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Part 21

Anne Elliot, you are a woman with a serious problem.

Actually, Anne corrected herself, she had a lot of problems. Most of them revolved around some unresolved issues with her family and friends, but at the moment, those weren't the ones on her mind. The serious problem she had was a clothing problem.

Anne had packed plenty of clothes----her skating costume, a backup costume in case something happened to the first one, practice clothes, grungy clothes to wear on long bus trips, and neat, sensible clothes to wear when everyone went out to eat. She had nothing, however, which might be considered dressy. She certainly didn't have anything she would be comfortable wearing on what might the first date she'd been on in...well, in quite a while.

You're being silly. This isn't a date. The man just wants to represent you professionally. He has absolutely no interest in you as a woman, no matter what you thought.

In spite of telling herself this about a hundred times since she'd met Bill Ellison, Anne hadn't quite been able to bring herself to let go of the hope that maybe it could be something more. She had no idea why that was, but she didn't intend to analyze it to death. All she knew was that the brief note that had been left upon her arrival at the hotel, which asked her to join him for dinner instead of coffee, had made her heart pound a little harder.

Which brought her back to her immediate problem. She had a...well, what might be a date, and nothing to wear. If it hadn't been happening to her, she would've laughed because it was such a cliché.

Anne had never been big on shopping. Most of her clothes were serviceable and ordinary, except her costumes, which were designed especially for her. She had very little to do with choosing those. So the thought of going shopping for a particular outfit, especially when she wasn't sure what she was looking for, was almost terrifying.

In the past, Anne would've called Susan and asked for her advice. Susan would've known what to do, where to go, what to get. When she thought on this, she felt a sharp and unexpected ache in her heart. She missed Susan more than she wanted to admit. She was furious with herself because she did. She told herself that maybe if she hadn't been so reliant on Susan in the first place, she wouldn't have messed things up so badly with Frederick.

Her hands itched to pick up a telephone and call Susan. Anne thought she hated herself more for that than she did for missing her.

Since she couldn't call Susan, Anne was left with no clue about what she should wear.

Oh, for God's sake. You're nearly twenty-eight years old. You've won a gold medal, broken with your lifelong friend and coach, survived your mother's death and your father's betrayal. Shopping is not that big a deal.

With a determined nod of her head, Anne grabbed her room key and stuffed it into her purse. Slinging the purse over her shoulder, she marched out the door and toward the elevator.

She fiddled with her purse strap as she waited for the elevator to stop on her floor. She tried to picture herself in several different outfits, but all she kept seeing was her face. Anne was almost grateful when she heard the ding of the elevator stopping and the doors opening up.

"Anne!" Charlotte Denny started to get off the elevator. "Hi."

"Hello," Anne replied politely, walking into the elevator. She pushed the button to take her to the ground floor. The doors started to close.

Before they could, Charlotte stuck an arm against one, stopping the doors from closing. She stepped back into the elevator. "You're looking nervous," she said.

"I'm fine," Anne lied.

"You're not nervous about getting into an elevator after what happened a few days ago, are you?"

"After..." Then Anne remembered...she'd been stuck with Hannah and Lizzy in the elevator. Had that really just been a few days ago? It seemed like a lifetime. "Oh, no. I was the first day or so, but I told myself that I'd ridden in hundreds, if not thousands, of elevators before that and had never had a problem. Chances were that I wouldn't again. I'm fine, thanks."

"Oh. Okay."

The doors shut and the elevator started to make its' descent. Anne frowned. "I thought you were getting off on that floor," she said.

"I was, but I couldn't help but notice that worried look in your eyes." Charlotte smiled. "I'm one of the world's nosiest people. Just ask anyone who knows me. I hate to see people unhappy."

Anne nodded hesitantly. "I would've thought that..." She blushed and realized what she had been about to say.

"You would've thought I had bigger things to worry about than someone else? Maybe you're right. But this tendency I have of worrying about others flares up worse when there's turmoil in my own life. Look at it as an escape hatch. So, what seems to be the problem?"

"It's nothing, really." Anne didn't want to tell her because compared to Charlotte's problems, not having an outfit to wear was beyond trivial.

"It's obviously something, or you wouldn't be worried."

"I think I have a date, and I've brought nothing suitable to wear."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "A date? With whom?"

"Uh, well, his name is Bill Ellison. He's a----"

"Sports agent," Charlotte finished before Anne could. "I know who he is. I considered signing with him but in the end felt it would be simpler for me to do things myself. He's good. A real shark, from what I hear."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Anne asked, not sure she liked the sound of "shark."

"A good thing if you're his client. A bad thing if you're someone trying to acquire his client's services." Charlotte gave her a reassuring look. "I wouldn't worry about anything. I've met him a few times and he seems nice enough...for an agent."

"Oh."

"Why do you 'think' you have a date?"

"Well, I know I'm being foolish, but...I got the sense from the way we first met and talked that he...sort of liked me. We were originally supposed to meet for coffee when the tour arrived in Philadelphia but he asked if we could have dinner tonight instead."

"That sounds like a date to me," Charlotte said. "And you're worried because you don't have anything to wear."

"I didn't think I would be going out on dates while I was skating, or else I would've brought something. What is should do is just wear something sensible----I have plenty of sensible clothes----but if this is a date, I don't think 'sensible' is the way to go."

"So you're on your way to go shopping to find something nicer than sensible."

"Yes." Anne sighed. "When you put it like that, it sounds even sillier than I thought."

"No, it doesn't. It's...well, excuse me for using the word, but it's sensible." Charlotte smiled. "And I know just where to go for something nice."

"Oh, no, I couldn't ask you to do that. I'm sure you've got other things to do..."

"Nonsense. The only thing I'm doing at the moment is hiding from the press and wishing there were some way to magically erase past mistakes. Carl's hiding with Rich and Fitz, who are on the lookout for those trolls who were after Georgiana earlier today."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to take you away from anything."

"Absolutely. The only thing you're taking me away from is a good book and a box of chocolate cherries." Charlotte looked guilty. "And the last thing I need is chocolate cherries, so you're actually doing me a favor."

Anne was about to ask her again if she was absolutely sure when she heard herself say, "Great. I could use some advice."

Frederick lay face-down on his bed, all the guilt he shoved aside in order to skate catching up to him. He turned his head to one side in order to avoid suffocating and stared blankly at the wall. He was still calling himself ten different kinds of insensitive jerk for leaving Hannah behind in Boston before she'd awakened.

Why had he let Jamie talk him into leaving? Why hadn't he insisted on staying? Why had he taken the easy way out?

Frederick closed his eyes and hoped that maybe when he opened them, the phone would ring. And it would be Jamie, calling him to let him know that Hannah had come out of the coma and was fine. Frederick was afraid that the longer she was out, the less likely it would be that she would ever wake up again.

But closing his eyes didn't help. All he could see was Hannah's body hurtling into Lizzy. All he remembered was wanting to touch her and hold her, and not being able to because he might hurt her worse than she already was. And it was all his fault.

He raised himself up to his elbows by sheer force of will, reaching for the telephone. He dialed a number he knew better than his own and waited for Jamie to answer.

"Hello?"

"James, it's Frederick."

Jamie groaned. "God, Freddie, not again. This is the fourth time today you've called. She hasn't come around."

"Jamie, I can't do it. I have to come back. I have to be there if...when she wakes up. She has to see me. I should never have let you talk me into going."

"We've had this discussion...let me think...ten times now. And every time, we get back to the same conclusion, which is that you're better off where you are at the moment."

"That's because I keep letting you talk me into staying." Frederick rested his head on his free hand, trying to ward off the massive headache he knew was coming. "She's my girlfriend, no matter what problems we may be having at the moment, and I should be there with her."

"But you can't be here. Hell, Freddie, you're driving me mad and you're hundreds of miles away. If you come back, you'll alienate every doctor and nurse until they drag you off to an asylum."

"Would it be at that hospital? As long as it was at that hospital, I'd go. At least I'd be near Hannah."

Frederick heard Jamie growl. "If I so much as see you lurking in these halls, I'll claim you've been stalking Hannah and have you thrown out."

It took Jamie another twenty minutes before Frederick conceded that it was for the best that he stay where he was and Jamie stay with Hannah. Jamie had sworn that he'd already called Hannah's parents and had given them an update on their daughter's condition. "They don't call nearly as often as you do," he'd said pointedly.

As Frederick hung up the phone, he realized what his problem was. It was the feeling of total helplessness that bothered him more than anything. There was nothing he could do to help her. Not only that, but there was the lingering tension that would flare up when she awakened. They still had a lot of things to work out, and not being able to do that was frustrating as hell.

Then there was the guilt. Guilt because he wasn't there. Guilt because they'd fought and she'd ended up in the hospital as an indirect result. Guilt because despite it all, he still loved Anne. Even now, she crept into his thoughts, unbidden.

