"Yes, but you have partners."

"True. You ought to think about that some time. I don't see how you manage the way you do. You're going to get sick one of these days, a bad case of hepatitis, or worse yet, get AIDS from one of your patients."

"That's a pleasant thought," she said, looking away from him, out the window.

"It happens," he said seriously, "you should think about what you're doing. There's no point being a hero, or a martyr."

"I have thought about it, and this is where I belong. They need me, Dick."

"So does everyone else. So does your daughter. You need to take more time off." He was the second person who had told her that that night, and she glanced over at him, wondering why he had said it. He wasn't usually that solicitous, or that concerned. He wasn't much of a nurturer, although he was a doctor. "You look tired, Zoe," he said simply, and then he patted her hand with a smile. "A nice dinner out will do you good. You probably never eat either." She couldn't even remember if she'd had breakfast or lunch that day, she had hit the deck running the moment she got to the office. Most of her days were like that.

But when they got to the restaurant, she was inclined to agree with him. It was so pretty and well lit, and the table was so inviting that she was sorry she didn't see him more often. He ordered wine for both of them, and they decided to split the rack of lamb, and they ordered souffle for dessert. It was certainly a far cry from the leftover hamburgers she ate at home off of Jade's plate, or the cold pizza she found in the fridge at the office.

"This is lovely," she said, looking grateful.

"I've missed you," he said simply, reaching out for her hand. But she wasn't in the mood for romance, and there was something about his arrogance that always kept her from falling for him, although she found him physically attractive. But, tonight, in spite of the candlelight and the wine, she was inclined to keep her distance.

"I've been busy," she said, explaining her two-week absence.

"Too much so. What about a weekend somewhere? I've rented a house at Stinson Beach for July and August. What about coming over for a weekend?"

She smiled at him then. She knew him better than he thought. "With Jade?" she asked, and he hesitated, and then nodded.

"If you prefer, but it might do you good to get away from her too."

"I'd miss her," she said, and then laughed at herself. "I'd probably be an awful guest right now, I'm so tired I'd probably sleep all weekend."

"I might think of ways to wake you," he said, looking alarmingly sensual as he raised his glass to her, and then sipped it.

"I believe you would, Dr. Franklin." She smiled at him again, and the evening sped by with talk of the hospital they both practiced in, the politics that were typical of all major teaching hospitals, and several intriguing rumors. They each talked about their specialties, and he described a new technique he had perfected which was already going into textbooks. He was good at what he did, and not particularly modest, but Zoe didn't mind it. It made for fascinating conversation, and she liked talking medicine with him. Although when she said as much to Sam from time to time, he accused her of being too single-minded, and said he hated going out to dinner with female doctors and discussing liver transplants over pasta. He thought she should expand her horizons, besides which, he couldn't stand Dick Franklin. He thought he was impossible and pompous.

Zoe and Dick both had cappuccino after the souffle was gone, and it was almost eleven o'clock by then, and Zoe didn't want to admit it to him, but she was exhausted. It was all she could do to stay awake at the table. And she was planning to do rounds at seven o'clock the next morning, which meant she'd be up at five or five-thirty with Jade. She got up with her every morning, and played with her before she went to work. It was her favorite time of day with her baby.

But Dick didn't even seem to notice how tired she was when he took her home and reminded her again about the weekend in Stinson. "Let me know when it works for you," he said, with a warm look at her. "I'm at your disposal."

"I have to line up my relief doc first, and make sure the au pair can stay over on Sunday." Despite teasing him, she would never have inflicted Jade on him for an entire weekend. She would have driven him crazy, even though she was a good baby. But he wanted to listen to classical music, make love in the afternoon, and discuss surgical techniques with an equal, not change diapers, or wipe applesauce off a baby. And Zoe understood that. "I'll see when they're both free, and I'll call you." They were sitting in his car outside her house, he had wanted to take her to his place first, in Pacific Heights, but he could see as they drove across town that she was already yawning, and she apologized for being such bad company, as he drove past his place toward Edgewood.

"The trouble is you're not," he said gently, looking longingly up at her house, but he wasn't sure about tackling the child and the au pair, and he knew Zoe preferred to go to his place. "Every time I see you, I want to spend more time with you, and you're always too busy." He understood that about her life though. He himself had a busy schedule with an enormous number of patients to see, he was considered the preeminent breast surgeon at UC, and he still managed to lecture all over the country.

