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from my job yesterday. I have two weeks'
notice to work out. I can't afford not to work those two weeks, and I have to find
another job."
                  He whistled through his teeth. "You had a
bitch of a day, didn't you?" She had to laugh, in spite of the seriousness
of the situation, "That's a good description of it, yes." The longer
she knew Frank Payne, the more she liked him. There was nothing outstanding
about him: he was of medium height, medium weight, with graying brown hair and
clear gray eyes. His face was pleasant, but not memorable. Yet there was a
steadiness in him that she sensed and trusted. He looked thoughtful. "It's
possible we can do something about your situation. Let me check into it before
you book a flight back. Would you like a chance to tell your boss to go take a
flying leap?"
                  Jay gave him a very sweet smile, and this time
he was the one who laughed. It wasn't until later that she realized the request
meant they were certain Steve would live. She was back in Steve's room,
standing by his bed, and she gently squeezed his arm as relief filled her.
"You're going to make it," she whispered. It was almost sundown, and she
had spent most of the day standing beside his bed. Several times a nurse or an
orderly had requested that she step outside, but except for that and the time
she had spent with Frank at lunch, she had been with Steve. She had talked
until her throat was dry, talked until she couldn't think of anything else to
say and silence had fallen again, but even then she had kept her hand on his
arm. Maybe he knew she was there.
                  A nurse came in and gave Jay a curious look
but didn't ask her to leave the room. Instead she checked the monitors and made
notes on a pad. "It's odd," she murmured. "But maybe not.
Somehow I think our boy knows when you're here. His heartbeat is stronger and
his respiration rate settles down if you're here with him. When you left for
lunch his vital signs deteriorated, then picked back up when you returned. I've
noticed the same thing happen every time we've asked you to leave the room.
Major Lunning is going to be interested in these charts." Jay stared at
the nurse, then at Steve. "He knows I'm here?"
                  "Not consciously," the nurse said
hastily. "He isn't going to wake up and talk to you, not with the
barbiturate dose he's getting. But who knows what he senses? You've been
talking to him all day, haven't you? Part of it must be getting through, on
some level. You must be really important to him, for him to respond to you like
this."
                  The nurse left the room. Stunned, Jay looked
back at Steve. Even if he somehow sensed her presence, why would it affect him
like that? Yet she couldn't ignore the nurse's theory, because she had noticed
herself that the rhythm of his breathing had changed. It was almost impossible
for her to believe, because Steve had never needed her in any way. He had
enjoyed her for a time, but something in him had kept her at a small but
significant distance. Because he couldn't return love of any depth, he hadn't
allowed himself to accept a deep love. All Steve had ever wanted was a
superficial sort of relationship, a light, playful love that could end with no
regrets. Theirs had ended in just that way, and she had seldom thought of him
after they had parted. Why should she be important to him now?
                  Then she gave a low laugh as understanding
came to her. Steve wasn't responding to her, he was responding to a touch and a
voice meant for him personally, rather than the impartial, automatic touches
and words of the healers surrounding him. Anyone else would have done just as
well. Frank Payne could have stood there and talked to him with the same
result.
                  She said as much an hour later, when Major
Lunning studied the charts and stroked his jaw, occasionally glancing at her
with a thoughtful