait for you…”

“If you have to do it, Matt, do it,” Annie said, throwing the phone onto the vanity and reaching for a towel. “Ana Lise, call my driving service!” she shouted out the bathroom door. Fifteen minutes later, hair still dripping, she was running down the hallway to the Intensive Care Unit. Matt was inside the cubicle watching the monitors and two nurses were with him. Annie listened to Macpherson’s heart and noted the distention of his neck veins. “People, he should already be in the OR,” she snapped, her nerves on edge. “I trust you’ve cleared it?”

Matt’s face flushed. “We’re good to go.”

Aspirating the blood from around the heart was not a long procedure, but Annie blamed herself for not anticipating the complication. She had checked for cardiac tamponade several times since Macpherson had been admitted, both before, during and after the surgery. At no time did she discern a problem. Still… She exited the OR for the second time that day in a haze of exhaustion, stripping off her gloves and mask and tossing them into the disposal unit.

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Matt said, hurrying out behind her. “I should’ve spotted the warning signs sooner.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” Annie said. “I’ll check on him when they bring him into recovery. If anything changes, I’ll be in the lounge.”

“Annie.” She stopped and turned. Matt was holding his arms out at his sides in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

Annie shook her head wearily. “Just come and get me if there’s any deterioration in his condition. He can’t die on me, Matt. That just can’t happen. They’d think I did something deliberately so he couldn’t testify against my daughter.”

“No one would ever think that.”

Annie didn’t answer.

“Get some rest. If there’s the slightest change in his condition, I’ll wake you.”

But in spite of her exhaustion, Annie couldn’t sleep. The hospital, at three o’clock in the afternoon, was bustling with life. Intercoms squawked nonstop, carts rattled, rubber-soled shoes squeaked, voices of patients, staff and visitors mingled in the corridors. She lay on the couch in the doctor’s lounge, her forearm shielding her eyes, and tried to relax. Her stomach cramped painfully, reminding her she hadn’t eaten for nearly twenty-four hours, yet she wasn’t hungry.

She sat up and yawned. Within minutes she was in recovery, checking on Macpherson. His vital signs were good. She pulled a chair up beside his bed and sat. Matt came in quietly to adjust the IVs and returned moments later with a fresh, hot cup of coffee and a magazine for Annie. She took both with a grateful smile. The coffee was good and the magazine was a copy of Down East, a monthly publication full of beautiful pictures and articles about coastal Maine.

She sipped the coffee and turned the pages of the magazine, finding herself drawn to the evocative images of a world far removed from big-city life. How long she sat there, immersed in the mystique of rocky, timbered coastline, saltwater farms and quaint harbors filled with sturdy lobster boats, she didn’t know. But her coffee was cold and her yawns had become more frequent when a man’s voice said, “Beautiful place.”

She looked up, startled to see that Macpherson had awakened. She blinked, set aside the magazine and the coffee. She checked his vital signs, relieved that they were all as good as could be expected. The cadence of his heartbeat remained clear and strong.

“My grandparents used to have a camp in Maine,” he said as she straightened, easing a cramp in the small of her back.

“Don’t talk, Lieutenant. You’re in recovery and you’re doing just fine, but you need to keep quiet.”

She accompanied the orderlies when they rolled Macpherson back to ICU and saw that he was hooked up into the myriad of monitors again. “The police are everywhere,” she told him as she made a few notes on his chart. “The waiting room is jammed full of them.” She thought it strange that there was no significant other wringing her hands among all the badges. Surely there was a woman in his life? And what about his parents? Brothers and sisters?

“My parents sold the camp when my grandparents died,” he said, still groggy from the effects of the anesthesia. “Beautiful log cabin…”

“Lieutenant Macpherson?” Annie bent over him. “Is there anyone I can call for you? Family members, close friends?”

“Those guys in the waiting room,” he said. “Only family I have.”

“I see. Well, you won’t be able to have any visitors today. Tomorrow, perhaps.” Annie paused. “And, Lieutenant, this might not be the best time to apologize, but I’m sorry I was so rude to you the night you arrested my daughter.”

A vague frown furrowed his brow at her words, then cleared. “Bear clawed the door once, trying to get in. Big bear.”

Annie sighed. He was still pretty dopey. “Lieutenant, no more talking. I’ve taped the call button right beside your hand. Can you feel it? Good. If you need anything at all, just push that button. The nurses will keep a close eye on you, and Dr. Brink will be checking in regularly. I’ll be nearby, just down the hall.” Annie took one last critical look at Macpherson before turning to leave, but his voice stopped her as she reached the door.

“The cabin was on a pretty little pond…”

“Lieutenant, please try to get some rest.”

She turned away once again, and once again his voice halted her in her tracks. “Don’t forget your magazine, Doc,” he said. When she left Intensive Care Unit, the glossy periodical was tucked beneath her arm.

JAKE MACPHERSON was moved into a private room after three days in ICU. Time resumed its old dimensions and began to weigh heavily upon him. His visitors came and went in a steady stream, men and women from the department, the obligatory brotherhood of the badge. Some of them were friends, others he barely recognized, more than a few he didn’t know at all. All of them came bearing get-well wishes and awkward demeanors. None of them enjoyed being in hospitals because they feared that one day, they, too, might wind up in an adjustable hospital bed with bloody tubes bristling from their bodies.

Or worse, in the hospital’s morgue.

The one bright spot that moved in and out of his life was Dr. Annie Crawford, but he saw her less and less frequently as his condition improved and the regular doctors took over. And so he spent the long hours of the endless days replaying the sequence of events that had landed him in this hospital bed. Damning himself, over and over, for his carelessness. Berating himself for not listening to the skinny hooker when she’d said to Joey Mendoza, little drug runner extraordinaire, “I won’t let him arrest you, Joey, I’ll shoot him first.” A hollow threat. Surely she didn’t have a gun, and even if she did, no one would shoot a cop for Joey Mendoza.

But surprise, surprise, when he’d started to cuff Joey, she’d pulled this tiny pistol out of her purse. He’d had time to defend himself. He’d seen her move, seen the little pistol in her hand, and was pulling his own gun even as he pushed Joey away from him, out of the line of fire. He could have shot her but didn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger on a woman.

And so he lay on his back in the hospital bed, hour after hour, counting the tiny holes in the acoustic ceiling tiles, finding geometric patterns in random chaos, endlessly defining the perimeters of his life and waiting for the early mornings when Annie Crawford would walk into his room at the end of her shift, give him one of her quizzical little smiles and say, “Hey, Lieutenant. How are you feeling?”