"Maybe that's what keeps things interesting," Zoe said, smiling at him, as she sat in the comfortable car, watching him. He was incredibly smooth and good-looking, and yet, although she enjoyed his company a great deal, she knew she could never love him. "Maybe if we spent more time together, I'd bore you."

But he laughed at her when she said it. "I don't think that's very likely." She was one of his favorite women, and she tantalized him in some ways, as she did now. She managed to be both vulnerable and unattainable, both powerful and gentle, and the contrasts excited him more than he cared to tell her. "I don't suppose I can talk you into shocking your household tonight, can I?" he asked hopefully, and she shook her head slowly. She never did that. Not with the au pair and the baby around, and she wasn't going to start that, even for Dr. Franklin.

"I'm afraid not, Dick. I'm sorry."

"I'm not surprised," he smiled good-naturedly, "only disappointed. Well, go look at your calendar and pick a date for a weekend. Soon, please."

"Yes, sir." He walked her upstairs, and opened the door for her with her key, and kissed her chastely on the lips. There was no point getting anything started that they couldn't finish, as far as he was concerned. And he was a patient man, he could wait a week or two to see her again, although he would have preferred to make love to her that evening. But he was willing to accept her limitations. She thanked him for dinner, and he left, and the moment he was gone, she hurried to her bedroom, took off her clothes, and slipped into bed without even putting on her nightgown or brushing her teeth. She was too tired to do anything but sleep, and she lay dead to the world until six o'clock the next morning.

Jade was already awake when she went in to check on her, and playing happily with the toys the au pair had left in her crib the night before for exactly that purpose. She was alternately talking to herself and singing softly, but she stood up and squealed when she saw her mother.

"Hi there, monkey face," Zoe said as she picked her up and took her to change her diaper, But she noticed as she did that Jade seemed heavier than usual, and Zoe was still tired after a night's sleep. That was happening more and more lately, and it reminded her to call the lab when she got into the office.

She left the house at six forty-five, and was at UC Hospital to do rounds at seven, and in her office at eight-thirty, and there were already two dozen patients waiting for her. It was one of the busiest days she'd had in months, and she didn't have time to call the lab till lunchtime. And when she did, they didn't have the results for her, and for once she lost her temper.

"We've waited two weeks for this, dammit. It's not fair to keep people waiting that long," she complained. "These are life-and-death situations, we're not talking about a urinalysis here, for chrissake. How soon can I have it?" They apologized for being backlogged and promised her that if she called back at four o'clock she'd have the results, but she didn't get a chance to stop again until five-thirty, and she still had patients waiting for her. But she wanted the results before the close of business, so she called them. They fumbled around for a while, while she fumed, and pushed several messages around her desk, and then they came back on the line and told her.

"Positive," the lab tech said matter-of-factly. It was no big surprise. Her patients tested positive for the AIDS virus all the time. That was why they came to see her.

"Positive?" she said, as though she'd never heard it before. "Positive?" "Positive?" She could feel the planet spinning. She could feel the planet spinning.

"That's what I said," he said easily. "Is it a surprise this time?" The trouble was, it wasn't. It explained how tired she had been, how exhausted, the weight she had lost, the diarrhea she had had from time to time, and the symptoms that had been troubling her for six months, since Christmas. The results were her own this time, and she knew exactly when it had happened. She had stuck herself with a dirty needle by accident, nearly a year before, when she was doing a blood test on a little girl who had died of AIDS two months ago, in April.

She thanked the lab tech for the results, and hung up the phone ever so quietly, feeling as though the world had just come to an end, just as her patients did when she told them. There had been nothing subtle about it, nothing gentle about what he said. "Positive"... positive... she had AIDS... What would she do with Jade?... How was she going to work? Who would take care of her when she got sick?... What was she going to do now? And as she contemplated the enormity of it, she was overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. She had had denial about it at first, but she had suspected it for weeks, when she had gotten a funny sore on her lip. It had disappeared fairly rapidly, but her suspicions didn't. Her own medical background had finally forced her to face it, and at least get tested. It was exactly what she dealt with, with her patients. But her concerns had been vivid enough to make her avoid Dick Franklin for the last few weeks, although she had always been extremely careful with him. Ever since her lover had died of AIDS ten years before, she had always exercised every precaution, and warned the men in her life about him. She had told Dick, and they had both been unfailingly cautious. She had never exposed him to any risk. But if she were to continue seeing him now, she would tell him, just so he'd know what she had to contend with. But she had no desire to see him, or tell him. She couldn't imagine him taking care of her or even being very sympathetic. He had even warned her of the risks she was taking, with her kind of practice. It had happened to other doctors before, just as it had to her. And he didn't think the dangers were worth it.

