Danielle Steel - Changes

“Why?”

“I don't know. But it does. I've been hiding since she died. And all of a sudden I'm not sure I want to anymore.” They sat in silence for a long time, and Mel broke the silence first.

“Why don't we just wait and see what happens. Not push anything. Neither of us has risked anything yet. You've made a couple of phone calls, and I'm out here because the President was shot. That's all there is to it for now.” She was trying to reassure herself as much as him, but neither of them was convinced.

“Are you sure that's all there is to it?” His eyes were gentle and she smiled at him.

“No, I'm not. That's the trouble. But maybe if we take it slow, we won't scare ourselves half to death.”

“I hope I don't scare you, Mel. I like you too much to want to frighten you away.”

“I scare myself more than you ever could. I never wanted to get hurt again, or to depend on anyone but myself. I've built a fortress around me, and if I let anyone in, they might destroy what I've built, and it took me so damn long to put it all together.” It was the most honest thing she could have told him, and there were tears in her eyes as he watched her.

“I won't hurt you, Mel, ever, if I can help it. If anything, I would want to take some of that load off your shoulders.”

“I'm not sure I want to give it up.”

“And I'm not sure I'm ready to take it on.”

“That's okay. It's better that way.” She sat back against the seat for one more moment before she had to leave him. “The only thing that's too bad is that we're so far apart. You live here. I live there. We'll never find anything out like this.”

“Maybe we will while you're here.” He sounded hopeful, but she shook her head.

“That's not very likely while I'm working this hard.” But he wasn't willing to be discouraged. Not yet. He needed to find out what he felt for this woman who appealed to him so much. He looked at the big green eyes he had remembered so well. “The last time you were here, you followed me around while I was working. This time let me put myself at your disposal, as much as I can. Maybe we'll find a little spare time to talk.”

“I'd like that. But you see what it's like. I'm working day and night.”

“Let's just see. I'll see if I can ferret you out in the lobby later when I finish surgery and rounds. Maybe we can grab a sandwich.” She liked the idea, but she had no idea if she could get free.

“I'll do what I can to get away. But Peter, you have to understand that I may not be able to.”

“I understand that.” And then for the first time, he reached out and touched her hand. “It's all right, Mel. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.” But maybe she would. They both silently hoped that it wouldn't be too soon.

She smiled at him, enjoying the feel of his hand on hers. “Thanks for the ride to work, Peter.”

“At your service, ma'am.” He slid out and opened the door for her, and a moment later they were swallowed up by the crowd in the lobby. He turned back to glance at her once, but she was already deep in conversation with the other less-important members of the press who had spent the night in the lobby, and the elevator doors closed on him before she saw him again.

The news that Mel got was hopeful. The President was still alive, and half an hour before, a hospital spokesman had told them that there was some improvement in the President's condition.

At eight o'clock the First Lady returned. She was staying at the Bel-Air Hotel, and she was surrounded by Secret Servicemen who forced their way through the lobby. It was impossible to approach her although Mel and a host of others tried. The poor woman looked haggard and wan, and again Mel felt for her. At eight thirty she went on the air to New York, and again at nine for the noon news. All she could tell the nation was that the President was still alive. And she continued gathering bulletins throughout the day, without a moment to think of her own life, or Peter Hallam.

She didn't see him again until three o'clock, when suddenly he appeared beside her, looking impressive in his starched white coat and suddenly there was a surge of press around him. They thought he had arrived to give them news and it was almost impossible to shout above the din and explain that he was there to see a friend purely as a civilian. At last he and Mel escaped to a corner, although several members of the press thought she was getting a scoop on them. And finally in desperation, he pulled off the white coat and shoved it behind a trash can in the lobby.

“Christ, I thought they would maul me.”

“They would, given half a chance. I'm sorry.” She smiled tiredly at him. She had worked for nine hours straight and the only food she'd had was the sandwich he'd given her in the car, although she had drunk gallons of coffee all day.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Can you get away?”

She looked at her watch. “I have to go on in ten minutes for the six o'clock in New York. But I should be able to get free after that.”

“How long do you have to stay?”

“A few more hours. I should be able to leave by six o'clock. I can always come back at eight if I have to, to cover the eleven o'clock in New York. In fact, I probably will have to. But after that, I hope I'm through, unless something new develops.”

He was thinking. “Why don't I leave here now, and come back for you at six o'clock. We can go somewhere quiet for dinner, and I'll get you back here in time for you to do the bulletin for the eleven o'clock news in New York, and right after that I'll take you back to your hotel.”

“I'll probably be a zombie by then, and I may fall asleep in my dinner.”

“I don't mind. I've put people to sleep over dinner before. At least this time I can tell myself there might be an excuse.” He smiled at her, and felt an urge to pull her into his arms.

She smiled too. “I'd like to see you tonight.”

“Good. See you at six then.” He hurried off to his office then, and he returned exactly three hours later. And by then, Mel had dark circles under her eyes, and he could see when she got into his car that she was absolutely exhausted. She looked over at him with a tired smile.

“You know, Peter, any attraction you may have for me right now practically amounts to necrophilia.”

He laughed at the horrifying suggestion and made a face. “That was disgusting.”

“That's how I feel. How was work?”

“Fine. How's the President tonight?” He figured that now she knew more about it than he did. He was too busy with his own patients to worry about anyone else.

“He's holding his own. I'm beginning to think that he'll make it if he's held up for this long. What do you think?”

“I think you may be right.” And then he smiled. “I just hope he doesn't spring to his feet in the morning, so that you have to fly home tomorrow.”

“I don't think there's any danger of that for the moment. Do you?”

“Honestly, no.” He looked pleased and glanced over at her as he drove her to a restaurant nearby.

“How are the kids, by the way?”

“Fine. They know you're here from what they see on the news, but I haven't had time to tell them I've seen you.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

“Why not?” He looked surprised.

“Maybe it would make them nervous. Kids have remarkable antennae. I know mine do. Especially Jess. You can put something over on Val for a while, because she's always so wrapped up in herself. But Jessica almost senses things before they happen.”

“Pam's like that sometimes too. But the boys are different.”

“That's my point. And she has enough to contend with in her life, without worrying about me.”