Whenever she came he tried to engage her in conversation about her daughter. About her life. About the hospital. About the weather. About the dog-eared Down East magazine she’d been reading. About the camp his grandparents had owned. Anything to extend her visit. Eventually she showed him a classified ad in the real estate section, an old saltwater farm for rent for the summer in a place called Blue Harbor. “It’s a wild, crazy dream, spending a summer in Maine,” she admitted. “But, oh, so tempting.”

He advised her to call the listing Realtor. “Live dangerously,” he said. “Take the summer off and be wild.”

She’d laughed at the absurdity of such a notion, but the next time she came into his room she confessed that she’d called about the rental. “It’s still available and sounds wonderful, but there’s just no way I can take the whole summer off, and they won’t rent it by the week.” Still, she was thinking about it, he could tell. She was thinking about it enough that he called the Realtor himself, remembering the name from the ad she’d shown him. An elderly sounding man answered. “I’m wondering if you carry any summer rentals in the Blue Harbor area,” Jake began.

“Sure do. What exactly are you looking for, and in what price range?”

Jake told him, and after a brief pause the voice said politely, “I’m afraid you won’t find anything that cheap in this area. The closest thing I have listed in your price range is a very primitive camp about twenty miles inland.” Twenty miles wasn’t that far to drive to see a woman like Annie Crawford. He logged the information, thanked the Realtor, and hung up.

Annie’s visits became less and less frequent. She was always busy, whisking in and out, cheerful but impersonal, shining—like the sun—on all things equally. Nonetheless, he was secretly smitten with her, and he supposed that just about every red-blooded man she met fell under the same spell. How could they help themselves? Annie Crawford was smart, warm, compassionate and highly skilled in a very challenging profession. As if those attributes weren’t enough, her eyes were a shade of marine blue that made him think of some exotic tropical paradise. Her hair was a thick, glossy mahogany, shoulder-length and pulled back in a simple twist. Annie and her daughter looked enough alike to pass as sisters, but Sally didn’t have her mother’s Australian accent or the bone-deep beauty that only spiritual maturity could give a woman—and Annie Crawford was a deeply beautiful woman.

CHAPTER THREE

ON THE AFTERNOON of his fifth day in the hospital, a little girl walked into Jake’s room. She had pale blond hair plaited in two braids and large, dark eyes. She was wearing denim coveralls and a red-and-black plaid shirt. The sight of her rendered him momentarily speechless. He half believed she was an illusion his mind had created to while away the endless hours.

“Amanda?” He pushed himself onto his elbows, afraid she would disappear, but instead she approached the bed cautiously.

“Daddy?”

“C’mere, Pinch. Don’t mind all this medical stuff. Come give your daddy a big hug.” He reached out for her, and she was very real. She smelled sweet, her cheek was warm and smooth against his, and her chubby arms felt marvelous as they tightened around his neck. He tightened his own arms around her. “Amanda,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Ah, my sweet baby girl.”

“Hello, Jake.” His ex-wife stood just inside the doorway, hands clasped loosely in front of her. She wore a white silk blouse, black trousers, a sage-colored linen jacket. Her hair fell in dark glossy curls upon her shoulders and she wore minimal makeup with a touch of lip gloss. She looked fresh-faced, young and beautiful. If she’d gone through the same hell as he had during and after their divorce, it certainly didn’t show.

“Hello, Linda,” he said, reluctantly relinquishing his embrace. Amanda squirmed out of his arms and climbed on the bed beside him, as endearingly affectionate as a puppy.

“Amanda, be careful,” her mother warned.

“It’s all right,” Jake said. “She can’t hurt anything. Thanks for bringing her.”

Linda nodded. “She’s your daughter. She has a right to see you.”

“It’s a long way for you to come. I appreciate it. I’ll pay for your plane tickets.”

Linda shook her head. “Your captain made all the arrangements. A police car picked us up at the airport and delivered us to the hotel and another car brought us here.”

Jake thought about this for a moment. “They must have thought I was going to die,” he said.

“From what I’ve just been told, you almost did.” Linda’s fingers were intertwined tightly. He could tell what a strain it was on her, just being in the same room with him.

“I had a good doctor,” he said.

“Yes, I know. I met her at the nurses’ station. She was the one who directed us to your room. Dr. Crawford, isn’t it? She seems very nice.”

Amanda tucked herself up against him, her little fingers tugging at his bandage. He took her hand in his as a sharp bolt of pain made him catch his breath. “Whoa, you with the quick fingers. Now’s not the time to be pinching your dad.”

“Get off the bed, Amanda,” Linda ordered, frowning.

“No, really. She’s fine.”

“What happened to you, Daddy?” Amanda asked. “Why are you all wrapped up?”

“I got hurt, honey, but I’m going to be okay. What about you? How’s my little Pinch? Still tearing up the house? How’s school?”

“Miss Markham’s very mean,” Amanda said gravely. “She made me stand in the corner.”

“What for? You didn’t pinch anyone, did you?”

“I pulled Jenny Flagg’s hair. Jenny said I didn’t have a father. So I told her I did, and I pulled her hair, and then Miss Markham made me stand in the corner.”

Jake pulled his daughter back into his arms. “You do have a father, Pinch. You have a father who loves you very much. Your teacher had no business making you stand in the corner. You’re my shining angel, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Amanda said.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and don’t you ever forget it. I’m going to call that Miss Markham and tell her a thing or two.”

“Jake,” Linda cautioned with a disapproving look.

At that moment Annie entered the room, brisk and businesslike in a white lab coat with stethoscope draped around her neck. Jake tweaked one of Amanda’s braids. “Amanda Macpherson, meet Annie Crawford, best doctor east of the Mississippi, and west of it, too. Pretty good, huh?”

“Pretty good,” Amanda agreed. She smiled shyly at Annie, and Annie smiled back.

“Hello, Miss Amanda,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you. You look very much like your father, but I suppose lots of people tell you that. I’ll let you in on a little secret, young lady. Your father’s doing so well that I think we’re going to have to sign him out of here pretty quick. We’re going to need this room for someone who’s really sick.”

“Can he come home with us?” Amanda asked with the frank directness of a child.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, he needs to stay here for a little longer. But you can visit him as much as you like.”

Amanda stared for a moment at Annie, then shifted her gaze to her mother. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy come home with us? He’s sick and he needs us to look after him.”

Linda’s face was pale and her hands were clenched tightly together. “Amanda, your father’s tired. We’d better let him rest. We can come back tomorrow morning.”

Amanda squirmed to face him. “Are you tired, Daddy? Do you want us to go?”

Jake tugged his daughter close for one last embrace. “You’d better do what your mother says,” he said. “But come see me tomorrow, Pinch. First thing. Promise?”