He was a scientist, and they were good friends certainly, but he wasn't the kind of person you went to with a problem. He was the kind of man you went out with for a nice evening. But she was sure he'd be appalled, if she told him. And she knew, without even thinking about it, that their dating career had just ended. So had a lot of things, maybe not her medical career for now, but certainly her future. She had an overwhelming urge to burst into tears, but she knew she couldn't, she still had to see patients. But suddenly, she could hardly think straight.

"Anyone home?" Sam Warner popped his head around her door again, and looked startled when he saw her expression. She looked as though someone had just shot her out of a cannon. And they had. A big one. "Are you okay? You look awful," he said bluntly.

"I think I'm coming down with something," she said vaguely, groping for an excuse to explain her complete discomposure. "A cold, a flu... something."

"Then you shouldn't be here," he said firmly. "I'm not hustling you for work, but your patients can't afford to catch anything from you, and you know it."

"I'll wear a mask," she said, fumbling in her desk with trembling fingers, and he saw how badly her hands shook when she tried unsuccessfully to tie it. But he didn't say anything. He just looked worried, "I... really... I'm fine... I just... I have a headache..."

"You're a mess," he said, taking the stethoscope from around her neck and putting it on the table. "Go home. I'll see the rest of your patients, and I won't charge you. It's a gift from me. Some people just don't know when to quit." He wagged a finger at her and almost pushed her out the door, but she didn't refuse him. Suddenly she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't believe what she'd heard. She had AIDS... AIDS... the killer that all her patients died of... her life was over. It wasn't, of course, she could live for years with the proper care, and she knew that. But she had the virus in her blood, waiting there, like a sniper or a time bomb. "Go home," Sam was saying to her, "get into bed, and stay there. I'll come by and check on you later."

"You don't have to, I'm fine. And thank you for finishing up for me." He was a great guy and she was deeply fond of him. He was so incredibly kind and gentle with her dying patients. She wondered if she should tell him what had happened, it made perfect sense to tell him, but she didn't want anyone to know. Not yet. Not until she had to. Not Sam. Not her friends. No one. Not even her nurses. Except Dick Franklin, of course, she knew she'd have to tell him she was infected with the AIDS virus, although she had been scrupulously careful, and knew there had been no risk to him. But purely ethically, she wanted to tell him, although she had no intention of sleeping with him again. But there was no one else she wanted to share her bad news with. As she did with everything else, she kept it to herself. Zoe Phillips did not cry on anyone's shoulder.

But Zoe cried all the way home, in the old Volkswagen van, and when she reached her house, she looked almost as ravaged as she felt. The au pair looked shocked when she walked in, and even Jade stared at her for a moment. "Mommy sad?" she asked, looking worried.

"Mommy loves you," she said, holding her close, thinking that she would have to be very careful not to cut herself, or go anywhere near Jade if she did. She wondered if she should wear a mask and gloves in the house now, and then realized she was being ridiculous and panic was settling in. She was a doctor, she knew better than that. But this was so different. It was her life. It was hard to be rational and objective.

She took Sam's advice and went to bed, and Jade crawled in with her, and Zoe lay there for a long time, holding her little girl. It was as though the child sensed that something was terribly wrong, and she might lose her mother somehow. It wasn't that she "might," it was that she would one day, Zoe reminded herself, the question was when, not if, as it was for anyone with the AIDS virus. But in Zoe's case, because of how she'd contracted it, it would be sooner rather than later, and she panicked again at the realization that she had no one to leave Jade with when she died. She'd have to think it over before too long, and decisions had to be made.

