But she didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t go back there now. It made
her sad. It made her wish for things she couldn’t have and didn’t have time for.
And there were things she had to do. “I forgot some of the things I need to bring
to my mother. I wasn’t at my sharpest last night.”
“There’s coffee,” Dev said, walking inside with Leslie. “That might help.”
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Some. Enough. You?” The lights had been out in Leslie’s cabin when Dev had
passed it on the way to her own the night before. For one crazy instant she’d
considered walking up the path and tapping on Leslie’s door. What she would
have said if Leslie had answered, she wasn’t sure. Now, in the light of day, she
was glad she hadn’t. The pull of the past was powerful, but it was obvious that
Leslie had no desire to revisit it. And neither should she.
“I slept on and off,” Leslie said. She looked around the dining room and saw
that Dev had already set out plates and utensils and that the big coffee urn was
full. She grasped Dev’s arm. “This is terri? c. I can’t thank you enough. I
should’ve thought to come up and do this myself…”
She wasn’t thinking clearly at all and wondered why not. It was true that her
unexpected illness and this impromptu visit had totally disrupted her normal
routine—she hadn’t been to the gym, hadn’t had a decent meal, hadn’t had a full
night’s sleep in days, no, a week now.
Still, when she’d been involved in a particularly dif? cult trial there had been
long stretches when she hadn’t slept or eaten or exercised, and she’d never lost
her focus. Never forgot things. Never found her mind wandering into the past or
musing about things she couldn’t change or control.
• 104 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
“I just got here, Les. Besides, you need to get to the hospital.
We’ve already discussed this, remember?”
“Why are you doing this, Dev?”
The question surprised Dev. Leslie so rarely revealed the slightest bit of
vulnerability. Her armor was very effectively established by her elegantly
understated blouse and slacks, her designer shoes, her expensive haircut and her
subtle but perfect makeup. But Dev wasn’t looking at any of those things. She
was looking at the shadows beneath Leslie’s blue eyes and remembering the
way her hands had trembled the night before.
“The easy answer would be because I used to be in love with you.”
Leslie’s laughter was part shock and part embarrassed pleasure.
“I’m afraid to hear the hard answer, then.”
Dev shrugged and slid her hands into her back pockets, unconsciously canting
her hips forward the way she used to when she was feeling insecure and wanted
to act tough. “I know all that’s in the past, but I can’t help feeling that we’re still
friends. And that’s what friends do, isn’t it.”
Leslie rested her palm against Dev’s chest and leaned close to kiss her on the
cheek. “I guess it is. Thank you.”
Dev stood completely still as Leslie turned and disappeared up the wide curving
staircase to the second ? oor, where her parents had their bedroom. If
everything between them was in the past, why did being near Leslie still make
her feel better and worse than anything she’d ever experienced, all at the same
time?
Since she didn’t know the answer, and doubted she ever would, she settled for
doing something that did make sense. She went to the kitchen to make breakfast
for ten.
v
“You don’t have to stay here all morning,” Eileen said to Leslie when Leslie
returned to the surgical waiting area for the fourth time after stepping outside to
make a phone call.
“Sorry,” Leslie muttered as she sat down beside her mother in the surprisingly
comfortable chair. The waiting room was carpeted, with
• 105 •
RADCLY fFE
small seating areas arranged so that families could have some privacy.
She and her mother sat alone in the far corner next to several windows that
looked out over a small landscaped seating area with trees and stone benches.
The smokers congregated there. “Just a couple of things I need to take care of
at the of? ce.”
“I guess you can never really go on vacation.”
“If I didn’t take care of things,” Leslie said, crossing her legs and resting her
head against the back of the chair, “they’d just be there waiting for me. The
problems don’t go away just because I’m not there.”
“No.” Eileen sighed. “The ostrich approach is tempting, but I’ve never known it
to work.”
Leslie laughed. “True on both counts.”
“I mean it, though. I can call you when the doctors come out. It’s likely to be at
least another hour.”
“I’d rather stay.” Leslie looked at her watch. Her tests were scheduled for three
that afternoon, across the street at the outpatient medical building. Unfortunately,
she would probably be able to get there in plenty of time. She felt ridiculous
wasting several hours when she felt perfectly healthy. Other than the
embarrassing episode she’d had in front of Dev the day she’d arrived, she’d
only had one other very brief period of the irregular ? uttering sensation in her
chest—just after she got out of bed that morning. It couldn’t have lasted more
than twenty seconds. In fact, it was over so quickly she wasn’t certain it’d been
anything at all. “Are you planning to stay here tonight too?”
“It depends on how your father’s doing. I thought I might, especially with the
truck acting up.”
“That problem is going to be solved very quickly. If I have time this afternoon
I’m going to put it out of its misery. Do you think Daddy wants another Jeep?”
“I think we should probably wait to ask him. I’m not certain we’ve budgeted for
a new truck this year.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Leslie said.
“Leslie,” Eileen said, “it’s a generous offer. I appreciate it. I really do, and so
will your father. But it’s not your responsibility.”
Responsibility. Was that what it was called when you did something for
someone you loved? What was it called when you didn’t? Leslie knew the
answer. It was called cowardice.
• 106 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
The sun coming through her bedroom window was so bright, it hurt Leslie’s
eyes. It hurt her head. It made her queasy. She rolled onto her side and closed