“I promise, Daddy.” Amanda’s eyes filled with tears. “I want you to come home with us,” she wept as Linda came forward and lifted her off the bed. “We could make you better. Don’t you love us anymore, Daddy? Why won’t you come back home?”

Linda refused to meet Jake’s eyes. She carried Amanda, still crying, out of the room and down the corridor. Jake watched them go and then dropped his head into his hands with a moan of pain that had nothing to do with his injury. He took a deep, shaky breath and expelled it just as slowly. “She’s five years old and Linda and I have been divorced for one year and two months.”

He pressed the heels of his hands to his burning eyes then lifted his head to look at Annie. “I’ve seen Amanda twice since then. The court awarded Linda full custody. Do you know why?” When Annie shook her head, he uttered a bitter laugh. “Neither do I. I have visitation rights, though. I can see her every weekend, for eight hours a day. And that would be a wonderful thing except that Linda decided to move to Los Angeles to pursue her acting career.

“I thought she’d eventually come back east, but her career took off and the only thing left for me to do is to go out there. I’ve sent applications to every police department within a hundred-mile radius, but so far, no strong bites.” He gazed out the window at the city skyline. “You know, getting shot isn’t much fun, but I’d go through it all again just to see Amanda. It’s not fair. I’m her father and I should be a part of her life.”

ANNIE CRAWFORD sat in the hospital cafeteria drinking a lukewarm cup of coffee. She couldn’t purge Lieutenant Macpherson’s heartbroken visage from her mind. What if Ryan had fought for and won sole custody of Sally? What would she have done?

Macpherson seemed like such a nice man. From his chart she knew that he was the same age she was, and in the conversations she’d had with him over the past week she’d discovered that he was the only child of an astronomer and a concert pianist who’d decided on parenting somewhat late in their careers. Jake’s father had died several years ago of a heart attack and his mother was nearly eighty years old, in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s. She played piano for the other residents, but no longer recognized her son.

“Dr. Crawford?” Annie glanced up, surprised to see Macpherson’s ex-wife standing across from her. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.” Annie looked around. “Where’s Amanda?”

“We went out for lunch after we left Jake,” Linda explained. “Amanda wouldn’t stop crying, so I’m letting her visit her father again before we go back to the hotel. She was so upset…” Linda’s eyes dropped, but not before Annie saw the bright shine of tears.

“He’s going to be all right,” Annie reassured her. Linda nodded, fumbling in her handbag for a Kleenex.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes and attempting a shaky smile. “I’m not crying because I’m worried about Jake. I know he’s going to be fine. It’s Amanda. I feel as though I’m being cruel to her, and I suppose in a way I am. I just don’t know how to make it better.”

Annie nodded sympathetically. “It’s obvious that they miss each other a great deal.”

Linda wiped her eyes again and took a slow breath. “The divorce was nasty. We both said things we shouldn’t have. Hateful things. I couldn’t have stayed here. This town wasn’t big enough for the two of us, and there were better opportunities for me on the west coast. I never gave much thought to what was best for Amanda, but she really misses her father.”

“Yes.” Annie felt a twinge of guilt as she spoke. Sally missed her father, too.

“The thing is, I’ve been offered the leading role in a movie that’s being filmed in Europe this summer. I was going to bring Amanda along for the filming, but the director’s afraid she might be too much of a distraction.” Linda lifted her shoulders in a gesture of confusion. “I was planning to ask Jake if he’d like to take her for the summer, but now that he’s been injured, I’m not so sure. Do you think he’d be able to take care of her?”

“Yes, I do. Lieutenant Macpherson’s as strong as a horse. He’ll probably be out of here in a few days and I don’t foresee any problems with his recovery. He could certainly take care of a five-year-old girl. It would be a wonderful opportunity for them to spend some time together, and it would give you time to concentrate on your acting job.”

Linda’s expression was hopeful. “I’d have to ask him about it…”

“How about right now? I could take Amanda for a tour of the hospital if you’d like some privacy.”

“Would you do that?”

“Of course. Summer’s right around the corner, and you need to solidify your plans.”

An hour later Annie delivered Amanda back to Macpherson’s room and caught the happy gleam in his eye. Obviously everything had worked out. Jake would share the summer with his daughter.

Annie wondered if her own plans for the coming summer would fare as well.

MR. EDELSTEIN was removing his eyeglasses and massaging his closed eyes when Annie was ushered into his office two days later. It was after 9:00 p.m., late for him to still be at the hospital. He gestured to the comfortable chair opposite his desk, but she shook her head. “I received a letter from the captain at Macpherson’s precinct,” he said, replacing his eyeglasses and making a halfhearted attempt to locate the letter in the jumble of paperwork atop his desk. “It was mostly about what a miracle worker you were, saving the lieutenant’s life. I meant to give it to you but I seem to have misplaced it…”

“Mr. Edelstein, I won’t beat about the bush,” Annie interrupted before she could lose her nerve. “The reason I wanted to see you is that on June twelfth I’m leaving here to take my daughter to Maine for the summer to visit with her father, and I thought it would be nice to take some time off myself.”

Edelstein gave off the search for the letter with an exasperated shake of his head. “Can’t find it, but when I do I’ll pass it along. How much time?”

“I was thinking of taking a three-month leave of absence.”

Edelstein leaned forward at his desk, staring at her over the rim of his glasses. His laugh was an incredulous bark. “Well you can stop thinking about that right now. I can spare you for a week, maybe two at the most. You know how hospitals are. They don’t run well without doctors.”

“Mr. Edelstein, I haven’t taken any vacation time in over three years.”

“I’m aware of that, and I’m sure you’ve been more than compensated for your dedication. Please understand. I’m not telling you you can’t take a vacation, only that you can’t take the entire summer off.”

Annie felt a flush of anger warm her cheeks. “Three months of unpaid leave is all I’m asking for, sir, no less than what we routinely grant for maternity leave.”

Edelstein stood. “If you weren’t as valuable a member of this hospital’s staff, maybe I could grant it. But there’s no one to replace you.”

“There are six fully competent trauma surgeons practicing at this hospital, Mr. Edelstein. The ER doesn’t revolve around me.”

“Grant’s the only one who comes close to your level of expertise, and he’s going to be lecturing at Stamford. I’m sorry, Dr. Crawford, but I really can’t let you go.”

Annie nodded, her hands clenching inside her lab coat pockets. “I was afraid you’d say something like that,” she said. “I’ve come prepared with my resignation.” She stepped forward and laid the envelope on top of the mountain of paperwork. “I’m giving you four weeks’ notice. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out. I hope you’ll come to understand that this was something I really had to do.”