An hour later, Inge came in to tell her that Dr. Franklin was on the phone. Zoe hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head. She asked Inge to tell him that she was out, and when Inge returned, she gave Zoe a number at Stinson Beach. But she didn't want to talk to him on the phone, she had already decided to send him a note. It would be easier to tell him in writing. Her conscience was clear because she had been scrupulously careful, she always was, and she knew she hadn't exposed him to any risk. But she still felt she had to tell him, she only hoped that she could trust him, and that he wouldn't spread the word. The medical community was so small and gossipy, she just didn't want anyone to know yet, although eventually, she supposed, once she got very sick, the news would get around. But if she was lucky that might not be for a very long time. And in the meantime, she didn't want Dick Franklin filling everyone in. She didn't want her colleagues talking and gossiping about her. It wasn't anyone's business that she had AIDS. But despite the fact that she didn't feel close to Dick, she felt she had no choice but to tell him the truth. And in fact, wanting to get it off her chest, she wrote a brief letter to him that afternoon. It said only what it had to, that she had tested positive, and she felt he ought to know, but she reminded him that they had never taken any risks. She also told him that she needed to be on her own for a while, and she felt that it was best now if they both moved on. She let him very gently, and very graciously, off the hook, and reading her note again, she wondered if he'd even call her after he got it. Dick Franklin was interesting and intelligent, but he had never been particularly warm. She couldn't imagine him offering her any comfort, or even calling to see how she was, let alone wanting to know if he could help her with Jade. Dick was strictly a dinner partner, a companion for the theater or the opera, or an adult weekend; he was a person for good times, and not bad. But she had no expectations of him. All she wanted from him was that he not tell everyone at UC. It seemed very little to ask of him.

After she wrote the letter to him, Zoe went back to bed, and cuddled with her daughter again. And after a little while, Inge came to take Jade away and give her dinner, and she looked at her employer worriedly. She had never seen Zoe look so lifeless or so distressed, and Zoe had never felt as devastated as she did now, except perhaps when her friend died. She didn't feel ill, she felt terrified, all she wanted to do was run and hide and put the covers over her head, and cling to someone, but there was no one there to hold on to.

She didn't bother to turn on the lights and it was still light outside, although it was twilight. And she could hear Jade playing in the next room with Inge, as the au pair fed her dinner. And at the comforting sounds, Zoe drifted off to sleep, and she slept until she heard someone speaking to her, and she looked up in surprise to see Sam Warner. He was standing next to her, and feeling her neck for a fever.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly, and she had never been as grateful to him as she was at that moment. She could see why her patients loved him. He had a good heart, and a gentle manner. Sometimes that was more important than being a doctor.

"I'm okay," she said honestly. And she was, for the moment, but she was so scared she almost felt ill, and she was angry at herself for being so pathetic.

"No, you're not," he said bluntly. He sat down on her bed carefully and looked at her, checking her eyes and her color without ever touching her, and he was puzzled. "You're not feverish, but you look like shit." She looked terribly upset more than anything, and then he had a thought, and he decided to ask her. "Could you be pregnant?" She smiled in answer, would that it were that simple, or that happy.

"I'm afraid not," she said sadly, "but it's a sweet thought. I almost wish I were."

"I'd be happy to help out if that would cheer you up." She laughed and he reached out and took her hand. "Zoe, I know this sounds like I'm looking for work, but I'm not." She smiled at him, knowing how busy he was already doing locum tenens for other doctors. There were a lot of doctors who asked him to cover for them, he didn't need her business. "Kiddo, you need a break. I don't know what's bothering you," he was beginning to think it was emotional rather than physical, but it was obvious to him she needed some time off, "but I think you need some time away from work. You can't give four hundred percent of yourself all the time, and not have it take a toil eventually. Why don't you try and get away?" She thought of Dick Franklin's invitation to Stinson the night before, but that was inappropriate now, and besides, she didn't want to. But she also understood what Sam was saying. She needed to do something for herself. And if she was going to have to fight for her life, she was also going to have to try and prolong it. And maybe now that meant taking some time off and building her strength up.

"I'll think about it."

"No, you won't. I know you. You'll be back doing rounds at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Why don't you at least let me do that for you for a few days, and you can arrive at the office like a civilized person at nine o'clock." The offer was very tempting, and she wasn't sure what to say to him. If nothing else, she would have been grateful for just one night off to sleep and think and get her bearings.

"Would you cover for me tonight and tomorrow morning?" she asked, feeling exhausted again. She wasn't sure if it was due to the disease she was carrying, or if she was just emotionally drained by the confirmation that she had it.

"I'll do anything you want," he said kindly, as Zoe's heart went out to him, and she was tempted to tell him what she had just found out. But she didn't want to tell anyone at this point, not even Sam. Later, she would need him. Eventually, she would have to cut down her practice, maybe he would even come in with her for a while, but it was still too soon to ask him, and it depressed her to have to think about it.