His headache had come now, and he almost welcomed it. At least the pain would block out thoughts of everything else.

Back in Boston, James Benwick turned off his phone with a frustrated sigh. Frederick Wentworth had not been the easiest of skaters since he'd first clapped eyes on him. Age had only worsened the man's stubbornness. Jamie knew that Frederick's place was on the ice. Why was it so difficult for Frederick to see that as well? Skating had saved Frederick's life after that dreadful business with Anne. Skating was what would save him now, if only he'd let it.

Jamie looked back at the young woman lying on the bed, various machines monitoring her vital signs. It barely looked like Hannah from this vantage point, her head swathed in bandages, her normally healthy complexion a dull white. Jamie hadn't particularly cared for Hannah in the past, but he knew that only a heartless bastard would look upon her now and not feel compassion for her. He supposed one could look at this from a technical standpoint, which was to say that if Hannah hadn't followed Frederick to America, and if she hadn't lied about being pregnant, she wouldn't be lying here now. But when Jamie looked at Hannah, he remembered Phoebe. He remembered how he'd been so angry in those first days after her accident.

So angry he'd blamed Phoebe herself, though obviously it hadn't been her fault.

But he couldn't think about Phoebe now, or he'd go mad. He sat down in a chair beside Hannah's bed. Now he could see her chest rising and falling, almost imperceptibly, with each breath she took. Dr. Janaway had been in to see her earlier that day and had suggested to Jamie that he try to talk to her. "Sometimes coma patients can hear their loved ones speaking to them," he'd said.

Jamie had almost blurted out that he wasn't a relative, but he knew that if he'd done that, he wouldn't be allowed to see her. Only relatives were allowed in here at the moment. At the same time, he hadn't been sure what to say. Hannah didn't care for him any more than he'd cared for her. She felt that he took up too much of Frederick's time. Jamie felt the same way about her. Frederick had always laughed it off and joked that if they wouldn't spend so much of their time fighting over him, they'd probably fall in love with each other. But since they did fight so much, it was very likely that Hannah would cringe and slip deeper into her coma, just to ignore him.

"Don't be foolish, Benwick," he muttered. "Hannah's not going to consign herself to death just because you're the one here. If you believe that, you might as well let Freddie come back to hold her hand. Besides, fighting with someone near death worked for Ed Harris in The Abyss."

But finding something to talk to Hannah about was going to take some consideration. God, he'd had enough trouble finding things to say to Phoebe, and he'd loved her so much he'd once thought he would never run out of things to say.

Phoebe Harville had been the sister of his best friend Nathan. As boys, Jamie and Nathan had done their best to ignore Phoebe, who had been three years their junior. When they did play with her, Phoebe was inevitably left tied to a tree somewhere or taken far into the woods and left to fend for herself until Jamie's conscience had gotten the best of him and he'd rescued her. No matter how many times they'd gotten the best of her, Phoebe always came back the next day, determined to join them in whatever adventures they were having.

As adults, Phoebe had reminisced about those days with a grimace, saying, "Lord, I was a true masochist, wasn't I? You two were pure evil. How did I ever fall in love with you?"

Jamie would always laugh but never answer. They both knew why she'd fallen in love with him----because she'd always been in love with him, even as a child. As they'd gotten older, Jamie had lost interest in tormenting Phoebe and had fallen in love with her. She'd grown up to be so beautiful, with her copper-orange hair curling so wildly about her face and big gray eyes. When Phoebe came of age, Jamie became her boyfriend and eventually her life partner.

Jamie would've given his soul to marry Phoebe, but Phoebe was still a free spirit at heart. "A piece of paper and a contract between us won't make me love you any more than I already do," she said.

But Jamie knew that many of their friends thought he was the one who was stalling, that Phoebe wanted to marry him and he was reluctant. Over time, he noticed more and more pointed questions about whether they were going to married and have children. It was always Phoebe who put them off with a laugh, saying, "When we grow up!"

Two years ago, on Phoebe's thirtieth birthday, Jamie proposed. He figured that he would have his best shot at getting her to agree to marry him on a milestone occasion such as that, and he was right. Phoebe had agreed to marry him and wore the beautiful platinum-and-diamond ring he'd bought with pride. Being engaged bought them more time, not that this thrilled Jamie. Phoebe would occasionally leaf through a bridal magazine and marvel at some of the gowns she saw, but when he asked her if she would like to set a date and wear one of them, she would say, "What rubbish. We'll just reserve a day with a judge and get married in our night clothes."

He let her put it off because he knew she needed time to adjust to the idea of actually going through with the wedding. Just over a year ago, however, Phoebe had accepted an invitation to go boating with a group of friends from college. Jamie had been included in the invitation, of course, but Frederick had been needing every moment of practice he could get in preparation for the upcoming Olympics. Jamie had turned her down, something for which he would never forgive himself. The person steering the boat had gotten drunk and plowed into another boat, killing three of the nine people on his boat outright. Two others, including Phoebe, would later die of the injuries sustained in the accident.

If Jamie had needed any proof that he lived in an unjust world, he found it in the fact that the boat's owner and captain had escaped virtually unscathed. He had lived, while his beautiful, vibrant Phoebe had died.

Jamie still had the tape from the answering service, which featured Phoebe cheerfully telling callers that no one was home at the moment, not that it would be a shock to anyone who knew them, but to leave a message and if the cat didn't erase the tape during a temper tantrum, they'd try to call them back when they could.

There was one message on the tape. Thousands of miles and over a year away, Jamie could recite the last message by heart.

"James, you are missing quite a party...shut up, Johnny, I'm talking to Jamie...what was I saying? Oh, yeah. I'm sure Freddie's going to be worth it. By the way, I wanted to pass along some vital information. I've decided that we should get married! Aren't you happy? I've even chosen a wedding date----next June, so that the whole Olympics mess will be over and Freddie can be your best man....what? No, Earl, you can't...because Jamie doesn't like you, that's why...I have to go because we're heading out on the boat. Earl's insisting that we go now. I love you, James. Love, Phoebe."

The next phone call he'd received had been the one to tell him about the accident, and after that, he didn't remember getting very many phone calls. He'd been at the hospital most of the time, with Phoebe. The doctors had encouraged him to talk to her, and he had. For weeks at a time.

But the day had come when he realized that there was nothing more he could say or do. The damage to her mind and to her body had been too great. He'd gone home one night to get some rest and had been awakened at three-thirty in the morning by a telephone call informing him that she'd died.

Jamie didn't think he would ever forgive himself for not being there when she died.

He looked at Hannah now, seeing her for the first time instead of Phoebe and his memories. Hannah wasn't injured nearly as bad, and she could recover. Jamie was determined to see that she did recover, and if it took him talking to her, that's what he would do.

He took a deep breath and said, "Hello, Hannah. Fancy seeing you here...Lord, that was rather stupid of me to say, wasn't it? Obviously I knew you were here, and obviously it's not a surprise at the moment. I never did handle moments like this very well."

Jamie looked at her for a long while before speaking again. "I don't know what you're going through, but I can tell you exactly what Frederick's enduring right now. He isn't here because he has to keep skating, but he calls at least ten times a day, wanting to know if you're better. I wish I had more promising news to give him, but you're being very uncooperative, young woman." Jamie almost smiled. "You're probably thinking that I'm insensitive to keep him away from you at a time like this, but trust me when I say that it's for the best if he's not around when you wake up.

"For starters, he thinks you lied to him. You told him you were pregnant when you weren't. Whether it was what you believed or something you made up to hold on to him, I know that he would've started in on the subject very soon after you woke up. If you lied to him, you wouldn't have time to apologize and he would've left. If you thought it was true, his bringing it up might've caused you to have a relapse. If you don't wake up..." Jamie swallowed heavily, trying again not to think of Phoebe, "well, you're going to wake up. I have no doubt about that. No doubt at all."

Part 22

Anne could hardly believe that the woman in the mirror was herself. In four short hours, Charlotte Denny had convinced Anne that she was truly a genius. Rather than just take her to a mall and find an outfit for her, Charlotte had only made a few suggestions and let Anne do the rest. Anne was almost embarrassed to admit how carried away she'd gotten, buying not only a clingy violet gown with a short skirt and a plunging neckline but also a more demure pale blue gown and burgundy red blouse and matching skirt. She bought a few cute halter tops in pastel colors, which Charlotte insisted had to be matched with sandals and different colored shoes. Anne had almost been embarrassed to admit that she only owned two pairs of shoes----white sneakers and black pumps.

The shopping part having gone so easily, Charlotte had convinced her to get her hair done. At first, Anne had been reluctant to do this because she'd always worn her hair long. Her mother had always told her that her hair was beautiful and should never be cut. Anne always wore it well past her shoulders but not quite to her waist.