Edelstein’s mouth dropped open. “I won’t allow you to resign,” he blustered. “I won’t accept it.”

“You have no choice. I’ve given my best efforts to this hospital for over twelve years, but I have my own life to live and right now I need some time to think things through.”

“Dr. Crawford, be reasonable. Sit down and let’s talk about this,” Edelstein said, but his plea was in vain. Annie turned on her heel and without another word departed Edelstein’s office, closing the door firmly and hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

“YOU’RE PULLING MY LEG, right?” Matt Brink’s face was as shocked as Edelstein’s had been. “This is some kind of sick joke, something you thought up just to get out of our camping trip.”

“I assure you it’s quite real,” Annie said, still dazed by the sudden transformation from employed to unemployed. “I’ve been thinking about it a great deal lately, ever since Sally was arrested. I need some time off. I’ve also decided to spend the summer somewhere close to Sally, so we can still spend time together. I mean, three months is a long time not to see your daughter. But predictably, Edelstein wouldn’t grant me the unpaid leave, so I resigned.”

“Why don’t you stay for a week or two and then come back? Sally’ll be perfectly safe with her father. Annie, think about what you’re doing,” Matt pleaded. “You’re throwing away years of work. You’re at the peak of your career, the top of the ladder.”

“Not any more. I threw myself off and I’m starting all over again. And you know what? I feel great. Oh, Matt, I feel young again. I feel alive!”

Matt Brink slumped against the ER’s concrete wall. “This can’t be happening.”

Annie brandished the magazine she held rolled up in one hand. “I’m renting a house on a point of land overlooking the water in a place called Blue Harbor, which isn’t too far from Bangor, where Sally’s father lives. Listen to the description of this place.” She opened the magazine to the ads in the back of the well-thumbed magazine, but Matt turned away, raising his hands to his ears.

“I don’t want to hear it. You can’t do this. Not only is it crazy, but you’re welshing on your promise to go camping.”

“Oh, Matt, don’t be ridiculous. Take a week off and come up for a visit. You’ll have a great time.”

He dropped his hands and looked at her. “You’re asking me to visit you for an entire week?”

She smiled. “This house has four bedrooms, all with ocean views. It comes with a boathouse, a boat and its own private dock. Can you imagine such a luxury? I can hardly wait to see it.”

THAT NIGHT she visited Macpherson’s room for the final time. It was late, but he was awake, reading a Clive Cussler novel. He laid it down when she came into the room and propped himself up on his elbows.

“We’re kicking you out of here tomorrow,” she said with a rueful smile.

“No offense intended, but I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “Though I’ll miss seeing you.”

Annie walked to the foot of his bed. She’d come to like Lieutenant Macpherson very much during his short stay. She admired him greatly for not dying on her, and she enjoyed his laid-back, easygoing attitude and the long conversations they’d had. Since his admittance, he’d been shaving daily and, of his own volition, he’d had his long hair trimmed quite short. He looked virile and handsome. It was hospital policy for the staff to keep a professional distance from the patients, but there was no denying that had she met Jake in a context other than the hospital or the police precinct where Sally’d been arrested, their relationship might have been very different.

“No offense taken,” she said. “I don’t blame you a bit for wanting to get out of here. I expect you’ll take some time off.”

“I’m thinking of taking all the sick leave and vacation time I have coming to me, especially since I’ll have Amanda for the summer while Linda’s in Paris. Speaking of the summer, rumor has it you’ve resigned your post and rented a saltwater farm in a place called Blue Harbor.”

“If there’s one thing this hospital never lacks for, it’s a lively rumor mill.”

He grinned that brash, handsome grin she’d come to like very much. “Gotta love gossip. Keeps things interesting. When are you leaving?”

Annie felt her cheeks warm and dropped her eyes, pretending to study his chart. “I’m bringing Sally to Bangor after school lets out. I’m hoping her court appearance will be scheduled before we leave, but if not, rest assured I’ll bring her back for it.”

“Sally’s not being summoned,” he said in a puzzled voice. “Didn’t you get the letter?”

Annie glanced up. “She doesn’t have to go to court?”

Macpherson shook his head. “The judge decided that because it was Sarah’s first misdemeanor, ten hours of community service in addition to attending the Jump Start program was adequate punishment.” At Annie’s skeptical look, he hitched himself higher in the bed. “The judge likes me,” he explained. “I helped his daughter out once.”

Annie’s breath left her in a soundless sigh. She stared at the man on the bed in astonished silence, then said in a dazed voice, very softly, “Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you very much.” She paused at the door and turned back. “I won’t be here when you’re discharged tomorrow morning, so I’ll say goodbye to you now.”

That brash grin returned. “Oh, there’s no need for goodbyes, Dr. Crawford,” he said. “I expect we’ll be seeing each other again sooner than you think.”

“I certainly hope not,” Annie said. “I should think you’d want to avoid guns and bullets for a while.”

“I fully intend to,” he replied, “but all those talks we had about Maine brought back good memories of my grandparents’ camp. Seemed like a good idea to find a cabin like the one they owned, and it just so happened that the only rental I could afford isn’t more than twenty miles from yours. Inland, of course. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Annie gathered her startled wits and laughed. “Actually, I doubt that it is, Lieutenant, but I hope you and Amanda have a good time there this summer. And, thanks. I owe you big-time for Sally.”

Annie was halfway down the corridor, still smiling, when it occurred to her that she didn’t mind in the least the prospect of running into Lieutenant Macpherson somewhere along the rocky coast of Maine. In fact, she hoped she did. No doubt about it, a handsome good-natured man like Jake, a couple of steamed Maine lobsters and a nice bottle of wine suited her right down to the ground.

CHAPER FOUR

NEITHER ANNIE NOR SALLY had ever visited Maine before. Whenever Ryan wanted to spend time with his daughter, he simply flew to the city, using the opportunity to touch base with all his old friends and colleagues, as well. Although Sally had complained about having to leave the city and didn’t say an awful lot on the long ride up, preferring to keep her headphones on and listen to her CDs, Annie was sure the girl was excited. She felt the excitement herself when they crossed into Maine. It was as if they’d embarked on a rare adventure.

Ryan’s house was on the outskirts of Bangor, a modern ranch with attached garage and a lawn that looked as obsessively manicured as any golf course. Trudy was watering a circular flower garden in the middle of the lawn it when they arrived. She looked very pregnant. Annie hadn’t seen her since before the divorce and couldn’t help smiling as she noted how much weight Trudy had gained. Perhaps it was all attributable to the pregnancy, but Annie doubted that Trudy would ever return to her young and nubile sexiness. Trudy was seventeen years her junior, so Annie felt her satisfaction was completely justified.

