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On Sunday morning, Spencer came down to breakfast early, and chatted easily with Justice Barclay and Ian over scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and coffee. Like her mother, Elizabeth ate breakfast in her room, and she didn’t see her future husband until midmorning. Nothing was said about the night before, and she didn’t ask him about Crystal again, but he sensed a strain between them until that evening.

It was their last dinner with her family, and everyone was flying back to New York the next day. And with a sense of panic, Spencer knew there would be no chance for him to go back and see Crystal. He had thought about it all day, and later that afternoon he had made a phone call. And they had told him Harry’s would be open that night. He made a quiet decision then, and he felt terrible lying to Elizabeth, but knew he had to. When he came out of the little room where they kept the phone, he smiled easily and told her he had called a friend from law school.

“Do you want to invite him over for a drink?” She had relaxed again by then. Spencer had been sweet to her all day, and she decided she’d been foolish the night before. She had nothing to worry about, he’d probably had a little too much to drink, and just thought the girl was pretty.

But Spencer shook his head. “I told him I’d drop by after dinner.” But he didn’t invite her to come. She had to pack anyway, and she wanted to talk to her mother about the wedding. They had a lot of plans to make before Elizabeth went back to Vassar.

They had an early dinner, and Spencer’s father toasted her. It was a warm, pleasant time together after a wonderful weekend. But the wedding seemed aeons away. She hated the thought of having to finish the year at school, even though Spencer insisted that it would go quickly.

Spencer left the house at nine o’clock, and took a cab to the restaurant. He sat silently, staring out the window as they drove, feeling desperately guilty. He had just gotten engaged, and now he was running off to see another girl. It was the kind of thing he couldn’t even imagine doing to her, and yet he knew he had to see Crystal before he left, or at least try to. Maybe she had changed even more than he thought, maybe she was just a very lovely bumpkin, or maybe she had become a harlot. He wanted her to be, he wanted her to be cheap and boring and stupid. He wanted her to be none of the things he had dreamed she was. And he wanted finally to be able to forget her. But before he could, he had to see her again, just once, he told himself as he paid the fare and walked quickly into Harry’s.

He ordered a Scotch, and waited for her to come on again. He had decided not to approach her until after she sang. He wanted to hear her sing one more time. And
when she came out, she took his breath away again. She sang to his soul as he sat and watched her. And when she left the stage, he asked the headwaiter to take her a note. In it he reminded her of their meetings in the Alexander Valley, at her sister’s wedding and then the christening of their baby. It was odd realizing suddenly that she might not even remember him. But she came into the restaurant, and stood looking at him for an instant, looking as though she had seen a ghost, and as he stood up, he knew instantly that she had carried the memory for years, just as he had. She was wearing a plain white silk dress, and with her long pale hair spread over her shoulders, she looked like an angel. She stood looking at him for a long time before she spoke. Her voice was deeper than he remembered it, and she was tall and graceful, but he had never seen eyes quite like hers, eyes so full of love and pain, the eyes of a doe, he remembered now, emerging slowly from the forest. He held out a hand to her, and as she took it in her own, he thought he would melt at her touch. He had to force himself to let her go. All he wanted was to reach out and hold her. It was the same feeling she’d evoked in him before, but she had been barely more than a child then.

“Hello, Crystal.” He could feel his voice shake as he spoke, and he wondered if she heard it. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She smiled at him shyly. “I … I didn’t think you remembered me.” He had thought the same, and he didn’t tell her he had never forgotten.

“Of course I remember you.” He tried to treat her as a child, but it didn’t work anymore. There was nothing childish about Crystal now in the close-fitting dress Pearl had helped her pick out with the money Harry had given them for “costumes.” And it had paid off. People were
starting to come to the restaurant, just to see Crystal. “Can you sit down for a little while?”

“Sure.” She took a seat next to his, she didn’t have to go on again until midnight.

“When did you come to San Francisco?” He was trying to remember how old she was, but figured that she couldn’t be much more than eighteen, although now she looked a great deal older. And he knew instinctively that life hadn’t been kind to her. He could hear it in the way she sang, and now he saw it in her eyes as she answered. There was something hidden there, something terrible and painful, and he felt it without her saying anything, as though he knew, and had always known everything about her. It was as though she were a part of him. And just as he had two years before, he felt irresistibly drawn to her. It was exactly what he had been afraid of.

“I came here last spring,” she answered. “I was waiting on tables then, but I’ve been singing all summer.”

“You’re even better than I remembered.”

“Thank you.” She felt shy with him. All she wanted was to just sit there and feel him near her. “It’s easy. I guess because I like it.” But their words seemed to be nothing. They kept looking at each other, each wondering what the other was thinking. He couldn’t stop himself then, he had to know how she was, and why he felt that something had happened to her.

“Are you all right?” His voice was gentle, and she was touched by his question. No one ever asked her that, not the way he had. No one had in a long, long time, and it brought tears to her eyes as she nodded.

“I’m okay.”

And then, sensing that there was more, “What made you move to San Francisco?”

She hesitated for a long moment, and then sighed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, and for an instant
she looked like a child again, the same girl who had talked to him from the swing in another place, another lifetime. “My father died. It changed a lot of things for me.”

“Did your mom sell the ranch?”

She shook her head, and almost choked on the next words. “No, Tom runs it now.”

“And your brother?” Spencer still remembered him, a shaggy-haired boy with long legs, who liked to tease his sister. He remembered him pulling Crystal’s hair, and her slugging him, but all in good fun. They had both seemed like children then, but no longer.

