"P.M."s going to be a daddy," Emma said.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks." It was awkward, standing beside the bed, trying to think of

the right things to say. The things not to say. Stevie had flown over

from London with him, and they'd seen the paper at an airport newsstand.

They'd barely known what to say to each other, much less what to say to

Emma. "I'll be on my way." He kissed her, then paused and kissed her

again. "We'll be back around tonight."

"Thanks for the flowers." She lifted a hand to the violas on her tray.

"They're lovely-11

"Well Heartsick, he stood for a moment, then left them alone.

"It's uncomfortable for him," Emma murmured. "For all of them."

Her fingers worked restlessly at the bedsheets, then moved to brush at

Charlie. "It's hard to see their eyes when they first walk in. I

suppose I look pretty bad."

"That's the first time I've heard you fish for a compliment." He sat

beside her. "People have been going in and out of here most of the day.

You haven't gotten much rest."

"I don't really want to be alone. You stayed with me all night." She

held out a hand. "I heard you talking to me and I knew I was still

alive. I wanted to thank you for that."

"I love you, Emma." He dropped his forehead on their joined hands. There

was no response from her as he fought to pull his raw emotions back in

line. "Wrong time, wrong place." With a sigh, he rose and paced the

room. "I guess you're going to have to think about it since I said it.

Anyway, if you're feeling up to it, we'd like to get your statement."

She watched him roam restlessly around the room. There was nothing she

could say, not now when she could barely feel. If things had been

different ... She wondered, if things had been different, if she

would have reached out, if she could have trusted enough. But things

weren't different.

"Who do I have to talk to?"

"You can talk to me." The control was back when he turned to her. "Or I

can get a female officer if you'd be more comfortable."

"No." Her restless fingers began to pluck at the violas. "No, I can

talk to you."

"There's a stenographer waiting."

"All right. We can do it now. I'd like to get it over with."

It wasn't easy. Somehow she'd thought it would be, with her emotions so

deadened. But there were enough left, just enough to bring on the

shame. She didn't look at him as she spoke. As time dragged on she

told him everything. She hoped that by talking about all the fears, the

shames and humiliations, she would be purged of them. But when it was

done, she only felt tired.

Michael dismissed the steno with a nod. He couldn't speak, didn't dare.

"Is that all you need?" Emma asked.

He nodded again. He needed to get out. "We'll have it typed up. You

can read it over when you're feeling up to it, and sign it. I'll check

back later."

He swung out of the room and started for the elevators. McCarthy