"I don't know. I get the feeling babies are pretty unpredictable."

Brian crouched down beside her. "We have to be very careful with him,

Emma. He's so helpless, you see."

"I won't let anything happen to him, not ever." She put her hand on her

father's shoulder and watched the baby sleep.

EMMA WASN'T SURE she liked Miss Wallingsford. The young nurse had

pretty red hair and nice gray eyes, but she rarely allowed Emma to touch

baby Darren. Bev had interviewed dozens of applicants, and was well

satisfied with Alice Wallingsford. She was twenty-five, of good family,

and had excellent references and a pleasing manner.

In the first months after Darren's birth, Bev was so tired and moody

Alice's services became invaluable. More, she was another woman to talk

with about things like teething, breastfeeding, and diets. Bev was as

determined to gain back her willowy figure as she was to be a good

mother. With Brian closed up writing songs with Johnno, or in meetings

with Pete about the next recording, she struggled to make the home she

wanted so badly for them.

She listened when he spoke of things like war in Asia, race riots in

America, but her world centered on whether the sun would shine

warm enough to take Darren for a stroll. She taught herself how to bake

bread and tried her hand at knitting, while Brian wrote songs, and spoke

out against war and bigotry.

As her body returned to normal, her mind eased. For Bev, this was the

sweetest time of her life. Her son was chubbily healthy, and her

husband treated her like a princess in bed.

With Darren at her breast and Emma at her feet, she rocked in the chair

by the nursery window. There had been rain that morning, but the sun

was out now, and bright. She thought that by afternoon she could take

the baby and Emma for a walk in the park.

"I'm going to put him down now, Emma." Bev shifted her blouse to cover

her breast. "He's fast asleep."

"Can I hold him when he wakes up?"

"Yes, but only when I'm with you."

"Miss Wallingsford never lets me hold him."

"She's just being cautious." Bev smoothed the blanket over Darren before

she stepped back. He was nearly five months old now, she thought.

Already she couldn't imagine her life without him. "Let's go down and

see about baking a nice cake. Your Dad loves chocolate cake."

Knowing she had to be satisfied with that, Emma followed her out.

Alice paused in the hallway, holding fresh linens for the nursery.

"He should sleep awhile, Alice," Bev told her. "His tummy's full."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Emma and I will be in the kitchen."

An hour later, when they'd taken the cake out to cool, the front door

slammed. "Your Dad must be home early." Bev automatically fluffed her

hair before she hurried out of the kitchen to greet him. "Bri, I didn't

expect you until ... what's wrong?"

He was dead pale, his eyes red-rimmed and bleary. He shook his head as

if to clear it as Bev held out her hands to him. "They've shot him."

"What?" Her fingers clamped down hard on his. "Who? Shot who?"