"I really appreciate this," she said softly as he stood up.

"Just shut up and get some sleep. I'll call the service for you. You'll probably feel great when you wake up tomorrow, but I don't want to see you at the hospital. And come to think of it, why don't you come in around ten?"

"You're going to make me lazy, Sam," she said, lying back against her pillows, as he stopped in the doorway.

"I don't think anyone could do that." He smiled across the room at her. There was a lot he would have liked to say to her, about respect and friendship, and the kind of working relationship they shared, but he never seemed to find the opportunities to tell her. He had wanted to ask her out ever since he came back to San Francisco, but she always kept her distance. And he'd seen her out once or twice with the illustrious Dick Franklin. He didn't think it was serious between them, but he also didn't think it was appropriate to ask. Despite the longevity of their friendship, she was extremely private about her life. Yet it was hard for him not to respond to her warmth and compassion. He admired her more than he could ever tell her, and he would have done anything for her.

"Thanks, Sam," she said, and he waved and closed the door behind him. She lay in bed, lost in her own thoughts after that, for a long time. There was so much to think about, her practice, her daughter, her health, their future. It was all racing through her head, and as she closed her eyes again, it all seemed like a blur. And then suddenly, as she lay there, she thought of Tanya. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have recommended for one of her patients, and as she thought about it again, she decided to take her own good advice and call her.

She looked in her address book and dialed the number. She knew it was a private line, somewhere in Tanya's house. For a minute, Zoe thought she wasn't there, and then she answered on the fourth ring. She sounded out of breath and there was music in the background. She was alone at that hour, and she had been outside doing exercises by the pool.

"Hello?" She sounded exactly the way she had in college, it was odd how some things about them had never changed, and others had far too much.

"Tanny?" Zoe's voice was soft and tired and vulnerable as she reached out to her, and for a moment she wanted to melt into her arms and dissolve in tears. But she forced herself to be strong as she spoke to her, and Tanya never suspected how distressed Zoe was, or that she had a problem.

"I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon." Tanya sounded surprised but pleased to hear her. They had talked to each other only the day before, after two long years, and it surprised her to get another call so soon from Zoe. "What's up?"

"Something crazy happened today." Something very crazy, in fact, but she didn't say that. "There's a doctor who does relief for me sometimes. He's kicking me out of my office for a few days. He says he needs the work."

"Are you serious?" Tanya still sounded startled, she still didn't understand why Zoe had called her.

"I am... and I was thinking... the trip you talked about... Wyoming... I don't suppose... I wouldn't want to intrude or anything... are you going with anyone? I just thought..." Tanya understood the reason for her call then, and it was the perfect opportunity for them to be together. But she knew that if Zoe knew Mary Stuart was joining them, she probably wouldn't come. There was plenty of time to explain it to them once they got there, and Tanya was sure that if they made it that far, everything would be all right at long last between them.

"No, I'm going alone," she lied. She quickly gave her all the details and suggested she fly directly to Jackson Hole. If Zoe came to L.A. to drive to Wyoming with them, Tanya didn't want to take a chance on Mary Stuart's refusing to get on the bus with them. She was sure that once they were at the ranch, it would be a wonderful reunion. But before they got there, she didn't want to give either of them a chance to back out.

"I can only come for a week though," Zoe said firmly. She was already panicking at the thought of leaving her practice. But it was the kind of thing she was going to have to do now, if she wanted to maintain her health. But in any case, a week was long enough.

"That's fine. Maybe we'll talk you into the second week once you get there," Tanya said happily. She couldn't think of anything nicer than a vacation with her two oldest friends from college.

"You're not bringing a date, are you?" Zoe asked, having heard the first person plural, but when Tanya said she wasn't, she figured the we we was just a figure of speech. It never even occurred to her that Tanya had invited Mary Stuart. was just a figure of speech. It never even occurred to her that Tanya had invited Mary Stuart.

"What about your baby?" Tanya asked her candidly. She would have made adjustments either way. And Zoe thought about it for a long moment and then shook her head slowly.

"I don't think so, Tan. She's really too little. She won't enjoy it at her age, and it might do me good to really get away for a change." Although in some ways, Zoe hated to do it. She was reluctant to leave the baby and her patients, "You're all right though, right?" There was something in Zoe's voice that worried Tanya, but it was nothing she could put her finger on, and Zoe kept insisting that there was no problem. But there was something in the way she sounded that Tanya vaguely remembered, something about her voice that was reminiscent of when Zoe was in trouble or distraught over something years before, like Ellie. But it had been so long since they'd seen each other that Tanya didn't dare press her, or accuse her of lying.

