Danielle Steel - Answered prayers

“Has that happened to you?”

“No, but it has to some people I know. A friend of mine lost his wife four years ago, she was a wonderful woman and he was heartbroken. She died of a brain tumor in six months. And he met the most incredible woman I've ever known. And now he's happy with her. You never know, Fred. You have to believe. It's that thing we talked about… answered prayers … you have to believe that now. You're in for a bumpy stretch of road for a while, and then it'll get better again. Maybe better than you know.”

“I'm glad you came to New York,” Faith said, without answering what he said.

“So am I,” he took her hand across the table and held it tight. “I was worried about you. You sounded terrible for a couple of days.”

“I was terrible. I'm better now. But I guess it'll get nasty for a while. I don't think Alex will play nice.”

“Probably not. Judging by what he's done so far.” And then Brad had a thought. “Do you want a banana split?” It had been her weakness as a kid.

“Now?” She smiled at him. He had been so good to her all day and all night. She felt utterly spoiled and comforted, and loved. It really was like being with Jack. Even better sometimes. “We just ate like pigs.”

“So what? They have great ones at Serendipity. I'll share one with you.”

“It's a good thing you don't live here,” she said, laughing at him. “I'd be as big as a house. Yeah, what the hell. Why not?”

He paid the check and they hopped in a cab, and went to East Sixtieth Street. The place was jammed, it was Saturday night, but they found a small round table for them under a Tiffany lamp, and Brad ordered a banana split and two spoons. It arrived with whipped cream and nuts, and chocolate sauce, and strawberries, three flavors of ice cream, and bananas hanging over the edge of the bowl, and they dove in. Brad couldn't believe how much she ate, particularly considering what she'd already had.

“I'm going to get sick if I don't stop,” she threatened, and then had two more bites. She could never resist a banana split.

“If you're going to get sick on me, then you'd better stop. Friendship only goes so far,” he warned, and they both laughed. It had been fun. They were laughing about stories from when they were kids. He reminded her of when she had played a trick on them and told their girlfriends they were out with other girls. They'd almost killed her when they found out. She'd been mad about something and did it to get even with them. They were fourteen and she'd been twelve. “Why the hell did you do that?” Brad asked with a grin as he paid the check.

“You wouldn't take me bowling with you, so I was mad.”

“Jack got so mad I thought he was going to strangle you.”

“Yeah, me too. That's because he really liked the girl. I don't think you cared that much about yours,” Faith said, looking amused.

“I don't even remember who it was. Do you?”

“Sure. Sherry Hennessy And Jack's was Sally Stein.”

“You have a hell of a memory. I had totally forgotten Sherry Hennessy. She was the first girl I ever kissed.”

“No, she wasn't,” Faith said with a knowing look. “Charlotte Waller was. You were thirteen.”

“Oh, you brat!” he said, suddenly remembering perfectly. “You were spying on me, and you told Jack. I didn't want him to know because he had a crush on her, and I didn't want him to be upset.”

“She told him anyway. She told half the neighborhood.”

“No, she didn't. You did, you little shit.” He had forgotten it, and was laughing as they walked out of Serendipity and up the steps to the street.

“Well, yeah, I helped. But she broadcast it fairly effectively herself. She thought you were a big catch.”

“I was in those days,” he said, pretending to strut.

“You're still pretty cute,” she said, tucking a hand innocently into his arm. “Considering how old you are.”

“Watch that!” he warned, and then suggested they walk to her house, to walk off the banana split. She thought it was a great idea, since they had eaten so much.

“I feel like I'm going to explode.”

“You're the size of a mouse, Fred. It's a shame you never grew.”

“I always thought so too. I hated being short.”

“You look pretty good. For a girl.” It was the kind of thing he used to say to her, when she was a kid. And she felt like one with him tonight, reminiscing about people they had forgotten, and cared about so much when they were young. It was funny to think about them again, and wonder where they went. They had both lost touch with all of them. Particularly Brad when he moved away.

They strolled slowly up Third Avenue, talking about the people they had known as kids, and remembering faces and names that neither of them had thought about in years. They turned west when they reached Seventy-fourth, and a moment later reached her house.

“That was stupid of me to let you stay at the hotel. I should have invited you to stay here. I'm sleeping in Zoe's room. You could have slept in mine.”

“I'm fine where I am,” he said with a yawn. “What time is church tomorrow?”

“We can go whenever you want. They have a lot of masses at St. Pat's, we're bound to catch one. Why don't you come for breakfast?”

“I'll call you when I wake up. Maybe I'll come over around nine, or ten.” She let herself into the house with her key, and it seemed lonely and dark. She turned to Brad with a smile.

“Do you want to come in for a glass of wine?”

“I'll never make it back to the hotel if I do. I'm beat. I'd better get some sleep, and you too.” They were both tired, and full. It had been a nice evening, and her revelation early in the day meant a lot to him. What she had shared with him was an enormous gesture of trust.

“I'm glad you had that meeting to come to,” she said gratefully. The weekends had been hard so far, and would be for a long time.

“Me too,” he said, and gave her a hug. “Sleep tight,” he said, and watched to make sure that she locked the door and turned on the lights once she was inside. And then he walked back to the hotel with a smile. He loved and respected her more than he had any other human being in his life.

18

BRAD CAME TO THE HOUSE, WITH HIS BAGS, AT NINE o'clock, just as Faith got out of the shower. She answered the door in a cashmere robe, and he handed her the Sunday paper as he walked in.

“I'm sorry. Am I too early? I woke up at the crack of dawn.”

“That's fine. I'll be ready in five minutes,” she said as she hurried off.

“I'll start breakfast while you get dressed.” He wandered into the kitchen, as she ran up the stairs in bare feet, with wet hair.

And when she came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, in a turtleneck and jeans, he was clattering and banging, and there was the smell of coffee in the air.

“Boy, that smells good,” she said, as he turned with a smile. He was standing at the stove, had muffins in the toaster, and was frying eggs for them both.

“Sunny side up or over easy?” He looked relaxed and at ease, and had made himself at home.

“Up is fine. Do you want me to do that?” She took a step toward the stove.

“I'm making breakfast for you,” he said, and then poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her. He wanted to spoil her before he left, it was the reason he had come. “Do you want bacon? I forgot.”

“I don't think I have any, but I'm fine without.” She checked the refrigerator, and there was none. She offered to slice some fruit instead. And he allowed her to slice some oranges and peaches for both of them. He had finished the eggs by then. He put them on two plates, buttered the muffins, and added them. She set the table, and he brought the food, and they both sat down.