Barbara Delinsky - T.L.C.

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3 The fire snapped and sizzled then quieted, and for what seemed like an eternity, silence yawned in the darkness between them. Knowing that he didn't have all the answers made him seem a bit less powerful, which in turn made her feel a bit less helpless.

Without deliberate intent, she began to relax. She also began to feel sleepy, but then suddenly it seemed important that she tell him something.

?Brice??she whispered, rushing on before he could answer. ?I didn't mean to hurt Rowena. It was so dark that night. I honestly didn't see her. If I could take back what happened, I'd do it in a minute. In a minute. You have no idea-?Her voice cracked. She stopped. When Brice said nothing, she turned over, closed her eyes and prayed that he'd believe her.

For some reason, that mattered to her very much.

?Barbara Delinsky knows the human heart and its immense capacity to love and to believe.?

-Washington (PA) Observer-Reporter

4 Also available from MIRA Books and BARBARA DELINSKY

THROUGH MY EYES

CARDINAL RULES

MONTANA MAN

THE DREAM

THE DREAM UNFOLDS

THE DREAM COMES TRUE

HAVING FAITH

THE OUTSIDER

THE REAL THING

CHANCES ARE

THE STUD

DREAMS

TWELVE ACROSS

Coming soon

FIRST, BEST AND ONLY September 2001

DELINSKY

^T.L.O*

MIRA*

6 If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as ?unsold and destroyed?to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this ?stripped book.?

MIRA

ISBN 1-55166-822-X

T.L.C.

Copyright 1987 by Barbara Delinsky.

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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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7 Under normal circumstances, Karen Drew would have found the article intriguing. She was a devoted armchair traveler-the more exotic the locale the better-and the tropical Seychelles, with their gentle breezes and sun-tipped turquoise seas, sounded perfectly idyllic compared to upstate New York in February.

Today, though, visions of coco-de-mer palms, giant tortoises and white sand beaches just weren't doing it for her. Her energies were concentrated on seeing the words on the magazine page, speaking them aloud in a relatively normal manner and, in the process, breathing as little as possible on Rowena Carlin.

Karen was sick. She'd been fighting a cold for nearly three weeks. It had flared up, died down, looked to be going away, only to rear its stubborn head in renewed bouts of sniffling and coughing. Now it had settled in her chest. No battery of antihistamines, decongestants or expectorants was budging it. Though Karen had fortified herself enough to temporarily mask the symptoms, each breath she took was an effort.

She couldn't afford to be sick. Thought of it sent her into a tailspin. Midterms were coming. Even with

Barbara Delinsky

out those, she had research to do for Professor McGuire and, even beyond that, tables to wait at the Pepper Mill. Paychecks weren't given for nothing, and Karen needed the money. So she'd spent the last three weeks ignoring the germ that plagued her. Unfortunately, it wasn't going away. It had slowly but surely sapped her, leaving her fighting for the tiniest shreds of energy.

On the tail of one such shred, she shifted the glossy magazine from which she'd been reading onto the plaid blanket that covered the older woman's small lap. ?See, Rowena??she asked. ?Isn't it beautiful??

Rowena, who had been raptly studying Karen's face, lowered her eyes to look at the magazine, but no sooner did they reach their destination than they started right back up again. The look they held made Karen brace herself. If she'd learned one thing in the eight months she'd been visiting Rowena, it was that the woman missed very little and let even less pass without comment.

Rowena was eighty-one and sharp. A spinal injury had hindered her mobility, a subsequent stroke had affected her speech. Nothing, though, had affected her mind-or her eyes, which said far more far faster than her tongue could. Those eyes held concern even as the small, wizened mouth went to work.

?S-s-something is...wrong,?she announced. Her speech was faltering, yet far better than it had been even three months before. Karen was amazed at her improvement-both in speech and movement. Rowena approached physical therapy with a will to sue

ceed, and she was doing just that. The fact that her arms and legs were slowly coming back to life was a tribute to sheer determination. Karen followed her example and answered as confidently as she could.

?No, no. Nothing's wrong.?

?Y-y-you're under the...w-w-weather.?

Karen crinkled her nose and gave a quick shake of her head, which was a mistake. When her head turned right, her awareness stayed left, and when her head turned left, she felt as though she'd bumped into herself at the pass. The air in the small parlor seemed suddenly warmer.

It was a minute before she regained her equilibrium and a minute after that before she quelled the urge to cough. When she spoke, her voice was husky. ?I'm just a little tired. It's a busy time. Midterms begin in two weeks.?She paused when she saw Rowena's mouth working again. Patiently she waited, giving the woman the time she needed to form the words.

?Will y-y-you have a rest...then??

If only, Karen thought. ?A little,?she said. ?I'll have two weeks without classes, so it'll just be a matter of working.?

?F-f-for...McGuire??

?Uh-huh.?

' 'And the... r-r-restaurant?''

?That's right.?

?Karen??

?Uh-huh??

?Take a...v-v-vacation.?

Karen's eyes held a wistful look. ?I wish I could.?

Barbara Delinsky

''Y-y-you... can if... you... want.''

?No. My hours at the restaurant will be shortened since most of the customers will be gone, but I'm committed to working full-time for Professor meGuire during those weeks.?

?And visiting me. It's...t-t-too much.?

?But I enjoy visiting you.?

?D-d-do you enjoy...y-y-your work, too??

Karen desperately wanted to say that she did, but she couldn't do so unequivocally. While she found her work for Professor McGuire to be intellectually rewarding, the only reward she gleaned from her work at the Pepper Mill was a pocketful of tips. The restaurant was heavily patronized by students, and deep down, she had trouble dealing with them. Some were in her classes; others she knew only in passing. Theoretically, she might have shared in the camaraderie.

But she didn't. For one thing, there was the age difference. At twenty-nine, she was a good ten years older than many of them. For another, there was the socioeconomic difference. These were wealthy kids. They weren't working two jobs on top of classes, as she was. They weren't living on shoestring budgets in small rooms off campus, either; they were well enough off to pass up the dining hall food their parents paid for in favor of regular meals at the Pepper Mill.