Part 113 (1/2)

She could still see him, her father, with his head bent over the line of

white powder. ”That doesn't make it right.”

”No.” He leaned his head on hers. ”I guess not.”

The tears came now, hot and fast. ”I didn't want to see him like that.

I didn't want to know. I still love him.”

”I know. He loves you, too. We all do.”

”If I hadn't gone out, if I hadn't wanted to be alone, none of this

would have happened.”

”You wouldn't have seen it, but it would still have been there.” He

kissed her hair. ”Now you just have to accept that he's not perfect.”

”It's not going to be the same, is it, Johnno?” On a sigh, she leaned

against him. ”It's not going to be quite the same ever again.”

New York, 1982

WHAT DO YOU THINK he's going to say?” Marianne hauled her suitcase out

of the cab while Emma paid off the driver.

”I imagine he'll say h.e.l.lo.”

”Come on, Emma.”

Emma pushed back her hair as the late evening wind tugged at it. ”He'll

ask what the h.e.l.l we're doing here, and I'll tell him.”

”Then he'll call your father and we'll be dragged off to the gallows.”

”They don't hang in this state anymore.” Emma picked up her own

suitcase, then drew a deep breath. New York City. It was good to be

back. This time, she intended to stay.

”Gas chamber, firing squad, it's all the same. Your father's going to

kill us both.”

Emma paused with her hand on the k.n.o.b of the lobby door. ”Want to back