"I'm fine," Zoe reassured her. "And I can't wait to see you." She was a good rider, a good friend, and with any luck at all, Tanya thought, by the first night, Zoe and Mary Stuart would have made peace with each other, and they'd all be together again, just like old times.

"See you at the ranch," Tanya said as she signed off. She was so happy that Zoe had called her.

"See you then." Zoe smiled, and rolled over on her side in bed and hung up. It was so unlike her to drop everything and leave her practice, and yet she knew she had to do it. She was going to do everything she could now to prolong her life. It had been precious to her before, but with little Jade to think about, it was even more precious now. And knowing what she'd have to fight eventually, the trip to Wyoming became suddenly very important.

Chapter 9.

Sam worked with Zoe for several hours the following week, to acquaint himself with her current patients. There were a number of them he knew from covering for her on the odd night, here and there. But when he read all the current files of her most acutely ill patients, he was stunned by how many she handled. She had roughly fifty terminally ill patients, and there were more arriving on her doorstep every day, and sometimes every night.

They were brought in by friends, or relatives, or just simply people who had heard about what she was doing. They were all very sick, some who had AIDS, and others who didn't. She took care of all of them, and Sam was particularly touched by the children. There were so many little ones with AIDS. It made you grateful for every healthy child you'd ever seen. Sam knew why Zoe was particularly appreciative of Jade. She was a truly remarkable baby, and wonderfully healthy.

"I can't believe the number of patients you see every day," Sam commented late one afternoon, "it's inhuman. No wonder you're tired all the time." It would have been so easy then to just tell him she had AIDS. But it wasn't his problem, or his business. She had already decided she wasn't going to make it anyone's burden but her own, for as long as she could do it. She was planning to save money for herself to put aside for medical care and treatment, for nursing care if it ever came to that. The only real problem she had was Jade, and what to do with her when she died. It seemed awful to be thinking like that, but Zoe knew she had to. Part of her was still resisting it, but another part had already accepted her fate. It seemed an incredible end to a bright career, and if she let herself, she could dwell on her bad luck and ill fate, but she really didn't want to do that. She just wanted to enjoy whatever time she had. And she knew she might have years, even a decade, it didn't happen often, but it happened to some that way, and she was going to do everything she could to ensure that it happened to her. The trip to Wyoming was part of that, the rest, the scenery, the altitude, the air, along with the comfort of seeing her old friend Tanya.

"What about this one?" Sam interrupted her reverie to hold out a file to her. It belonged to an extremely sick young man. He had already entered the last stages of AIDS dementia, and Zoe doubted that he would last much longer. He had put up a valiant fight for months, and there wasn't much she could do now, except make him comfortable, and console his lover. She visited him every day. She explained it all to Sam and he shook his head. Hers was the most unorthodox of all the practices he worked for, but it was also the most creative in terms of treatment, and he was deeply moved by her compassion. She seemed to leave no stone unturned in seeking out new antibiotics, medications, ways of treating infection and pain, and even unusual holistic treatments. She did anything she could to beat the disease, right till the bitter end, and to comfort the patient.

"One of these days we'll get lucky," she said sadly. But not soon enough for all of them. Or even for herself now.

"I think they got lucky when they found you," he said, looking at her with ever increasing admiration. He had always liked her so much, and he liked her even more now. She was everything a physician should be, and most weren't accessible personally but she was. He wondered if it had anything to do with the lover who had died of AIDS years before. He wondered if she had loved anyone since then, and guessed that she hadn't. Surely not Dick Franklin. Sam would have liked to be closer to her. She had always been very open with him, and very friendly, but he never felt there was any interest on her part in being more than friends and business associates and collaborating physicians.

And particularly lately she felt she couldn't allow herself to be close to anyone. She was very careful to put a safe distance between herself and the rest of the world, even Sam, whom she had known since med school. She didn't want to mislead him or anyone, to lead them on, or provide a come-on. She wanted to make it clear to everyone that she was not available as a woman, only as a doctor. It seemed the only fair way to handle her situation. She had even thought about buying herself a cheap wedding band, and she forced herself not to think of the lonely path she was taking.