"I'm sure your mother didn't truly mean that," Charlotte said. "I've had hair that long, and I know what a pain in the butt it is. I remember the first serious haircut I had, I nearly cried after seeing how much hair was on the floor. But when I saw the style, I knew it had been worth the tears. Believe me, you'll look terrific with shorter hair."

"Not too short," Anne had insisted.

"Agreed." So Charlotte had dragged her to a beauty salon, where Anne had kept her eyes closed while Charlotte suggested the style. An hour later, when Anne opened her eyes again, there was plenty of white-blonde hair on the ground and she had a new hairstyle. Anne had to admit that it looked lovely. The ends brushed her shoulder blades and curled under. It had been parted on the right and the left side was nearly in her eyes. Anne had a bad feeling she'd be brushing it back a hundred times before the night was over, but it looked good. And it was still long enough for her to pull back for performances.

Charlotte and Anne returned to the hotel once they were done, Anne giving Charlotte a big hug and many thanks before rushing to her room to get ready for her date.

And now the time had arrived. She was wearing the violet dress, nearly blushing at the amount of skin she was showing, with a pair of high heels. Around her neck she wore a fine gold chain, a pair of diamond stud earrings in her ears, not that they could be seen amidst all the hair. She'd applied her makeup herself, having learned to do that at an early age after letting Alyssa make her up right before she'd been scheduled to compete at her first Junior Worlds. Anne hadn't been able to figure out why people had been laughing at her until after she'd competed and had gotten to a mirror. Alyssa had used bright green eye shadow on her cheeks instead of blusher and then used purple lipstick rather than the peach Anne had given her.

It's a wonder I survived to make it as far as I did, with Alyssa doing her best to drag me down even when Mom was alive.

Anne shut her eyes tightly to drive the thought away. She wasn't going to think of Alyssa or her father or even Susan. She was going to concentrate on this maybe date and Bill Ellison. If she could keep focused on that, she'd be fine.

The appointed hour of seven arrived. Anne slipped her room key into the purse she'd bought to match the dress, took one last look at her reflection (which still didn't look like her), and left the room. She put a bit of bounce into her stride and tried to appear more confident than she actually felt. The elevator doors opened just as she reached them, but before she could step inside, she recognized the occupant still inside.

"Frederick!" she gasped, astonished at how terrible he looked. How had she not noticed it before? Haggard expression, deep, dark circles under his eyes...he'd lost several pounds from the looks of things, and he couldn't really spare them. His eyes looked so bleak that Anne feared he might try to hurt himself.

"Hello, Anne," he said brokenly. "I was just going down to the bar. Care to join me for a drink?"

"Uh...no, I can't. I'm meeting someone for a...dinner-type thing."

"You mean a date?" Frederick asked, a light shooting into his eyes. It chased away the bleakness but he didn't look especially happy to hear this.

"Well, I think...yes, it is." Anne walked past him and into the elevator. She stood to one side, waiting for him to step away from the doors so they would shut. When he didn't move, she said, "Frederick? Could you move so the elevator will go, please?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Frederick moved back into the elevator. A few seconds later, the doors shut. He cleared his throat several times as the elevator unexpectedly went up. He frowned. "I could've sworn I hit...oh, damn. I didn't. I hit the button for the penthouse and not the lobby. We're going all the way up."

Anne felt a kernel of frustration in her throat, but told herself not to be silly. Frederick hadn't done it on purpose, for heaven's sake! He hadn't known she would be leaving the hotel just then.

"So...who's the lucky fellow?" he asked.

Anne tensed slightly. Was it just her, or did he sound...censorious? "What makes you think I'm meeting a man?"

"Annie, you're dressed up. You...you cut your hair!" This time, he was definitely sounding accusatory. "Why did you cut your hair?"

"Because it was too long," she replied, trying not to sound annoyed. "And I was ready for a change. And for the record, his name is Bill Ellison. Do you have a problem with this?"

"None at all," he said. "I was just asking. Can't I be curious as the next person?"

Anne sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing she was being shrewish. "I'm just nervous about this, that's all. I shouldn't be snapping at you...or anyone."

Frederick smiled slightly. "Better me than Mr. Ellison, I would think."

Anne smiled in return. "True." The elevator came to a stop and opened to a lobby. There was only one door on this floor. "So this is what the penthouse looks like."

"The hallway to the penthouse, anyway." Frederick poked his head out. "Do you think if we hung around here long enough they'd let us in?"

"In all likelihood, they'd have us arrested for loitering. We'd better go back down." Anne pushed the button for the lobby as Frederick ducked back inside. The doors waited a few more seconds before shutting. "How is Hannah?" she asked as the elevator started down.

"The same, according to Jamie."

"Jamie's in Boston?" Anne was delighted. She'd always liked Jamie.

Frederick nodded. "He's the reason why I'm here instead of with Hannah. I thought you knew that."

"I didn't, otherwise I would've gone out of my way to see him while we were still there." Anne stared at the screen showing what floor they were on....seventh floor and falling. "I'm sorry to hear she's not doing better."

"Jamie says she's shown improvement but she hasn't come out of it...yet." Frederick sighed. "I keep telling myself I should be there, but I know he's right. Thoughts of what happened that day keep turning in my mind and I know that if I were there when she regains consciousness, the first thing I would do is to demand she tell me the truth about the pregnancy. I would be the last thing someone who's been in a coma would want to see."

"It's quite a mess," Anne said quietly. "I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, but...I didn't have any wisdom eight years ago when we had quite a mess. Why should that improve with time?"

"You know, Annie..." Frederick gave the elevator's stop button a glance like he wanted to use it, but it was too late. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to the front lobby. "Your floor," he said.

"Yours, too." She stepped off the elevator and waited for him to do the same. "Frederick..."

"Have a nice time on your date, Anne," he said. "I've heard Bill Ellison's a real charmer."

"I...I will," she replied, wanting to say more to his retreating back as he made his way to the hotel bar. She soon found herself distracted by the sight of a tall, blond Adonis heading her way...Bill.

Jamie rubbed his eyes. Four days had passed since he'd decided that he would bring Hannah out of her coma. Four days in which he'd talked, argued with himself, and finally brought in Jilly Cooper's Pandora to read aloud to her. He'd found the book in one of her suitcases, which he'd arranged to have brought to his hotel room. There had been a little amusement with this last, because he'd gotten to a rather passionate moment in the book just as Dr. Janaway walked in to check on his patient. The doctor had managed it with good grace when Jamie told him that the book was one of Hannah's favorites.

Hannah had shown improvement. She was breathing now without the aid of a machine, which was a major step. Jamie had been told that her brain waves were strong, indicating that she might have very little damage, if any. Unfortunately, she still hadn't come out of the coma, which the doctors said was not necessarily a bad thing.

Jamie opened the book, thinking that he couldn't help but disagree with that notion, just as the doctor walked in again.

"If that book doesn't bring her around, nothing will," the doctor noted, scribbling something on his chart. "How are you, Mr. Benwick? Doing well?"

Jamie shrugged. "As well as could be expected," he replied. "I think I may be relieved this weekend. Her parents are talking of taking a quick trip. Frederick's offered to pay their way so they can see her."

"This may seem like a belated question, and I hope you'll excuse me for asking, but exactly how are you related to this girl?"

Jamie glanced over at Hannah before turning guilty eyes on the doctor. "Well, none, really. I'm a coach...a figure skating coach. Her boyfriend is one of my old students."

"That was Mr. Wentworth?"

"Yes. He's been with me for a long time. He's almost like a son."

"You don't seem old enough to be his father."

Jamie shrugged. "Ten years, but I meant how close we'd become. You probably won't believe this, but Frederick is usually wonderful in crisis situations. He saved one of my fellow students' lives when she fell and cut her leg deeply. But when it comes to himself...that's when Frederick doesn't handle himself as well. That's why it was best for him to leave."

"Some people are like that. My wife says I am, but I have my doubts." Dr. Janaway checked Hannah over and made a few more notations on her chart.

"You don't intend to tell me to leave, do you?" Jamie asked. "I mean, I am here in place of her parents and boyfriend at the moment. They need me here to tell them how she's doing."

"I have no problem with your presence. I was just curious. I don't see devotion such as yours every day...and you're not even a relative." Dr. Janaway walked out of the room.

Jamie stared at the empty door, frowning. Was he spending too much time here with Hannah? He hadn't thought so. He'd gone home every night around ten-thirty and returned each morning at nine. He took a ten-minute break every hour. He spent a good thirty minutes talking to either Frederick, who still called too often, or Hannah's parents, who were unable to call often enough. While he was talking to Hannah, most of the talking anymore revolved around the book he was reading to her.

Jamie opened the book and prepared to resume reading when he heard a soft sigh. This was something new. His attention was diverted from the book and he stared at Hannah. Her eyes were still closed.

