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the street wore the fading scars of last night's rainstorm. The way the kitten, live and mischievous, shifted against her back with the movements of her body. The way her lips felt full, almost swollen, unwilling to release the memory of his lips.
    His initials were A. M. Was he Andrew Martin? Allan Michael?
    Before this day was over, she was determined to learn Dr. A. M. Kent's first name. Even if she never saw him again, she could hardly go on remembering that kiss, attributing her wild heartbeat and tingling lips to someone her mind labeled Dr. Kent.
    The bus doors slid open as she reached them. She leapt on and dropped her money in for full fare.
    * * *
    Jamie found Sara Miller sitting cross-legged on a braided rug by the window of room 312 at the hospital. The child was playing with a stuffed doll. In the bed to her right, a sleeping boy lay with his leg in a complicated traction device.
    "Hello, Sara."
    The girl scrambled to her feet. "Did you find Squiggles? The nurse told me somebody found Squiggles! Is he 'kay?"
    "He's fine. Do you want to see?"
    "Have you got him here? Really here?"
    Jamie slipped the pack off her shoulders. "We have to be careful. I brought him in my backpack, but we can't let him get away."
    " 'Kay," agreed Sara soberly.
    Jamie unzipped the closure six inches and opened it for Sara to peek in. When the girl reached in, Jamie heard a mewing sound.
    "Oh, Squiggles, I was so 'fraid you got sick."
    "He slept on my bed last night," said Jamie. "I fed him tuna and he ate a whole handful of Kitten Chow. He seems very healthy."
    "Water. Cats need water, too."
    "I gave him water. And a litter box." Jamie heard footsteps outside the room and said hurriedly, "Someone's coming. We'd better zip the bag."
    Sara pulled her hand out of the pack and Jamie closed the zipper, hoping Squiggles would stop squirming before he got spotted. She stuffed the pack out of sight beside her as the door opened and Wayne Miller stepped in.
    Sara flew to her feet and ran across the room. "Daddy, the lady found Squiggles! He's right here and he doesn't have 'monia or anything. Come see!"
    Sara's father clasped his daughter tightly. "Are you okay, honey? Does your head still hurt?"
    Sara tugged on her father's hand. "She found Squiggles! The lady found him!"
    In the bed against the window, the boy in traction turned in his sleep, making a moaning sound with his lips.
    "Show Daddy," demanded Sara. "Show Daddy where you put Squiggles."
    Miller pulled on his daughter's hand. "Sara, listen to me. The landlord won't allow cats or dogs, you know that. Maybe we could get fish, but you can't keep this cat."
    "Squiggles needs a home, or he'll get sick and he'll die!"
    "Sara," said Jamie, "your kitten could stay at my place. I've got lots of room." She turned to Sara's father. "Mr. Miller, I'd like to do something for Sara, for you both." She smiled and he didn't exactly frown, so she went on. "I don't have any pets, but I'd love a kitten to look after." She shared a smile with Sara. "I live across the Ballard Bridge from your place, about a ten-minute drive. I thought if the kitten stayed with me, you could come to visit."
    "Yes, Daddy, please!"
    "I'll give you references," said Jamie. "I've lived in Seattle all my life. I'm an artist, a painter. I have an exhibit at Northern Images. You can talk to—Just a minute, I'll write down some names for you." She scrambled in the front pocket of her pack and pulled out a pen and one of the cards Liz had insisted she have printed. "Call Liz Havers—she owns the gallery where my paintings are showing. She's known me since I was twelve years old."
    Mr. Miller said, "You don't need to do this. The police told me the accident wasn't your fault, that it was Sara—"
    "I want to help."
    "Please!" pleaded Sara.
    "Well—" Mr. Miller looked uncomfortable. "I don't need references."
    Jamie wondered if he'd hired Sara's baby-sitter with this same lack of caution, and said, "I'd feel better if you checked me