Part 170 (1/2)

”No.” Her fingers bit into his. ”Oh G.o.d, no.”

”I've been sick for weeks. Months really,” he admitted on a sigh. ”I

thought it was a cold, the flu, vitamin deficiency. I didn't want to

face going to the doctor. Then, well, I had to. I didn't accept the

first diagnosis, or the second, or the third.” He laughed, letting his

eyes close again. ”There are some things you can't run away from.”

”There are treatments.” Frantic, she pressed his hand to her cheek and

rocked. ”I've read about treatments, drugs.”

”I'm pumped full of drugs. Some days I feel pretty good.”

”There are clinics.”

”I'm not spending whatever time I've got in a clinic. I sold my house

so I've got some money. I'm going to rent a suite at the Plaza. See

plays, go to movies, museums, the ballet. All the things I haven't had

time to do in the last few years.” He smiled again, touching a finger to

her cheek. ”Sorry about the gla.s.s.”

”Don't worry about it.”

”It looked like Waterford,” he murmured. ”You've always had cla.s.s,

Emma. Don't cry.” His voice tightened as he turned away from the tears

in her eyes.

”I'll clean up the gla.s.s.”

”Don't.” He took her hand again. He so badly needed someone to hold his

hand. ”Just sit for a minute.”

”All right. Luke, you can't give up. Every day they're, oh, I know it

sounds trite,” she said desperately, ”but every day they're coming

closer. There's so much research being done, and the media is making

the public more aware.” She brought his hand back to her cheek. ”They're