It was just my imagination. Nothing more. Just my imagination. He turned back to the book. "Ahem. Chapter Ten..."

There was another sound. This time Jamie knew it wasn't his imagination. He set the book aside and waited until it came again. It was less than a minute before he heard it, and this time, he would swear that he had seen her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

"Hannah?" he said softly.

Hannah's head moved slightly, then a little more. It took her nearly a minute to turn enough in his direction. Her eyes opened almost as slowly. She stared at him blankly.

"Hannah?" he repeated.

She nodded but didn't speak.

"Can you see me?"

She nodded again. Her lips started to form a word...his name. In a very soft whisper, she said, "Jamie."

"Yes, Hannah, love, it's Jamie." Jamie felt a rush of excitement. She was awake! "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

Hannah's eyes clouded over and closed again. She didn't speak and Jamie felt fear stab at him. "Don't go to sleep, Hannah, please. You've been asleep long enough."

Hannah opened her eyes again. Jamie fumbled for the call button and pressed it several times. "That's good," he said when he saw her eyes open again. "Just stay awake. You don't have to think about anything right now."

Jamie's eyes turned to the door, waiting for someone to see the light and come running. When a minute passed with no one coming to check on them, he frowned. Wasn't there supposed to be someone keeping an eye out for this?

"Baby."

Jamie turned back to Hannah, who was looking at him with a worried look in her eyes. "Pardon?"

Hannah's voice was a bit clearer. "Baby?"

Jamie almost groaned, because now he knew that Hannah really had thought she was pregnant. She hadn't lied to Frederick----at least, not on purpose.

Jamie wasn't sure what to tell her. If he told her she was no longer pregnant, she might have a relapse. If he lied and said she was...

"Yes, Mr. Benwick?" A nurse had appeared, looking like she'd come at a dead run.

"What took so long? She's awake," Jamie said, pointing to Hannah.

"Oh! I'll notify Dr. Janaway immediately. And you just pressed the button a second ago."

"I most certainly did not press this button a second ago! It was several times over the past minute!" Jamie heard what might've passed for a chuckle from Hannah.

The nurse gave him a dark look but disappeared to get the doctor. Jamie turned back to Hannah, who had a wavering smile on her face. She still had the question in her eyes and with a sinking heart he knew he was going to be the one who told her. Maybe it would sound better coming from a friend of sorts.

"Hannah...you were never pregnant," Jamie said gently. "I'm sorry. I know you must've been convinced you were, otherwise you wouldn't have told Freddie, but...you weren't."

Hannah shook her head. "I was," she said weakly.

"No. The doctor said..."

"Hello, Ms. Musgrove!" Dr. Janaway's voice had changed from the calm, methodical doctor's voice he'd been using the past several days. "We're happy you've decided to rejoin us."

Hannah's eyes were filled with tears. "I was," she repeated.

The doctor, not understanding her meaning, said, "I'm sure you were. We're just going to do a few tests to check you out and see how you're doing. Mr. Benwick, if you could excuse us?"

"Of course," Jamie said. He looked back at Hannah. The tears had tricked down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he mouthed.

Jamie stood outside the door as the doctor checked Hannah over and asked her a series of questions, all basic things like her name and age. Hannah answered hesitantly but correctly. After a few minutes, he reappeared outside her room.

"You can go back in," Dr. Janaway said. "It looks like she's going to be fine. Why was she so upset?"

"She asked about the baby," Jamie replied. "I had to tell her the truth. It's obvious that she thought she was pregnant and was worried that she'd had a miscarriage."

The doctor nodded. "I figured that was the case." He put an a hand on Jamie's arm. "She's going to need someone to help her through this. Although there was no baby to lose..."

"I know." Jamie extended his hand. "Thank you for everything you've done, Dr. Janaway. I appreciate it, and I know Hannah does, too."

Dr. Janaway shook the proffered hand. "You're welcome, but I'm just doing my job." He walked away.

Jamie glanced back into the room. Hannah had her head turned away from the door, but Jamie could hear the sound of muffled sobbing. He walked back into the room and walked over to the right side of the bed where Hannah could see him. Her eyes were closed, oozing tears. Jamie didn't have the heart to talk to her just then. He suspected that anything he would say would come out wrong and only upset her worse, so he just sat there and let her cry.

"Bill Ellison," Frederick muttered as he toyed with his third whiskey sour. "Bill Bloody Ellison. Of all the people!"

He'd been sitting in the bar for nearly ninety minutes, contemplating whether or not he should have anything to eat and brooding about the fact that Anne was on a date. Worse, that her date was none other than the Shark.

Why shouldn't Anne be on a date? It's been eight years, for God's sake. The two of you were over ages ago, and you've been in a relationship with Hannah for three years. Why shouldn't Anne have the same opportunities as you have?

Frederick put a hand to his throbbing temple, wondering if he could drink enough to take the headache away. Never mind that he'd have a worse headache in the morning, at least the pain would be gone for a while. That was all he really wanted----to have the whole world go away, just for a little while, until he was ready to deal with it.

If anyone were to hear your thoughts, they would think you a teenager and not a responsible adult like you should be. Why do you always get like this in crisis situations involving yourself or someone you care about?

Just as Frederick was about to answer the question, he heard a woman's voice behind him. "Excuse me, Mr. Wentworth?"

He groaned. Lord, just what I need right now. A fan wanting to talk about skating. He turned and put on his falsest smile. "Yes?"

She was tall, dark-haired, and wearing a uniform that he recognized as the garb of a hotel employee. She was smiling pleasantly. "You have an urgent telephone call. The caller said his name is James Benwick and he's tried your room three times already."

Frederick rose immediately from his seat, slapped down a fifty dollar bill to cover his tab, and said, "Tell him...never mind, I'll tell him. Where can I take the call?"

"I can have the call transferred in here, if you'd like." She glanced at the bartender, who nodded.

"Yes, please. I would appreciate that. Thank you very much....uh, Mia," he finished, seeing her name tag.

"You're welcome. Danny will let you know when the call's come through." She turned and went back to the front desk.

Frederick waited for what seemed like an eternity before the bartender handed him the telephone. He snatched it out of his grasp and said, "Jamie, please tell me she's awake."

"She's awake," Jamie replied. "And it looks like she's going to be fine."

Frederick's sense of relief was so strong that he was grateful to be sitting. "Thank God," he said, tears in his eyes. "Thank God."

"Yeah, it's good. Freddie...she didn't know she wasn't pregnant."

The relief was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. "What?"

"When she woke up, she asked about the baby. I had to tell her that she'd never been pregnant. She was so upset...the poor thing cried herself to sleep." Jamie's voice sounded sympathetic. "Quite possibly the worst thing I've ever had to do was tell her that."

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry I did this to you," Frederick said brokenly. "I should've been there. Did she ask for me?"

"No, but don't let that worry you. She's been so upset since I told her the truth that I doubt it's occurred to her to wonder where you are." Before Frederick could say something, Jamie added, "I think it might be a good idea for you to wait a couple of days before coming."

"What?"

"I think you should give Hannah a day or two to grieve and to think things over. Then you can come and see her."

"Are you insane? In two days, we're going to be in Baltimore. Why should I go there only to have to fly to Boston when I can just fly to Boston from here?"

"Frederick..."

"I'm not going to attack her, for God's sake. I won't ask her a bloody question. I just want to be there so she doesn't think I've deserted her." Which he had done during the course of her hospital stay, of course, which made the guilt trip start all over again.

"All right. I think she needs a little time, but all right."

"You know, I should be bloody annoyed with you. You're turning into a dictator of late," Frederick said.

"I've always been a dictator. You're just noticing for the first time."

Frederick almost smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Okay."

Frederick handed the phone back to the bartender, his headache gone but his stomach in turmoil. He was going to see Hannah tomorrow...but what was he going to say?

Part 23

Anne's stomach was in knots all through dinner, which was probably why she didn't eat much of the lobster she'd ordered. Anne was careful enough not to drink but one glass of the champagne he'd ordered since she wanted to be sober if she made a decision about representation. She stared at Bill as he dined on a meal which started with raw oysters and ended with crème brulee, picking at her plate the entire time. She started feeling bad about not eating much when she knew it had to be outrageously expensive. Bill didn't complain, however, when he saw the check, merely handing over a credit card to the waitress and leaning back in his chair, a contented smile on his face.

Neither of them had said much throughout dinner, almost as though they wanted to avoid the subject that had brought them together as long as possible. Anne thought it was strange for an agent not to spend as much time as he could convincing her she needed his services, but she did take it as a sign that he hadn't asked her out merely for business reasons.

"That was wonderful," he said when the waitress came back with the slip for him to sign. "They have the best filet mignon around. Wonderful stuff."

Anne smiled weakly.

"Are you feeling all right? I noticed that you didn't eat much and wondered."