Ryan was at the clinic, for which Annie was grateful. She helped unload Sally’s bags and carry them to the house, and stayed just long enough to give Trudy the phone number and address of the house she was renting in Blue Harbor. Sally trailed her back out to the car, scowling.

“You’re not going to dump me here when Dad’s not even home.”

“Honey, he’ll be back in an hour or so. Trudy could probably use some help in the garden after you unpack your things and get settled in. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll call you tonight.”

Sally glanced back at the house and then lowered her voice. “Can we go back home if this doesn’t work out?”

Annie gave her daughter a parting hug. “I bet you and your dad are going to have a grand old time. And you can always come and spend some time with me if you like.”

Trudy came out of the house and walked down to the car. She laid a hand on Sally’s shoulder and to Annie’s grateful surprise she said, “Your father’s coming home early today. He wants you to help him pick out a golden retriever puppy. Think you can do that?”

An hour later Annie was cruising along Route 1, entering the village of Steuben. The driving was slower than she expected and she amended the travel time between Blue Harbor and Bangor by an additional forty minutes. The drive was lovely, the afternoon sunny and cool, and the air that gusted through the open window was clean, salty and delicious.

Blue Harbor was like a place out of the past. Annie felt the tranquility flowing into her as she drove slowly through the coastal New England village. She found the Realtor’s office with no problem and met the agent who’d arranged the house rental. His name was Jim Hinkley and he was a spry, lean, seventy-nine years of age with piercing blue eyes and a lively interest in just about everything.

“I hope you like the old place,” he said, grabbing the key out of his desk drawer. “It’s one of my all-time favorite saltwater farms. I’ve known Lily Houghton, the owner, since she was a young girl. Used to court her back in high school, when she was still a Curtis. We were sweethearts for a time, but then she took a shine to that fancy-talkin’ Ruel Houghton.

“The only good thing Ruel ever gave her was his grandparents’ house, and Lily loved it. She was an artist, you see. She made a studio out of the old boathouse and did her painting there. She was good, too. Made quite a name for herself. It broke her heart when her son put her into the nursing home this spring, but he thought staying out there all by herself after she fell and broke her hip was just too risky.” He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll take you out to the old place. It’s a ten-minute drive, just follow me and you won’t get turned around.”

The farm lay at the end of a mile-long dirt road on a high point of land overlooking the Atlantic. They passed through a gate at the entrance of the drive and Jim unlocked it. “It’s all Houghton land from here on in, all five hundred acres of it. Prime for development and worth a fortune, but Lily would never sell. Of course, now that she’s in that nursing home, I don’t know what her son will do. I’m not sure Lily has any say. I guess she gave Lester power of attorney. She hates developers, though. I do know that. They’ve been after this peninsula since Ruel died, and she’s refused to sell even the littlest piece of it.”

The first half mile of road wound through tall pine woods that gave way abruptly to a bright, greening sweep of field. Massive stone walls ran along both sides of the road, protectively enclosing an orchard on one side, rolling pasture on the other. Annie tried hard to take it all in but her senses were overwhelmed. The blue sky, the green pasture laced with wildflowers bending in the sea breeze, the gnarly old apple trees, some still blossoming, the great drifts of lupine blowing blue, purple and pink along the stone walls, the sharp ping of gravel against the undercarriage of the Explorer, all served to heighten her keen sense of anticipation as she craned for her first glimpse of the farmhouse.

She was not disappointed when at last it came into view. The stalwart boat-roofed Cape Cod was connected to a long, rambling ell, which was connected to a big old ark of a barn in a perfect example of classic New England architecture. All the buildings, including the barn, were painted white. The house and its attached string of outbuildings were oriented east to west, as most old farmhouses were, to take advantage of the sun. It was also positioned on the point of land so that it faced the magnificent harbor views to the south.

Unkempt but vigorous flower gardens flanking the south side of the house and the ell were a riotous bloom of color. Annie parked beside Jim’s car and joined him on the porch while he fished in his pocket for the key. “Wow,” she said, holding her hair away from her face in the stiff breeze and gazing out across the sparkling harbor.

“The view’s great, but if you recall, I warned you that the house was rustic,” Jim said, turning the key in the lock.

Annie drank in the spectacular scenery a few moments longer before following Jim inside. He paused for a moment to let her appreciate the kitchen. There was big cast-iron combination wood-and-gas cookstove with warming ovens above and a water jacket on the left hand side, a deep soapstone sink big enough to float a small boat, and a pitcher pump mounted to the counter beside it. The wide pumpkin-pine floorboards, the deep-silled windows with their plain cotton-tab curtains, the old farm table flanked by six sturdy chairs, the wall cupboard with its old blue paint and the kerosene lamps in their wall sconces completed the country feel of the room.

“Rustic,” Jim repeated as if bracing for some negative reaction. “I warned you.”

“It’s lovely,” Annie said with a smile. “I grew up in a house without electricity, and as far as I can tell it didn’t hurt me a bit.”

Jim cast a surprised glance at her. “England?” he said.

“Australia. A sheep station in the Outback, and I adored every moment of it. I suppose there’s a backhouse here. A loo.”

Jim laughed, relaxing. “Two, actually. One in the woodshed, the other in the barn. But Lily had a conventional bathroom installed at her son’s insistence. Flush toilet, shower, tub, sink. There’s a diesel generator in the woodshed that powers all the modern extravagances. Come on, I’ll show you.”

The tour continued, and the more she saw, the more Annie fell in love with the old homestead. Memories of her childhood home in Australia came flooding back, the sounds of children thundering down the back stairs into the kitchen, the squeak and clank of the hand pump as her mother drew water at the kitchen sink, the tang of wood smoke from the stove, the soft glow of oil lamps in the evening and the smell of good food cooking.

The entire farmhouse had a warm, friendly feel. The bedrooms were wallpapered in old-fashioned prints, the curtains were plain cotton muslin hung on wooden dowels and the floors were covered with handmade rugs of braided wool. The place was simple and clean, and Annie couldn’t believe her good fortune in being able to rent it for the summer. “Mrs. Houghton must have hated to leave here,” she said softly as Jim showed her what had been Lily’s bedroom, the queen four-poster angled so that she could prop herself up against the headboard and gaze out at the harbor as the sun rose on a Maine morning.

“Lily always hoped that she could live out her life here.”

There was a phone in the back hallway off the pantry. “It works,” Jim said as she lifted the receiver, “but no guarantees. The line just sort of lies on the ground and runs through tree branches for over a mile. Lily never wanted electricity in here, but her son insisted on a phone. Lester means well, but he can be overbearing at times. Still, he was right about the phone. Lily used it to call for help when she fell and broke her hip.”