“Jared died last spring.” She could hardly say the words as Spencer stared at her. Things had been hard, but she didn’t tell him just how much harder. Or how Jared had died. Or why. That it had been her fault. She still felt that way about it.

“I’m sorry … was it an accident?” He couldn’t have been sick. He was too young. Spencer’s heart went out to her as she hesitated again, and then nodded. She was looking at her hands so as not to look at him, and then slowly she raised her eyes and he almost fell backward from the strength of what he saw there. It was anger and hatred and fear, and lost dreams. It was powerful stuff, and he quietly took her hand in his own and held it.

“Tom shot him.” Her eyes bored into him like streaks of lightning.

“My God … were they hunting together? What happened?”

“No.” She shook her head slowly, she couldn’t tell him everything. She couldn’t tell him Tom had raped her. She had never told anyone except Boyd and Hiroko, and she knew she never would again. She would have to live with the shame of it for a lifetime. “It was my fault.” She spoke quietly. The guilt was too strong even to let her
cry. “Something happened between me and Tom, and I went a little crazy.” She took a breath, as though fighting for air, and Spencer held her hand even more tightly. “I went after him with my father’s rifle. Tom took a shot at me, and it hit Jared.”

“Oh, my God …” He looked at her in horror, barely daring to imagine what might have driven her to go after her brother-in-law with her father’s gun. And then understanding instantly the guilt she still carried with her.

“The sheriff said Jared died of accidental causes. And I left a few days after he was buried.” She said it so simply, except that the course of her life had been changed forever. While he was going to parties in Washington, and Lake Tahoe and Palm Beach, Crystal had lost her father and her brother. It was horrifying to think about it, and he was impressed that she had survived it at all, and grateful that he had found her in San Francisco.

“My Mom and I were on bad terms anyway after my father died. And now I guess she thinks I killed Jared. In a way, I did. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone after Tom but …” Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She knew she couldn’t explain it to him. But as he listened, he longed to kiss and hold her. “My mother and I never got along. I think she hated me for being so close to my father.”

“Have you heard from her since you left?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s all over.” She smiled bravely. “I’m here now. This is my life. That’s the past. I have to think about what I’m doing here. I can’t look back. I left all that. It’s all gone now.”

She looked quietly up at Spencer. And then she wondered if he’d seen the Websters. “Have you seen Boyd and Hiroko?”

He shook his head guiltily, this was twice now he hadn’t managed to get to the valley. “No, I haven’t. I
meant to, but I was only here for a few days. Are they all right, or do you know?”

She smiled sadly at him, and he felt his insides turn to mush again. She had been an incredible child, and she had become an incredible woman. There was a sensuality about her that shrieked at him, a gentleness and femininity that made him want to stay beside her always and protect her, and yet an amazing strength too. It was her strength that had helped her survive. “I had a letter from Hiroko last week. She’s expecting another baby. I guess they want a boy this time, but Jane is so sweet.” She told him a few stories about their child, and then she had to go on again, and he promised to wait for her. He could have talked to her for hours. He didn’t want to leave her. Ever again. He sensed that she needed him. And he wanted to be there for her.

She seemed to be singing just for him this time, her voice reaching into him like wanton fingers. There was a sexiness about her mixed with innocence that made men want to reach out and touch her. It was almost one o’clock when she came off the stand and they talked for another hour until the place closed and he offered to take her home. He waited while she changed, and it was like a glimpse into the past again when she came out in a wool skirt and a white blouse and a plaid jacket she had found in a thrift shop. She looked like a little girl again, but the eyes that looked into his were those of a woman. The woman he had dreamed about for three years and had never forgotten. The woman who had dreamed of him, always knowing how much she loved him.

He walked her slowly back to the place where she still rented a room from Mrs. Castagna, and they stood outside for a long time, talking about his life in New York, his friends, anything in order to keep her there, and then,
as though it was what they both had been waiting for all night, he reached out and pulled her close and kissed her.

“Spencer …” Her voice was a whisper in the cold night air as he held her close as much to keep her warm as to feel her near him, “I've dreamed about you all these years … sometimes I would pretend to myself that if you’d been there, everything would have been different.” But she had survived it, even without him. He respected that about her. And she was making something of herself. He wondered if she still dreamed of going to Hollywood, but he didn’t ask her.

“I wish I had been there.” He turned her face up to his with a gentle finger under her chin, “I never forgot you. I’ve thought about you lots of times … I just never thought you’d remember me either. I figured you’d be different, or maybe even married by now,” that had been his last fantasy. He had never thought he would find her alone, singing in a nightclub in San Francisco, and he marveled at the hand of fate, which had led him to her. He might have gone back to New York without ever knowing she was there, without seeing her. But now that he had, he had no idea what to do about it. He had come to San Francisco to get engaged to Elizabeth Barclay. And now he was standing outside a house on Green Street, falling in love with Crystal Wyatt.

“I love you, Spencer.” She whispered the words, as though she was afraid she would never have the chance again, and he felt his heart melt. How could he tell her about the girl he was going to marry?

He folded her into his arms and kept her close to him. He wanted to keep her there forever. “I love you too … oh God, Crystal … I love you. …” How could he say that to her? He couldn’t promise her anything, all he could do was hold on to her for one brief moment, and then go back to New York with Elizabeth the next morning.
Or did he have to do that at all? Why couldn’t he have Crystal instead? There was nothing wrong with that. For one bright shining moment, he knew with total certainty that he had always loved her. And no matter what it cost him now, he had to tell her. “I’ve loved you since the first time I met you.” It felt good just saying the words to her, as though he had waited three years to find her and tell her. Nothing else mattered now. Nothing, and no one.