"I'm fine," Anne insisted. "I've been on edge quite a bit lately, with this tour and everything, that's all."

"Do you not like the tour?" he asked. "Several of my other clients say that touring is rigorous, but a lot of fun because you get a chance to get to know other skaters you've been competing with over the years. Plus, you make a great deal of money."

"I was never really in skating for the money."

"Not in it for the money? My dear Anne, why not?"

Anne frowned. Was she hearing things, or did he sound slightly condescending when he said that? She mentally shook off the thought and replied, "Because so many skaters don't make it. I've known a lot of talented skaters---more talented than myself---fall by the side of the road and never make a dime out of the sport."

"Really? I always thought if you had sufficient talent, you could at least star in the Ice Capades or some such thing. It wouldn't be as much money as you'd make on a tour like this, but it would be something." Bill picked up his champagne flute and finished off what was left. "I don't think I've known a skater---a world-class skater, that is---who hasn't made money, especially since the boom in business over the last decade or so."

"My sister was a world-class skater," Anne said softly, staring at her half-full glass of champagne. "Both of them were, actually. Neither of them went on to do anything or make any money."

"Ah, yes. I've heard a bit of the unfortunate history of your family. I...this may sound bad, but I had a giant crush on your mother when I was a boy. She was so beautiful and elegant on the ice that I used to dream..." Bill smiled. "I used to dream that I was skating with her."

"Did you try skating yourself?" Anne asked.

"Yes, for a whole week. I couldn't stay upright on the skates, and I still can't. I can't do roller skates, either. Something about having to have solid ground beneath my feet and all that. It pretty much ended any hopes I had of joining your mother." His face became solemn. "I was so sad when she died. Nothing compared to what you went through, of course, but it was a great loss for many people."

"Thank you," Anne said quietly. "By the time you were watching her on television, she was probably with my father."

"Ah, yes...your father. Part of the unfortunate history, from what I've heard."

Anne picked up her glass of champagne and drank about half of it in one gulp. "What have you heard?" she asked.

"Nothing good of him, especially the way he treated you eight years ago," Bill said. "A lot of people in the sport lost respect for him, and for your sister as well. Then again, a lot of people didn't respect your sister for years because of the things she did to you."

"That's a bit hypocritical, considering the things certain skaters have done in the past. No one is without blame when it comes to trickery and deceit."

"You are," Bill said. "That's one of the first things that drew me to you. I've talked to half a dozen people outside of your family and not a single one of them had a bad thing to say. You're very well-liked, Miss Elliot."

Anne blushed. "It's nice to know."

"Now, as to the business that brought us here initially...I am very interested in representing you. I think you have a great amount of potential. You're young, intelligent, beautiful, talented..."

Anne blushed even more. "I'm beginning to think you're describing someone else," she said.

Bill shook his head. "I'd run out of adjectives describing you if I continued, but you get the idea. From a monetary standpoint, you have the most potential of any skater out there. Unlike some of the other skaters, you don't have scandals in your past, which is why some people are reluctant to deal with Elizabeth Darcy and her husband. I suspect that Charlotte and Carl Denny will experience the same kind of trouble now that everyone knows he fathered Georgiana Darcy's baby. As for Georgiana...well, she's a beautiful girl, but again, she's got a lot of scandals in her past."

"I'm not without a scandal or two of my own," Anne told him, not happy with the direction this conversation was taking. "You've neglected to mention that eight years ago, my sister..."

"That garbage your sister flung about is ancient history. No one really remembers that anymore, and besides, sending your skaters to other coaches in order for them to improve other skills is, while not a common practice, not frowned upon as it was then. What those reporters neglected to mention eight years ago was that both of your sisters were doing the same thing you were."

Anne shook her head. "No. They were auditioning for Catherine de Bourgh. If Lady Cat had chosen either of them, my father would've been over the moon, but in the end nothing came of it. Alyssa faded away and Maralys..."

"Ran away," Bill finished. "It was a shame, because she was wonderful. You and she were the two I saw competing for the medals and titles, much like the Williams sisters do in tennis. I never thought Alyssa was going to get far in spite of everything she did to try."

"Well, Maralys is...happy where she is now," Anne lied.

If Bill knew it was a lie, he didn't show it. "Well, like I said, all that nonsense from eight years ago is in the past and no one really thinks about it, whereas all of these other scandals have popped up within the last four years or, in some cases, the last four weeks. Skating's image is taking a real hit right now. What this sport needs is someone we can put on a pedestal, someone we can look up to, someone who represents what's good about figure skating. We need a golden girl, and you're just right for the job."

Anne finished the champagne. Bill moved to refill her glass, but she placed her hand over it. "I don't think I'm the person you're looking for," she said quietly.

Bill set the bottle down. "Of course you are. You're perfect. You're beautiful and talented. You come from a family of skaters. You're a sponsor's dream."

"I have only as much interest in sponsors as I need to have," she said. "Like I told you, I'm not in this for the money."

"So I'll have to ask you again: why not?" Bill was looking at her like she was mentally ill. "You said it was because you'd seen skaters who didn't make money at it, but you can be successful. Why not go for it? You can have everything."

"I skate because I love to skate. I've been skating almost as long as I could walk. There was a time when I hated it, when I felt like if I had to go to the rink one more time I'd scream, but in the end, I realized that I truly loved what I do. I love being out there by myself, skating to music. I'd be out on the ice even if no one was watching and no one cared about what I was doing. I'd be out there even if it cost me millions a year."

Bill smiled. "That's a wonderful attitude to have. Really, it is, and I wish all my clients would be that way as well. I have too many who allow themselves to get caught up in the star trip, the endorsements and the money and everything that goes with it. I think you'll be able to avoid that pitfall."

"I know I will, because I plan to avoid it as much as I can."

"Now see, this is where you need someone like me. I know you don't think much of sponsors and endorsements, but you wouldn't have to worry about them if you hire me. I'd handle that end of things. You could just go on skating and enjoying yourself, and I'd be out there making sure you got money and anything else you'd need." Bill leaned forward in his chair and got serious. "Anne, you may say you don't need money, but eventually you will need it. You can make a good living on these tours, but think of how much better a living you could make if you picked up a couple of endorsements. The milk people would love to have you do an ad for them. McDonald's, car companies, hair care products...your hair looks stunning, by the way. You could make a mint with very little effort on your part. I've heard that you're still wanted by one of the late-night talk show hosts. He's had everyone else on his program except you."

"I'm not very good in interviews," Anne said bluntly.

"Okay, so we'll skip the talk shows. But if you sign with me, Anne, I'm going to work hard for you so that when you're ready to walk away from it altogether, you'll be able to do so in style and comfort. Suppose you want to take a year off to have a baby or get married? You can look at skating and say, 'Be back in a year.' Suppose you get hurt and are forced to retire? Money will come in pretty handy for all of this."

Anne toyed with the stem of her champagne glass. "I know you're right," she said. "And I know that it's every person's dream come true to be able to do what they love and make money at it. But like I told you, I never went into skating with the thought of making money. I thought of winning a gold medal and making my family and friends proud, and now that I've achieved that goal, I haven't really thought about what to do next. That's why I'm on this tour now, because it was the first opportunity I had to do something."

"And that's a good thing. I'll help you take that even farther...if you sign with me."

Anne sighed. "Would you be offended if I asked for time to think about it? This isn't the sort of decision I can make over one dinner."

"Of course. I would think less of you if you didn't take time to think about it. Just one more sign that you're exactly what I thought you were." Bill smiled and stood up. He walked around to her side of the table and scooted her chair back so she could get out. "Would it be okay for me to ask you out again...in a less professional capacity?"

Anne's heart sank. She'd thought that's what this had been. "Of...of course," she replied.

"Excellent. I became so distracted by you that I put off business until the last minute, which is something I never do. You've done something to me, Miss Elliot, and I think I rather like it."

Anne smiled. Nice recovery, she thought, but I have my doubts.

After making the phone call to Frederick, Jamie went back to Hannah's room to see if she had finally gotten to sleep. He was surprised to find her wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

"What are you doing back here?" she asked monotonously.

"I figured you could use some company," Jamie replied after a lengthy silence. "I suppose you're wondering where Frederick is."

"No, I have a pretty good idea of where he went," she said, her voice still sounding dead. "The doctor told him I wasn't pregnant. He thought I was lying about the baby and so he left. Now he's with his precious Anne. I wish them all the misery they can stand together." Her voice became bitter at the end.

"No! God, Hannah, it isn't like that at all."

She turned her head to look at him, disbelief clearly written in her eyes. "Isn't it? Then why isn't he here?"

"I told him to go. You're partially right. He did think you were lying about being pregnant." When Hannah scoffed, Jamie protested, "What was he supposed to think? You came all this way for no apparent reason, you were acting very strange around him, you two fought about Anne right before your accident. Of course he was going to think you lied about being pregnant in order to hang on to him."