“Where does Lester live?”

“Oh, he’s a hotshot lawyer. Went to Bowdoin College on a scholarship and took a position with one of those big Boston law firms. Makes a ton of money. Married a woman who doesn’t like Maine, so Lester doesn’t come north much. He wants to move Lily to a nursing home down near him, but she’s having none of it. Said if she couldn’t die at her farm, the very least she could do is die in Maine.”

“How sad.”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Strange, how things turn out. If she’d married me, she’d never have gone into that nursing home. But then again, she wouldn’t have had this place, either. Hard to know which would’ve made Lily happier in the long run…” Jim shrugged philosophically. “Now, about groceries…”

“I shopped in Bangor after dropping my daughter off at her father’s,” Annie said.

“Well, there’s a good store right here in town if you forgot anything. The refrigerator and stove in the kitchen run on gas. I’ll arrange for monthly propane deliveries, if you like.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“There are lots of staples in the pantry. Things like spices and sugar and flour. Some canned goods. Lily loved to cook. You’re welcome to use anything in the cupboards.”

“Thank you.”

“Well then, I guess you’re on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Jim. And thank you so much for the tour.”

“I’ll leave my card by the phone, just in case. My home number’s on it, too. If you need anything, just give me a ring. And I’ll leave you the key to the gate. I don’t think there’ll be many busybodies driving down, but it’s summertime, after all, lots of tourists cruising about, so if you want to lock it…”

“Thank you, Jim. You can leave it open.”

She stood on the porch that spanned the south side of the ell and listened until the sound of his vehicle was drowned out by the steady rumble of the wind in the stunted pines that stood at the peninsula’s edge. The sun was hovering just above the horizon and the colors of sunset painted the granite outcroppings and the sparkling Atlantic waters.

Annie retrieved several grocery bags from the Explorer and found the one with the bottle of Australian pinot noir. She opened it, poured herself a glass and carried it outside, following the overgrown path through the grass that led toward the water. After a roundabout descending journey she came upon the boathouse, sturdily bolted to a projection of granite.

The boathouse was locked, its windows tightly shuttered, so she sat on the edge of the walkway that ran alongside it. She sipped her wine and watched the waves roll against the pier, rhythmically raising and lowering great fluxing beards of seaweed that clung to the sides of the old stones. She watched the seagulls hover in the stiff breeze and the plovers explore the tidal pools along the rocky shoreline.

For a long time she sat there, feeling the briny wind pushing cool and strong against her. Suddenly, for no reason she could have explained, she began to weep. She wept until she was exhausted, then she blew her nose, wiped her eyes, let her head tip back against the old silvery dock post, inhaled a deep, shaky breath—and smiled.

JAKE MACPHERSON used the full weight of his body in an attempt to open the unlocked but badly jammed door of the cabin after several manly kicks with his booted foot had failed. Amanda watched in silence. One heave did nothing at all to budge the door. In the movies, the door always gave on the second heave, but Jake reconsidered as he rubbed his offended shoulder and took several tentative breaths around the dull ache in his chest. It would be unwise to aggravate his wound. He never, ever, wanted to see the interior of a hospital again.

“The door’s stuck,” he reported to Amanda in case she hadn’t noticed.

His daughter nodded somberly.

The sun sank lower, the woods grew darker around them and the logs of the cabin looked solid, stoic and impenetrable. He began to doubt the wisdom of renting a place that hadn’t been used for more than three years. The Realtor had offered to drive out and open it up for them, but Jake had declined. After seeing how old Jim Hinkley was, it seemed too much to ask that he drive twenty miles just to unlock and show them a simple little cabin. So Jim had drawn them a map, given them the keys and wished them well. “Oh, one thing,” Hinkley had cautioned before they’d embarked. “If any repairs need be made, you’ll have to do them yourself or hire the job out, and the owners’ll deduct the repair bills from the rent. They’re too old to handle that stuff themselves.”

“Well, what do you think?” Jake asked Amanda. “Should I give it another try?”

Another somber nod. His stomach tightened. She was counting on him. He’d better make good. He picked up a two-by-six that someone had tucked beneath the cabin and used it to tap the edges of the door, hoping that would be enough. But it wasn’t. He took a breath, raised the two-by-six again and struck the door in the places that appeared to be bound tight. He put more muscle into it, and in the end was using the timber as a battering ram. When the door finally gave, it burst abruptly inward, spilling him into the dark interior with an undignified bellow. He tripped on something and landed in a face-down sprawl.

In the startled silence that followed, he heard small musical sounds behind him. Amanda, giggling behind her hands. He rolled onto his back and glared up at her. “What’s so funny, Pinch?”

“You, Daddy,” she said, convulsed in mirth.

He sat up and took stock. Not much to see through the light of the door. Two bunks against the far wall. Small gas stove on the left, along with a short run of countertop and a sink. Woodstove dead center, stovepipe rising straight up. Table and two chairs to the right of the door; squeezed in between them and the stove, nearly spanning the length of the little cabin, the promised canoe.

The first thing he did was haul the canoe outside and leave it beneath the big pines at the edge of the pond. Then he rummaged in the toolbox in the back of his truck, found a hammer and pried open the shutters while Amanda explored the cabin’s interior. “Daddy?” she asked as he worked on the last shutter. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Jake nodded toward a little structure behind the cabin. “Out back, Pinch.” He fastened the shutters back with the eye hooks and was putting the hammer away when he heard Amanda scream in fright.

“Daddy!” She had opened the outhouse door and recoiled in horror. He came up beside her and peered inside. “Spiders,” she pointed. “Big ones.”

He stared. “You’re right, Pinch, they’re huge.”

“I have to pee,” she whimpered.

“Not in here. Not until we evict these giants. C’mon. Let’s go find a handy tree.”

He took her hand and inhaled a deep breath of the woodsy air. It had been a long time. Too long. His daughter should have spent time in the outdoors the way he had as a boy. He’d been lucky. His parents were older, but they’d loved the woods and had brought him often to his grandparents’ camp. They’d taught him to appreciate the cry of the loons at dusk, the splash of a moose ambling along the shoreline, the deep authoritative hoot of a great horned owl in the midst of a moonlit night. They’d shown him how to paddle a canoe, how to tie the proper fly onto the proper weight leader, how to release a brook trout unharmed into the dark cold waters from which it came.

He needed to teach these things to Amanda. Instead he’d forgotten it all. It had been years since he’d last visited Maine. Maine. The name rolled off his tongue, sounding solid and big and just a little bit wild. It sounded like a place of tall trees, rugged mountains and rocky coastline. It sounded good.

