Changes (17 page)

The flight to New York passed uneventfully, as Mel took out a notebook and jotted down notes about the past few days while they were still fresh in her mind. There were a number of things she wanted to touch on in her commentary on the piece. Then at last, feeling drained, she closed the book and lay her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The stewardess had offered her cocktails, wine, or champagne several times, but she had declined. She wanted to be left alone with her own thoughts, and after a while she drifted off to sleep for the last few hours of the flight. The trip from west to east always went too quickly to get much rest, with tail winds pushing the plane along, they made it to New York easily in just under five hours. She woke again with the sound of the landing announcement in her ears, and a stewardess touching her arm, asking her to fasten her seat belt before they would land.

“Thank you.” She looked up at the stewardess sleepily and stifled a yawn, as she fastened her seat belt and then opened her bag to take out a comb. She felt as though she had been wearing the same clothes for days, and wondered again if she would find her suitcase waiting for her in New York. It seemed aeons since she had almost gotten on the plane in L.A. some thirty hours before, and been stopped by Peter's call. And then her mind drifted back to him again. His face seemed to come alive before her again as she closed her eyes, and then forced herself to open them again as she felt the plane land on the runway in New York. She was home. And she had a mountain of work to do for the news and on the film she had done of him and Pattie Lou, and she had lots to do with the girls as well. She had her own life to lead, and yet there was the oddest feeling of regret to be back. She wished she could have stayed longer in L.A., but there was no need, and she could never have explained it to the network in New York.

She found her bag waiting for her in the special-services area of baggage claim, picked it up, walked outside and hailed a cab, and headed for New York City at full speed. There was no traffic at all at six thirty in the morning, and the sun shot darts of gold across the sky, which was reflected on the windows of the skyscrapers that lined the view. As they came across the bridge and headed south on the East River Drive, she felt something stir in her again. New York always did that to her. It was a splendid town. And suddenly it wasn't so bad to be home again. This was where she belonged. It was her town. And as she smiled to herself, she noticed the driver watching her in his rearview mirror with a curious look. As she often did to strangers, she looked familiar to him, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he had had her in the cab before, he thought to himself, or she was the wife of some important man, a politician or a movie star and he'd seen her in the news. He knew he'd seen that face somewhere before, but he wasn't quite sure where.

“Been away long?” He continued to search his mind as he looked at her.

“Just a few days, on the West Coast.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning right at Seventy-ninth and heading west. “I been out there once. But there ain't no place like New York.”

She smiled. New Yorkers were a breed unto themselves, loyal to the end, despite dog poop, debris, crime in the streets, pollution, overpopulation, and the city's myriad failings and sins. Nonetheless, it had a quality one found nowhere else, a certain electricity that touched one to the very core. And she could feel it even now, as she watched the city come alive, as they sped through its streets.

“It's a great town.” He voiced his passion for his hometown again, and Mel nodded her head.

“It sure is.” And suddenly it really was good to be back, and a happy feeling stirred her soul, as they pulled up in front of her house. And she was excited about seeing the girls again. She paid the cab, carried her bag inside, set it down in the front hall, and bounded upstairs to see her girls. They were both asleep, and she walked quietly into Jessica's room and sat down on the bed, and looked at her. Her flame-colored hair was spread out on the pillow like a dark red sheet, and she stirred as she heard her mother's voice and opened one eye. “Hi, lazybones.” She bent down and kissed her cheek, and Jessie smiled.

“Hi, Mom. You're home.” She sat up and stretched and then hugged her mother with a sleepy smile. “How was the trip?”

“Okay. It feels good to be back.” And this time she meant what she said. It did feel good. She had left California behind, along with Peter Hallam, and Marie Dupret, and Center City Hospital, and all that she had done since she left New York. “We did a terrific film.”

“Did you watch them operate?” Jessie was instantly intrigued. She would have given anything to have seen that, although her twin would have blanched at the thought.