Hannah shook her head. "I wasn't lying. My test said I was pregnant." Her eyes filled with tears again. "Are the doctors absolutely certain I'm not? I mean...maybe my test got mixed up with someone else's. Maybe..."

Jamie shook his head. "I'm sure they ran it half a dozen times to be sure. Freddie said it was the first thing he told them when you were admitted. They would've had to in order to give you medicines, so that if you were pregnant they didn't give you something that would harm the child. You probably had a defective test, that's all. It's not fair that you drew the bad one, but...I'm afraid that must've been what happened."

Hannah sniffled several times before clearing her throat and saying, "Well, I guess that's the end of that." Her chin quivered and tears started falling again.

Jamie couldn't let her cry without a shoulder of support, so he offered her his. She took it gladly, sobbing for several minutes before pulling away from him and laying back down on the bed. "So now he's with Anne," she finished dully. "I didn't get pregnant...or I didn't think I was, or...whatever. It was an accident. I didn't stop taking birth control or anything just because he was going on this tour with Anne. But I did come here because of her, because I knew of their history."

"To be quite honest with you, I'm not sure I blame you a bit. But he's not with her, not in the sense you mean. They're on tour together, of course, but Frederick's beside himself with guilt about your accident. I don't think he's had a moment to think of anything else other than his skating. And I know Anne Elliot very well. She's not the sort of woman who would use a tragedy to further her own interests, if she even has them anymore."

"I know," Hannah said in a small voice. "She seems a very nice sort of girl. It's too bad that we wound up being in love with the same man, because under normal circumstances I think we might've gotten along."

"I think that might be stretching the truth a bit. Anne's too reserved. You would've gotten bored in a heartbeat." Jamie remained seated on the edge of her bed. "He wanted to stay here. He planned to, at any rate. I convinced him that he had to go. If he'd stayed, he would've driven everyone insane. He already was before I got here. And before you ask, I came at your parents' request. I've told them that you're awake and you seem to be doing fine. Did they know you were...you thought you were pregnant?"

Hannah shook her head. "I wanted to tell Frederick first. I suppose it's for the best that they know nothing about the incident. I would be so humiliated if they knew, because then my sister and brother would know and...and to find out that I wasn't..."

Jamie frowned. "I thought you came from a close family. Freddie's always telling me about weekends at your parents' home with your whole family."

Hannah snorted. "Sure. My parents are fine, but my brother and sister...I can't say the same. They're wonderful when he's around. They were always amazed that I was able to pull a world-class athlete like Frederick, but there was always some little look they would share which indicated that they didn't think I would ever keep him. Unless I trapped him, which was another reason I didn't say anything."

"I'm surprised Frederick didn't notice something was off about your brother and sister. When Anne's sister..." Jamie cringed, wishing he hadn't said a thing.

"It's all right," she said quietly. "You can tell me about Anne. I think maybe it's time I did know everything."

"I don't know if I should be the one telling you. It's Frederick and Anne's story, not mine. I wouldn't feel right." Jamie was a bit shocked that Frederick hadn't told her himself, but on some level, he acknowledged that he should've known. Freddie had never been known to open up to people, even those he'd known a long time. Only Anne had seemed to crack through the shell he'd formed around himself, and when their relationship had been destroyed, the shell had only grown worse.

"Please, Jamie. It's the least I deserve after everything I've been through." Hannah put a hand to her head and grimaced in pain. After a moment, her eyes flew open. "Oh, God. I hit someone when...what happened to the other person? She was standing with her back to me and I didn't see her in time to avoid..."

"You hit Elizabeth Darcy, but she's fine. She just had a concussion. She regained consciousness at the rink, from what I understand, and now she's back and skating with the tour."

Hannah sighed. "Thank God. It's bad enough that I was stupid enough to go careening around on skates like I knew what I was doing, but if I'd caused someone else to be seriously hurt...I don't know what I'd do."

"Rest easy on that." Jamie clasped his hands and exhaled slowly. "Okay, about Frederick and Anne. How much of the story do you know already?"

"I know that they were together for a summer eight years ago and that for some reason, they separated. Her coach intercepted their letters, so he thought she wanted nothing more to do with him. That's it."

Jamie nodded. "Trust Frederick to give you the truncated version of events. All right, here goes: eight years ago, I received a phone call from Anne's coach, Susan Russell. She was taking over for Anne's mother, who had died not too long before that, from what I understand, and needed as much help as she could get. She told me that she knew Anne had the potential to be a great skater, but she needed someone who could point her in the right direction athletically. I knew that Susan was considered a formidable choreographer, so I made an arrangement where she would help Frederick improve his artistic presentation.

"From the moment Anne and Frederick met, I knew there was something special between them. If they'd been pairs skaters, I would've teamed them together in a heartbeat. They gave each other nicknames within days of knowing each other. She called him 'Lucifer' while he called her 'Heavenly.' Anne hadn't been in London very long before Frederick asked her out on a date. She accepted. Susan was livid, although I never did really understand why. It wasn't like I was trying to poach her pupil, or that Susan would be hurting for work if I did. Nonetheless, she despised the idea of Anne and Frederick together.

"The two were inseparable from their first date. Although Frederick was too much of a gentleman to say anything, I strongly suspect they became lovers. Frederick loved her with all his heart, and from the look in her eyes, I would say Anne felt the same about him. One night, Freddie told me they were thinking of living together. He talked of moving to Boston and asked if I would be willing to join him. At the time, I wouldn't have because of..." Jamie swallowed hard. Even now, it hurt to say her name. "Because of Phoebe, but I was willing to accept the fact that I would lose him and gave him several coaching recommendations.

"Then, one day, Anne's older sister Alyssa showed up. Her appearance was rather unexpected. I didn't find out until recently----when Frederick did----that Susan Russell had called her and asked her to come...to seduce Frederick."

Hannah gasped. "From her own sister?"

Jamie nodded.

"Lord...I must remember that the next time I complain about my sister. I'll say this for her, she might stoop to being cruel and cutting, but even she has enough decency not to try and steal my boyfriend." Hannah shook her head in disgust.

"Alyssa's plan failed, not for lack of trying. Her story was that her father wanted her to consult with Susan about a new routine they were working on for that season, and Alyssa did appear to be working at it, although even then I knew that she was never going to be as good as Anne was." Jamie chuckled. "It was a fine day for me when I got to tell her that. She was a beautiful girl, but when she was cross her face turned the shade of a tomato and her eyes bulged. I kid you not, they bulged horribly.

"Frederick came to me one day about two weeks after Alyssa showed up, telling me that he'd found her in his bed, nude, waiting for him. She did everything she could to entice him, but all he felt was disgust that she would treat her sister in such a manner. He tossed her out of his house the minute she was fully dressed and told her he'd have her on charges if she didn't leave London immediately. The next morning, Alyssa boarded a plane back to the States, but not before she'd run to every newspaper in town and told them that her untalented sister and her coach were in England in an attempt to steal ideas from England's top skaters."

"Oh, God," Hannah said.

"You can imagine the heat that brought on all of us. Anne was devastated, naturally, because people would not listen to our story about it being a tutorial for both skaters. People thought she was leeching off of Frederick. Frederick felt Anne was entitled to the truth, so he told her about what Alyssa had tried to do. When the pressure got to be too much, Susan and I made the mutual decision that it would be best if they left." Jamie snorted. "Rather, Susan made the decision and I foolishly agreed that it would be the right thing to do. I thought I was protecting them both. Instead, I inadvertently drove them apart."

"Why didn't they just leave together?" Hannah asked.

"Frederick wanted to go, but in the end he agreed that it would be best if they put some distance between each other for the time being. He knew it would only be physical distance. They planned on writing to each other every week. Susan felt that phone records could be traced and people would continue to think the worst. Neither of them ever suspected that Susan would pull a stunt like she did. Anne got on that plane vowing she'd love Freddie forever. He said the same thing about her. It was the last time they would speak until they came face to face for this tour.

"Frederick lost so much weight wondering why Anne didn't write him. He didn't know that her letters were being intercepted. He wrote her almost every day and was frantic that she didn't answer him. He wanted to fly out here and went as far as to book a flight, but someone tipped the press and he had to cancel it. So many things went wrong...and then one day, this letter arrives from Anne. It was a horrible letter. I can only imagine what she thought of him when she wrote it. Frederick read it to me and said that he should've known she never loved him. He didn't hear what I heard, which was wounded pride. I pleaded with him to fly out regardless of the press to talk to her, but he refused. Wounded pride on his part, and that was the end of it."

"Until they met again," Hannah said softly. "Eventually, this was going to happen, and everything was going to surface. He still loves her very much."