How had he ever wound up in a place like New York City? He’d been so in love. Linda had been so beautiful, so in control, so sure of her future. Sophisticated and sharp, and so very kind to take any interest in a blue-collar boy such as himself.

He’d met her at a U-Maine party in Orono. She’d been visiting one of her friends, a girl in Jake’s physics class. They’d been introduced and the next thing he’d known he’d transferred to NYU just to be near her. While she’d studied acting at Juliard, he’d gotten his degree in political science and then picked up another degree in criminal justice, figuring that a cop could always get a job in New York City.

Linda had started making commercials, he’d walked a foot patrol and written parking tickets. They’d moved in together, a tiny studio apartment in Brooklyn. She’d won a small but steady role in a soap opera, he’d gotten his own patrol car. They’d married. When she’d landed her first movie role, he’d been working as a plainclothes detective, Amanda had been two years old and things had been looking good. But Hollywood changed Linda; the long separations had been difficult. By the time he’d made lieutenant, Linda had been nominated for an Oscar for best supporting actress in one of the most popular films of the year and their marriage was on the rocks.

Amanda was the one bright light that remained. Spending the summer with her was a gift beyond price. This place wasn’t quite as grand as his grandparents’ camp, but the important thing was that they were together. After Amanda had found the proper tree, which took some time because she wasn’t all that excited about the idea, Jake looked around the yard. “Well, Pinch, we’ve got our work cut out for us. This old cabin needs some tender loving care.”

“I’m hungry,” Amanda said.

“Me, too. That hamburger wore off a long time ago. Let’s get the truck unloaded and I’ll cook you something you won’t believe, it’ll be so good.”

“Can I watch?”

“You can supervise.”

Unfortunately, there was no propane in the tank outside the cabin, and Jake hadn’t thought to bring a jug of kerosene for the empty lamps. It was growing dark. He was about to suggest that they beat a hasty retreat to the nearest town for the night when he heard the cry of a loon wavering across the pond.

“Daddy,” Amanda breathed in awe, her hand reaching out for his. “What was that?”

“That’s a loon, Pinch. Sounds kind of crazy, doesn’t it? They can sound sad, too.”

“It’s scary,” she said.

“C’mon. Walk down to the dock with me and let’s listen for a while.” She stepped cautiously beside him and they stood on the thick cedar planking. The cry came again, long and mournful. “It’s definitely lonely this time.”

“What’s that splashing noise?” she whispered, pressing against him.

“Trout rising to a hatch of insects. See the ripples when one comes to the surface?”

Hard to see anything in the thick gloaming. A branch snapped in the woods nearby and he felt Amanda shiver. “Daddy?”

“Probably a moose coming down to the pond to drink. Sometimes they wade right out into the water and put their heads under to eat pond lily roots and grasses. We’ll see lots of moose while we’re here.”

“Are they big?” she whispered.

“As big as horses, with longer legs.”

“Daddy, I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of. Let’s go back inside. I bet I can cook us some toasted cheese sandwiches on the woodstove. It’s getting kind of cool, and a little fire will warm the chill off the cabin. I think there are some candles, too. We’ll light a few and it’ll be real cozy, just like camping out.”

ANNIE CALLED her ex-husband that night. Ryan answered the phone himself and his voice was weary. “Sally’s fine, Annie. She picked out a cute puppy today, and between the two of them they’ve worn me out. Trudy’s been having some bad back pains and I’m a little worried about her, but she doesn’t want to call her doctor…” He rambled on distractedly for a few more minutes and then asked, “So, where are you staying? Sally told us you were renting a farmhouse up the coast.”

She gave him the phone number and address. “I told Sally she could spend some time here if she got lonely for her old mum.”

“Sure. I think it’s a good idea, you spending the summer nearby. It’ll be as good for you as it is for her, getting away from the big city. Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself already.”

“I am, actually. Very much,” she conceded.

“Annie, gotta go. Trudy just came downstairs and she looks pretty wrung out. Talk to you later.” Loud click. Dead line.

Annie replaced the receiver gently and sighed.

The old farmhouse creaked in the night the way old houses do, telling their own stories, and she sat in the kitchen for a while, reading the local paper by the light of the oil lamp. The muted thunder of the waves crashing up against the granite ledge was a constant lulling undercurrent of sound. When she looked out the window down the dark narrow bay, she could see the periodic flash from the Nash Island light. She had opened several of the old double hung windows in the kitchen and the curtains moved gently in a faint night wind. The only outdoor sounds were those of the ocean, of the light breeze through the wind-stunted evergreens that clung tenaciously to the shoreline and the distant clang of a buoy.

A far, far cry from the constant cacophony of human noise generated by a city the size of New York. It was only 9:00 p.m. and Annie thought that maybe she’d make some popcorn and curl up with one of the novels she’d brought to read, but instead she went to bed and slept better than she had in many months.

AMANDA HAD CHOSEN THE TOP bunk and just past midnight let out a shriek that woke Jake from a sound sleep and stopped his heart for a few beats. He sat up, slamming his head into the bottom of her bunk. “Amanda, what is it?” he gasped, holding his head.

“A mouse just ran across my bed,” she said, her voice quavering with fear.

“A mouse? You mean, one of those cute little creatures you were admiring while we ate supper?”

“Yes.” She sounded very close to tears.

“Amanda, that mouse isn’t going to hurt you. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” she said, small-voiced. “I’m afraid it will come back.”

“Are you kidding? The way you just screamed?”

“Daddy, can I come down and sleep with you?”

“It’s a mighty narrow bunk, Pinch.”

“Please, Daddy.”

He wondered what the child experts would say about such business. Amanda was, after all, five years old. Still, she’d put up with a lot in the past twenty-four hours without complaining. She’d even eaten the burnt cheese sandwich outside on the porch while they’d waited for the smoke to clear from the cabin. “Okay,” he relented. “But just for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get a trap for the mice so they won’t bother you anymore, and you can sleep in your own bed.”

Moments later she was snuggled up against him and almost instantly asleep. He lay in contemplative silence, listening to the loons on the pond and wondering about a certain doctor by the name of Annie Crawford. Wondering how long it would be before their paths crossed.

CHAPTER FIVE

ANNIE WOKE to a morning more beautiful than she’d seen in nearly two decades. She sipped her coffee sitting on the porch in an old rocker, nudging the weathered planks with her bare toes to move herself ever so gently back and forth. Watching the sun rise over Dyer Island and the bay, she realized with sudden and poignant clarity that she could stay in this place forever.