“I did. I stayed to watch them do a transplant last night … no, the night before …” The time was all confused now in her head and she smiled. “Whenever it was, it was a success. It was extraordinary, Jess.”

“Can I see the film?”

“Of course. You can come down to the station before we air the piece.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She climbed slowly out of bed, her long legs seeming longer beneath a short pink nightshirt, and Melanie left the room to see the other twin. In her room, Valerie was buried in her bed, fast asleep, and it took several gentle shoves and taps to rouse her at all. Melanie finally had to pull the blanket away from her and tug at the sheets, until at last Val woke up with a sleepy growl.

“Cut it out, Jess …” And then she opened her eyes and saw Melanie instead. She looked surprised and confused, forgetting that her mother was due back. “How come you're home?”

“That's a nice welcome home. Last I heard, I live here.”

Valerie grinned sleepily and turned over on her side. “I forgot you were coming back today.”

“So what were you planning to do? Sleep all day and cut school?” She didn't really worry about that, about either of them, although Valerie was sometimes the less conscientious of the two.

“That's a nice idea. After all, school's almost out.”

“Then what do you say you hang in for a couple more weeks?”

“Awww Mom …” She tried to go back to sleep and Melanie tickled her instead. “Stop that!” She sat up with a shriek, defending herself against Mel's nimble hands. She knew all the places that tickled Valerie most, and a minute later they were laughing and Val was still shrieking as Jessica wandered into the room, and with a single bound, she leapt into the bed, and helped Mel out, and a minute later there was a pillow fight, which Valerie started in her own defense, and the three of them lay on the bed after a while, laughing and breathless, and Mel felt her heart soar. Whatever she did, wherever she went, it was always so good to come home to them. And almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she found herself thinking of Pam in Los Angeles, and how different her life was from all this. How much she would have benefited from a life like the twins', and how lonely she was. Over breakfast, once the twins were dressed, she told them about the Hallam kids, especially Pam, and they seemed sorry for her when Mel explained to them about Anne's death.

“That must really be rough on her.” The more compassionate of the two, Val was the first to express concern, and then she grinned. “And what's her brother like? I'll bet he's cute.”

“Val …” Jessie said it with a disapproving glance. “That's all you think about anymore.”

“So what? I'll bet he is.”

“Who cares? He doesn't live here. There are probably a lot of cute boys in L.A. What's that going to do for you in New York?” Jessie looked annoyed as she glanced at Val, and Mel was amused.

She addressed her younger daughter as she finished her tea. “Does that mean you've exhausted the supply in New York?”

Val laughed. “There's always room for one more.”

“I don't know how you keep their names straight.”

“I don't think she does,” Jessica was quick to add. In that one area, she disapproved of Val's style. Jess was more like Mel that way, independent, cool, cautious about getting involved with boys—too cautious at times—and it even worried Mel. Her life-style had clearly left its mark on the older twin. Maybe even on both. Perhaps that was why Val was always so anxious
not
to be without a beau. She didn't want to end up like Mel. “She just oohs and coos and smiles at them all in the halls at school, and I don't think they even care if she forgets their names.” It was more disapproval than jealousy at times like this, as Mel knew. Val's passion for the opposite sex seemed trivial to Jess, who frequently had more important projects of an intellectual or scientific bent on her mind, but she had her share of boyfriends too, as Mel reminded her gently when Val left the room, to get her books for school. “I know. But she acts like she doesn't have any sense. It's all she thinks about, Mom.”

“She'll get over it in a few years.”

“Yeah.” Jessie shrugged. “Maybe.” And then they hurried off to school on Ninety-first Street, off Fifth, ten blocks away, and Melanie was left to gather her thoughts and unpack. She wanted to get to the station early that day to sort through her notes, and she had just stepped out of the shower at ten o'clock, when the phone rang, and she picked it up, still dripping wet. It was Grant, and she smiled to hear his voice.

“So you're back. I was beginning to think you'd left for good.”

“Nothing quite so dramatic as that. Although the last day was fairly dramatic, in a different way. They found a donor for a transplant patient that was barely hanging on, and I missed my plane and went back to watch the surgery.”