"Not necessarily. I think Frederick joined this tour with the express purpose of proving to Anne that he was over her once and for all. If she hadn't asked him one day early on why he never answered her letters, he'd still be in the dark. They both would, actually." Jamie knew he had to be hurting Hannah by telling her this, so he took her hand in his. He was surprised to discover that it was warm, since Frederick once joked that Hannah had the coldest hands he'd ever clasped. "I always suspected that Susan had played a part in this, but I thought she'd just persuaded Anne to end things with Frederick. I even thought she'd drafted the letter Anne wrote, because it didn't sound like something she would've come up with on her own. I never guessed that Susan had been behind it all."

"And no one knows why she did it?"

Jamie shook his head. "Some things in life don't make sense at all. I know that better than most people."

Hannah covered his hand with her other one. "I know," she said. "Why did you stay here with me, when it had to bring back all those horrible memories? Did Freddie talk you into staying after you convinced him to go?"

"No, I volunteered to stay. As for why..." Jamie shook his head. "I don't know. I was protecting the hospital staff from Frederick and in the same process protecting Frederick from going mad. And protecting you as well. Frederick would've bore down on you about not being pregnant, and you didn't need that. Well, he probably wouldn't have, because I think I stressed it to him well enough that he needed to give you breathing room, but I wasn't going to chance it. I...I guess you could say I was an old hand at this and knew the ropes and it would be easier on me."

"I think you're a bit mad yourself," Hannah said, but she smiled as she did so. "Whatever your bizarre reasoning was, thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied. "Frederick's going to fly here as soon as he gets done skating tomorrow."

"No," she said quickly.

Jamie frowned. "Why not? You're not upset because he allowed me to convince him to leave, are you? He didn't leave because he didn't care. It was the opposite, in fact. He was calling ten times a day to check on you and see if you'd improved. He told me at least once a phone call that he was returning to watch over you until you awakened. And while he was upset about the fact that you weren't pregnant, even he's not so insensitive as to tear into you when you're already down."

Hannah shook her head. "Forgive me, Jamie, but right now I don't want to see him. I need some time alone. Before...before the accident, we had a dreadful argument and I need to think about that before I see him again. Tell him that I appreciate his concern and that eventually I'll be up to talking to him, but for now I need to be alone." She almost laughed. "That's rather funny, isn't it? All this time, I thought all I needed was to be with him. Now he wants to be here, and I want to be alone." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please tell him not to come. Please?"

Jamie nodded. "I'll tell him. He's not going to like it, but he'll accept your decision. Would you like me to stay with you until you're released from the hospital? I could keep reading your book to you."

"What book?"

"I was reading that Jilly Cooper novel I found in amidst your baggage. The doctors were surprised that you didn't wake up when I got to the..." Jamie's face turned red.

"Don't tell me you actually read those parts aloud!" Hannah exclaimed. When he nodded, she laughed. "Oh, Jamie, I can't picture it. You'll have to read those parts to me now, because I definitely would like for you to stay until I'm released."

"I'm not sure I want to stay now," he protested, but when she just laughed harder, Jamie knew he'd be staying.

Part 24

Frederick was not happy with being told that Hannah didn't want to see him. Festering in the back of his mind was the continued thought that he had treated Hannah horribly, and he wanted to see her if for no other reason than to apologize for everything. He reluctantly abided by her wishes to not fly to Boston to see her, telling himself that she needed time to get over the fight. He admitted to himself that he was more hurt by the fact that she wouldn't even take his phone calls, only sending her "regards" via Jamie, whom he spoke to daily.

Jamie told him that while she was doing better, she'd had a couple of setbacks which kept her in the hospital. She hadn't lapsed back into a coma, but she had dizzy spells and moments where she would black out, so they were keeping her hospitalized for the moment, mostly for observation. Jamie said that she was recovering slowly from both the physical problems and the emotional ones stemming from the realization that she hadn't been pregnant after all.

"And our fight, no doubt," Frederick said. "I wish she'd talk to me."

"I have to respect her wishes on that subject, Freddie. She says when she's ready to speak to you, she will. In the meantime, just continue to skate. I hear you're doing well, all things considered."

"Well, when your life consists of waiting for one phone call a day, interminable road trips from one city to the next, and skating, you're going to tend to concentrate most on the one thing you do well. Since I don't handle road trips well and she's still not speaking to me, that leaves me to concentrate on skating. Did you at least tell her I was sorry?"

"Of course I have----every time you call, I tell her that you're sorry and that you want to talk to her. She says that she's not ready. What more is there to say?"

"She has no message for me outside of sending her 'regards.'"

"I'm sorry," Jamie said apologetically. "I wish there were something more." There was a pause. Frederick had known Jamie too long not to know when something was weighing on his mind.

"All right, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"There is something more, isn't there? She's said something about me, hasn't she?" Frederick would've been more than happy to reach through the phone to strangle him. Jamie was keeping something from him, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

"Freddie..."

"You're keeping something from me. I can tell from the way you're not saying anything, so out with it. What's going on?"

Jamie sighed heavily. "She's...I think she needs to tell you. Basically, she's said several times over the past few days that she doesn't think you two should see each other anymore."

"What?" Frederick shouted.

"Not in my ear, Freddie, please. I'm only relaying something she's said to me. I didn't want to tell you and she hasn't authorized me to say it, but...I told her about what happened between you and Anne."

"Oh." Frederick let that sink in for a few moments. "Oh, no. Jamie, why? Why did you bother bringing up dead, dry history?"

"Because anyone with eyes----and that includes Hannah----could see that it's not dead, dry or history between the two of you. And she deserved to know the whole story, so she could understand why that is. Actually, she deserved to hear it from you, but you'd never tell her, would you? She had to hear it from me."

"It is over between Anne and me a long time ago. Just because we're both on this tour doesn't mean we've picked up where we left off. We've hardly spoken to each other since the thing began. And obviously, I've forgotten to mention that Anne has been out with Bill Ellison several times over the past week."

"That shark? What's Anne doing around him?" Jamie asked, temporarily distracted from the issue at hand.

"Damned if I know. They met in Philadelphia and he's been hanging about her ever since. Ostensibly, he's trying to win her as a client. But seeing as my agent never took me to expensive dinners and last night to the theater, I somehow don't think it's only that. I can't believe she's falling for his lines. The man is vinegar dressed as champagne."

There was a short pause before Jamie asked, "When was the last time you spoke to her? What time of day was it? How long did the conversation last?"

"Earlier this afternoon, when we were getting ready for the opening number. The conversation lasted long enough for me to tell her that I really liked the way she'd done her program. She choreographed it herself, apparently, because she said it was fitting that she be doing something Susan had had no say in. I asked if she'd heard from Susan since their last phone conversation and she said she hadn't, nor had she wanted to. The bloody woman didn't even leave her a phone message, which should give you some idea as to how she's viewed Anne for years. All that song and dance about feeling a connection to her because of Anne's mother was...well, rubbish. Susan never cared about her. She saw her as a moneymaker. Anne said that was the way she was feeling about it, too."

"I see. So this conversation lasted for quite a while."

"No, not really. Just, you know, five minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Not long at all."

Jamie smiled. "I think Hannah's right. It's not over between you two."

"Is this what the two of you discuss because I'm not there? You talk about Anne and me?" Frederick was getting seriously annoyed.

"No, not really. Hannah only mentions it when she tells me she thinks the two of you should break up, because she knows you're not over Anne. According to her, you admitted as much the day she had the accident."

Frederick knew Jamie had him there. "Maybe I did," he said quietly. "Look...I know it won't change her mind, but would you please, again, tell her that I'm sorry about what happened and...and that we should really talk soon? It would mean a lot to me if we did, and if she wants to break up with me...she'll have to do it in person."

"Freddie, answer a question for me. Do you really want to continue your relationship with her or are you digging in your heels because she's wanting to let you go?"

"Are you implying that if I had had the chance to see her..."

"I'm not saying, implying, or judging you on anything. I just want an answer. Do you want to continue to be with her, or do you want another chance with Anne?"

"How am I supposed to answer that question?"

"Honestly, I would hope."

"Har bloody har." Frederick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know, James. And I won't know until I talk to Hannah and we get a few things situated between us. Even if Hannah and I decide not to stay together, it's not guarantee that things will work out for Anne and me. I mean, she's seeing..."

"I know who she's seeing, and I don't think you have anything to worry about. Men like that have a habit of tripping themselves up eventually, although if I know Annie, I don't think she'll have the tolerance for his brand of snake oil for too long. In the meantime, I'll tell Hannah what you've said and call you tomorrow."

"All right," Frederick muttered, knowing it was as good as he was going to get. "I'll talk to you later, then."

He hung up the phone and stared at the opposite wall, resisting the urge to throw the phone at it. He'd managed to make a real mess of his love life. But then, he'd always had trouble there. Frederick knew it was because he'd been unable to open up to a woman since Anne, but try though he might, he'd never been able to achieve the same level of intimacy that he'd had with her. Not even with Hannah.