Moments later she heard the chugging throb of a boat engine and her attention turned toward the harbor. A lobster boat had passed the point and was nosing its way into the channel, close enough that she could read the name on the stern. Glory B. She was still watching when the boat turned abruptly toward the stone wharf, engine throttling up as it approached, then easing off and slipping into reverse as it pulled alongside. She frowned. Was this normal procedure or could there be something wrong?

The engine cut out as a man jumped onto the pier, rope in hand, and made a quick dally around one of the pilings. Then he started up the long, steep steps, taking them two at a time in gear that could only be described as cumbersome. Annie rose to her feet as the man crossed the intervening space between them. He took big steps, moving with great urgency. What on earth? She was in her nightgown, for heaven’s sake. She crossed her arms in front of herself protectively, still holding the mug of coffee.

Close enough now, she could see that the man was smiling. Coming toward her at a gallop in tall, dark, rubber boots and yellow, waterproof overalls, he was grinning ear-to-ear. He was bare-headed, his hair thinning, gray and wind-tousled. When he got closer his reaction was startling. He skidded to a stop, arms thrown out for balance at first and then lifted shoulder high in a gesture of apology.

“You’re not Lily,” he said from fifty feet away.

“No,” Annie said.

His arms dropped to his sides. “I saw the smoke from the kitchen chimney and thought…” He turned and looked at his boat as if he could wish himself back onto it. “Well, I thought Lily’d come back home.”

“I’m Annie Crawford. I’m renting the place for the summer. I arrived yesterday.”

He glanced back at her. “Joe Storey,” he said. “Welcome to the peninsula. Sorry to bust in on you like this, but good to meet you, all the same.” He paused for an awkward moment before adding, “If you need anything, just do like Lily did and run the white flag up the pole down by the boathouse.”

He turned to go and Annie said, “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

Joe glanced at the rocking chair Annie had been using. “Lily was always watching right there, rain or shine, every morning when we headed out. She’d wave one of her dish towels to us. It was a tradition. Somehow the days aren’t quite the same anymore, with her gone and this old house of hers sitting empty.” His eyes turned back to her. “Well. Got my traps to check.” He turned away again and Annie watched him hurry back toward the wharf steps.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Storey,” Annie called after him. She sat in the rocker and watched until the Glory B dwindled into the distance, wondering about Lily Houghton, and then wondering if Jake Macpherson and his daughter Amanda were in Maine yet. She might have sat there all morning if the phone hadn’t rung. Annie rose from the rocker and went inside to answer it.

“Mom?” Sally’s voice was choked with tears. “Can you come get me?”

“Of course I can, Sally. What’s wrong?”

“Trudy had the baby last night,” Sally blurted, and then sobbed convulsively, causing Annie to clench up tight.

“Sally,” Annie said in a calming voice. “Sally, are you at the house?”

“I’m at the hospital. It all happened so fast, Mom. Trudy’s really sick, and Dad says the baby might not live.” She began to cry again. Annie waited for a moment. “Sally, listen to me. You stay right where you are and I’ll come get you. It’ll take me an hour to get there, maybe a little longer. Okay?”

After a period of sniffs and gulps, she replied, “Okay.”

“I love you, Sally. I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later she was headed for the hospital in Bangor. The first full day of her summer in Maine had begun.

JAKE BURNED THE EGGS the same way he’d burned the cheese sandwich, but Amanda never complained. They ate out on the porch for two reasons. The first was that the cabin was once again filled with smoke. The second was that it was a real pretty place to sit to look out over the pond. He drank his coffee, not burned but not strong the way he preferred it. He hadn’t boiled the water long enough. But if Amanda wasn’t going to complain, neither was he.

“The first thing we need to do this morning is head back into town and get stocked up on supplies. We’d better make a list.”

“A mousetrap,” Amanda said.

“Propane tanks filled.”

“Lights for at night.”

“You didn’t like the candles?”

“Daddy.” She gave him a reproving glance.

“Okay, then. Kerosene for the lamps.”

“Can we get a TV?”

“A television? There’s no electricity here, Pinch. We could get some books. I’ll read to you, you read to me.”

“I don’t read good.”

“Practice makes perfect. What else do we need?”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“Don’t know how I ever forgot that stuff.”

“Soda.”

“No soda. Bad for your teeth.”

“Juice.”

“Juice.” He wrote it on the list. “Milk. Lemonade?”

“Lemonade,” she nodded.

“Window cleaner. You any good at washing windows?”

She frowned. “Are they dirty?”

“Good answer. What about lunch. Hot dogs?”

“Hot dogs.”

Jake made note of the items between bites of burnt egg and charcoal toast, sips of weak coffee and hopes of running into Annie Crawford.

Not a bad beginning to the day, all things considered.

“HE WAS FOUR WEEKS premature and he has a transpositional heart defect that for some reason they didn’t find in the prenatal testing,” Ryan said, as he sat slumped on the waiting room couch, Sally slumbering beside him. His face was haggard and he looked much older than his forty-two years. “But he’s hanging on and they’re trying to stabilize him enough to fly him to Boston Children’s Hospital for surgery in two weeks. They’re trying, but—” His voice broke and he dropped his head into his hands.

“Of course they are,” Annie said.

“I should have known something was wrong,” he said. “I should have brought her to the hospital when she first started having those pains and that terrible swelling. I should have known.”

“Ryan, every woman who bears a child has all kinds of pains and swells up,” Annie said gently. “You should know that. You went through it with me.”

“I do know that. But she was so filled with fluid. I should have insisted they look at her. Her doctor said…”

“Ryan.” Annie reached out and touched his shoulder. “Don’t do this to yourself. Trudy and the baby need you to be strong right now.”

He nodded and wiped at his eyes, blotting tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re a good father and good fathers care. But listen to me. I want you to eat the sandwich I brought you and drink this tea. You have to take care of yourself.” Annie squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll take Sally home with me.”

Ryan nodded and lifted his eyes. “I’ll need to stay at the hospital until…”

“I know.”

“Can you take the puppy, too?”

“Of course.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Annie.”

“No prob.” Annie rumpled his hair the way she used to and then turned and walked out of the waiting room. She couldn’t wait to leave the hospital. The last thing she wanted to do on her summer vacation was to spend time inside a hospital.

“Mom!” Annie stopped her headlong rush down the corridor and waited for Sally to catch up with her. “You weren’t going to leave without me, were you?” she said.

“Of course not. I’m just in a hurry to get going. We have to pick the puppy up at your dad’s. I promised him we’d look after it.”

“Okay,” Sally said. “Nelly’s about the only neat thing about being here.”

Annie reached for her daughter’s hand but Sally moved ahead of her. Suddenly the sunny Maine day wasn’t looking so bright.

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