“Your stomach is infinitely stronger than mine.”

“I'm not so sure about that, but it was fascinating to watch.” And again a vision of Peter flashed into her mind. “It was a good trip all in all, and how are you?”

“No change. I called the girls a few times to make sure they were all right, and they were fine. I can't keep up with their social lives, I'm afraid.”

“Neither can I. But you were nice to call.”

“I told you I would.” He sounded happy to hear her voice, and she was equally so to hear his. “How'd the little girl do?”

“Great. She looked brand-new the last time I saw her at the hospital. It's just amazing, Grant.”

“And the good doctor who did it all? Was he amazing too?” It was as though he already sensed what she felt, but she felt foolish admitting her feelings to him. She was too old for that. Sudden attractions like that were better left to Val.

“He was an interesting man.”

“That's all? One of the foremost cardiac surgeons in the country, and that's all you have to say?” And then suddenly he grinned. He knew her too well. “Or is it that there's more?”

“There isn't more. I just had a very hectic few days.” She wanted to keep her feelings about Peter Hallam to herself. There was no point sharing them with anyone, not even Grant. Most likely she would never see him again, and the words were better left unsaid.

“Well, when you settle down, Mel, give me a call, and we'll go have drinks sometime.”

“You're on.” But she didn't even feel like doing that right now. She was in her own private haze and she didn't feel like emerging from it yet.

“See you later, kid.” And then after a moment's pause. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Thanks, me too.” But it was a lie. Even the excitement of being back in New York didn't woo her this time.

As she left the house, she glanced at her watch, and saw that it was eleven o'clock. Peter would be in surgery by then. And suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to call the hospital and inquire about Marie, but she had to retreat back into her professional life now. She couldn't take on all their problems as though they were her own, Marie's heart, Peter's kids, Pam's empty, lonely life, little Matthew with the big blue eyes … suddenly she found herself longing for them again. And pushing them determinedly from her head, she hailed a cab and sailed downtown, looking at the city that she loved, as people scurried into Bloomingdale's and down into the ground to catch the subway, hailed cabs, or rushed in and out of skyscrapers on their way to work. It was like being part of a movie just being there, and she felt buoyant and alive, even with almost no sleep, as she walked into the newsroom with a happy smile.

“What's with you?” The story editor growled at her as he rushed past, carrying two cans of film.

“I'm happy to be back.”

He shook his head, muttering, as he disappeared. “Fool.”

She found a stack of mail on her desk, memos, summaries of major news items she'd missed while she was gone, and went out into the hall to watch the Teletypes coming in for a while. There had been an earthquake in Brazil, a flood in Italy that had killed a hundred and sixty-four people, the President was going down to the Bahamas for a long weekend to fish. The news of the day didn't look overwhelmingly bad or good, and when her secretary came to tell her that there was a call for her, she went back into her office and picked up the phone without sitting down, and answered absentmindedly, glancing at the memos on her desk.

“Adams here.”

There was a moment's pause, as though she'd thrown someone off with the brusque words, and she heard a long-distance purr. But she didn't even have time to wonder who it was. “Is this a bad time?” She recognized the voice instantly and sat down, surprised to hear from him. Maybe, with some time to think in her absence, he was getting worried about the piece.

“Not at all. How are you?” Her voice was soft and at his end he felt the same mysterious stirring he'd felt in his soul since they met.

“I'm fine. I finished surgery early today and thought I'd call to make sure you got back all right. Did you find your bag in New York?” He sounded nervous, and she was pleased by the call.

“I did. How's Marie?” Maybe he had called to give her bad news.

“She's doing beautifully. She asked for you today in fact. And so did Pattie Lou. She's the real star around here.”

Mel felt tears sting her eyes, and suddenly once again she felt the same ache she'd felt on the plane, of wanting to be in L.A. and not New York. “Tell her I send my love. Maybe when she's feeling a little better, I'll give her a call.”