But as they worked on the last of the files, Sam glanced at her again and wondered if he could ask her out to dinner. There was still plenty to talk about, and he was in no hurry to go home. "Can I talk you into something to eat while we finish up? I thought we could go out for pasta in the neighborhood or something. Any interest?" he asked, nearly holding his breath and feeling stupid for it. She made him feel like a kid sometimes, and he liked that. He liked everything about her. He always had. And over the years, he had come to admire her more, and like her better.

"That sounds fine," she said with no clue at all that he found her even remotely attractive. She had wanted to take him out anyway, to thank him for giving her the opportunity to leave town and have a real vacation. She felt a little guilty leaving Jade, but he had promised he'd keep an eye on her too, and stop in and see her and the au pair when he left the office.

"You're really a full-service on-call doctor," she teased as she slid into the booth in a little Italian restaurant in the Upper Haight. She had come here for years, and she liked it. It was quiet, and the food was good, and it was the first time she and Sam had sat down and talked to each other over dinner since med school. They laughed about how long it had been. Although their paths had crossed regularly over the past eighteen years, they'd never really had time alone together, they were always working.

They both ordered ravioli, and he offered her wine but she refused, and then they settled down to talk about work again. They were halfway through dinner when he looked at her with his boyish grin, and something warm and friendly in his eyes that made her feel surprisingly easy with him, more than ever.

"Don't you do anything but work?" he asked gently. He admired her, but he felt sorry for her too. She did so much for so many people, and he knew firsthand how draining it was. But there didn't seem to be anyone to do anything for her. And he couldn't imagine her deriving any real comfort from her relationship with Dick Franklin, or anyone like him.

"Not lately," she answered him, "except for Jade." And then he wondered about something.

"Have you ever been married?" He didn't think so, and he realized he'd been right when she shook her head.

"Never." She didn't seem in the least bothered about it. She was comfortable with her life, and happy with her daughter. Her life seemed enormously fulfilling.

But Sam was curious about it. "Why not? If you don't mind my asking."

She smiled. She didn't mind at all. Except for her illness, she had no secrets from him. "I never really wanted to, when I was young. And the only man I probably should have married died over ten years ago. He contracted AIDS from a transfusion. Thanks to him, I started the clinic. He was in research and he was brilliant. He had bypass surgery at forty-two, and eventually it killed him. He didn't live a year after the transfusion. I thought about going into research with him. I'd always been intrigued with unsolved mysteries, and remote diseases. And then AIDS came along, and I got caught up in the physical-care end of it and not the research."

"It would have been a real loss to a lot of people if you'd done something different," he said gently, and he meant it. She was a fantastic physician. He knew about the doctor who'd died too, but he'd heard about him from other people. And he watched her as she told him. She looked sad, but not devastated, and he sensed that she'd recovered, although she'd obviously never found anyone who meant as much to her. "Before AIDS, I was fairly involved in juvenile diabetes. In its own way, that's another scourge like this one, although it gets a lot less attention."

"I've always been interested in it too. And I guess I'm a scavenger of sorts, I love visiting other people'd practices, picking up little bits and pieces of information, and solving problems, doing what I can, and then moving on. It probably sounds irresponsible, but I've never wanted my own practice. That just seems like a lot of paperwork and red tape, and issues that have nothing to do with medicine or patients. I like doing hands-on work, I don't want to waste time with contracts and insurance and worrying about property, and all the politics established doctors get involved with. Maybe I just haven't grown up yet. I keep waiting for it to happen, I keep thinking that one of these days I'll want to associate with a group of docs and join their office, but I never do. What I see of most of them turns me off completely, except on a rotating basis, the way I do it with you. This way, I get to do all the good stuff."

She smiled at what he said. It was a little bit like the philosophy of emergency room doctors. They wanted to deal with the patients and not the paper or the overhead or the problems. But in her case she would have missed the long-term relationships she developed. "You remind me a little of the Lone Ranger," she said, smiling,"... who was that masked man, Tonto?... My patients love you. You do a great job. And I can't really blame you for avoiding all the crap that goes with an ordinary practice. I've really missed not having partners, it's so much more work like this. But I also like not having the headaches, the arguments, the petty jealousies, and all the problems. When Adam died, he made it possible to set up the kind of clinic I wanted, and do it exactly the way I thought it should be. But it's still awfully hard not having adequate help, except on occasion." She smiled at him again, and he found himself wondering again how involved she was with Dick Franklin, but he was afraid to ask her.