Part 74 (1/2)

”I'll make you happy, Angie. Look, I know it can't be easy being

married to someone who's part of what I'm part of. The tours and the

fans and the press. But we can make something for ourselves, just the

two of us, that's ours, only ours.”

”I love what you are,” she told him with complete honesty.

”Then will you? Will you marry me, and start a family?”

”I'll marry you.” She threw her arms around him. A family was a

different matter altogether, she thought as he lowered her to the floor

again. But as the wife of P. M. Ferguson, her career had no place to

go but up.

BRim DIDN'T KNow how much more he could take, kicking around the big

house day after day, sleeping night after night beside a woman who

cringed away from his slightest touch.

He was on the phone nearly every day, hoping Kesseiring could give him

something, anything. He needed a name, a face that he could vent his

helpless fury on.

He had nothing but an empty nursery, and a wife who drifted through the

house like the ghost of the woman he loved.

And Emma. Thank G.o.d for Emma.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he pushed back from the table where

he'd been trying to compose. He knew if it hadn't been for Emma over

the past weeks, he'd have gone insane.

She was grieving too, silently, sadly. Often he sat up with her long

past her bedtime, telling her stories, singing, or just listening. They

could make each other smile, and when they did the pain eased.

He was terrified every moment she was out of the house. Even the