With a sigh, he decided that he needed a drink, and badly. He groaned when the elevator opened up to reveal Anne, wearing a gorgeous pale blue gown, obviously ready for another night on the town with Mr. Snake Charmer himself. On her wrist gleamed a gold watch, new from the looks of it. Must've been a gift from Billy the Snake, he thought grimly.

"Good evening," Frederick said curtly, stalking into the elevator and punching the button to take him to the lobby.

"Good evening," she replied politely as the doors slid shut. "How is Hannah?"

"About the same. Still not speaking to me, of course, and who can blame her? Jamie can't, obviously. I can hear him censuring me all the way in Boston, right at this very minute." Frederick sighed and leaned heavily against one wall of the elevator. "I can't say I blame him."

Anne fidgeted with the neckline of her dress, which Frederick was relieved to see covered her much better than some of the other outfits he'd seen her wearing lately did. He hadn't minded what she'd worn when they were together, but the thought of someone else taking out, looking as she did...

I think you just answered Jamie's question. Frederick groaned aloud.

"Is something wrong?" Anne asked softly, concern written all over her face.

"No, not at all," he lied. "I'm fine. Just frustrated." Frederick stared straight ahead for about five seconds. Knowing before he did it that it was a huge mistake, he asked, "How's Bill?"

Anne didn't speak. Frederick turned his gaze her way and found her frowning at the doors.

"Is something wrong with you?" he asked.

Anne shrugged. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"What do you mean?" Frederick asked as the doors opened to the lobby. He motioned for Anne to step off ahead of him. She glanced around, looking for Bill. When she found no one, she turned to him.

"I'll buy you a drink and tell you," she said. "If you want to hear me blather on about it, that is."

"There's nothing I'd like more," he told her honestly, following her into the bar. She bought herself a Diet Pepsi and him a Dr. Pepper. He frowned at the first taste. "I could use something stronger than this."

"Probably so, but you're not going to drink yourself into oblivion like you have of late," she said cheerfully, touching her glass to his before taking a sip of her soda.

"I haven't been drinking myself into oblivion."

"Then how come every time I see you, you're either in the bar or headed in that direction?" Anne pierced him with those violet eyes, a knowing look on her face. "What happened with Hannah isn't entirely your fault, you know."

"I know that, but we've already talked about what's bothering me. What's wrong with you?" Frederick was hoping she'd tell him that Bill had tried to make a move on her, or that she'd discovered he was married to three other women, or anything that made him look bad.

Anne took another drink of her Diet Pepsi. "I...have absolutely no reason not to like Bill Ellison. He's been a perfect gentleman on all our dates. He's taken me to dinners and a movie and even the theater when we were in Washington D.C., so really, there's nothing about him to dislike. He's hardly mentioned the fact that he still wants to be my agent."

"But still..." Frederick prompted her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. There's something about him that isn't...right. Does that sound bad? Something's off? He's attentive, friendly...he hasn't even made a move on me."

"That's what's wrong with him," Frederick joked, taking another drink from his Dr. Pepper. "He's not normal. No normal man would go five seconds looking at you and not try to make a move."

Anne smiled. "Thanks for that. But it's not the fact that he hasn't even tried to kiss me that bothers me. There's just something about him that doesn't seem right."

"Seem right?"

Anne took another drink of her soda, set it down, and toyed with the glass for a minute. "I probably shouldn't be bothering you with this. I mean, it's not like you don't have problems of your own to worry about."

"Aah, don't worry about that. My problems will work themselves out, I hope. Back to you. Something about Bill doesn't seem right to you, and you're not sure what it is." Under normal circumstances, Frederick would've been in knots talking to Anne about another man, but since she seemed to be having problems with Bill, he wasn't bothered at all.

You are a horrible person, Frederick Wentworth. You should be willing to talk about Bill Ellison with Anne even if she were to tell you that he's the man she wants to marry, not just to scope out a potential rival.

"Exactly. Maybe you've got it right, and I don't want him to treat me with such respect. But I don't think so." Anne took yet another drink. "He asks a lot of questions."

"What kind of questions? Intimate ones?" Frederick finished his soda and motioned to the bartender to bring him another, forgetting completely that he was ordering another Dr. Pepper and not something alcoholic. "Ones about us?"

"No, not exactly. A lot of questions about my family and Susan and what happened with them. He's only mentioned you once, to ask how long I was in England learning from Jamie."

"I remember asking a lot of questions about your family...and Susan. You didn't think I was strange, did you?"

Anne shook her head. "It's the way he asks. You know what? I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. You're voicing grounded opinions, really."

"You think so? I'm sure if I were to talk to someone else, they'd think I was being ridiculous. I mean, men like Bill don't just walk into your life every day." Anne frowned. "Although it was sort of strange the way it came about. I mean, it's common knowledge in the skating community that I'm estranged from my family, so why would he ask my father about me?"

"He talked to your father?"

"Yeah. He said that he'd talked to my father about me, then Susan. Most people probably aren't aware that I'm not with Susan anymore, but like I said, everyone knows about my father. So why did he talk to him first?"

"That's a good question. You should ask him about it," Frederick suggested. He had a few other questions he could've told her to ask, such as why Bill was hanging about when surely he had other clients to see, and why he'd wanted Anne specifically...

"I think I will," Anne said. "It's a legitimate question."

"Excuse me, Miss Elliot?"

Frederick looked up to see a petite young woman with red hair and bright green eyes smiling down at them. She was holding an ink pen in her trembling hands. Anne smiled at the girl. "Yes," she said.

"Oh, my God! I thought it was you, but my sister Nellie said it wasn't. Wait until I tell her that it was! She'll die! You're, like, my favorite figure skater of all time, even above Rich Fitzwilliam, although I like him for different reasons than I like you, of course! Would it be possible for me to get your autograph?"

"Sure," Anne said, extending her hand for the pen. She fumbled through her purse. She found her address book, from which she tore out a sheet of paper. "Will this be okay or do you have something you'd prefer I sign?" she asked.

"I didn't think to bring anything. I just found the pen in my purse. Normally, I carry, like, ten tons of receipts from shopping, but I just cleaned my purse out so I had nothing. Isn't that the luck? That'll do great."

"Okay, then. What's your name?"

"Um, it's Nora." Nora peered over Anne's shoulder as Anne neatly wrote,

Nora laughed. "She is so gonna die when I show her. Thanks a lot!"

"You're welcome," Anne said. Nora disappeared, no doubt to brag to her sister about the autograph she'd gotten and how nice Anne Elliot had been. Anne turned back to Frederick, who was looking at her with admiration.

"I'm impressed at how well you handled that," he told her. "You're usually not so good with autograph fiends."

"She was just a girl," Anne replied. "And she had a funny story. You know that I'm a sucker for a funny story."

"Yeah." Frederick smiled. "I never told you how thrilled I was when you won gold."

"Seriously?" Anne's eyebrows rose skeptically. "I thought you hated my guts until recently. You certainly seemed like you did when I saw you at that first lunch we had on this tour."

Frederick shook his head. "No, I never hated you. I just thought I did. You know, Annie..." Frederick looked around. Twice, he'd tried to have this talk with her. Twice, they'd been interrupted. Bill was due any minute, and who knew when Jamie might call, or perhaps Hannah at last. But by God, he was going to try his hardest to say what he wanted to say. "Annie, I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what?"

"I'm sorry that I didn't come to see you after you left England. I should've set my stupid pride aside and come."

"Why? I didn't. We're equally to blame for what happened."

"But I still feel I owe you an apology. I feel that Susan owes us both a great one, but I doubt I'll ever get one from her."

"At this point, I doubt I ever get one from her, and she supposedly cares about my well-being." Anne sighed. "I've had so much trouble accepting her role in this, much more trouble than I've had accepting my own. So much went wrong, and because we were young and stupid, we allowed it to happen. But it's over now."

"Yes, it's over, but..." Frederick took her hand and was surprised to find that it was trembling slightly. "Anne, is there any chance that..."

"We could be friends? I don't see why not. It's what I've been thinking lately."

Friends? Frederick's heart sank. It wasn't what he'd wanted when he brought the topic up, and it wasn't enough to satisfy him. But by saying it, Anne was clearly indicating that she wanted nothing more than that from him now.

"Sure," he said weakly. "We were good friends before...well, everything. We'll be friends again."

Anne nodded and glanced at her watch. "Well, he's officially an hour late."

"We haven't been down here that long," Frederick pointed out.

"Yes, well, I was running behind today because my hair wouldn't do anything...frizzing like crazy, as usual. I thought cutting it would alleviate that problem somewhat, but it seems to have made it worse. Then I accidentally got a stain on the dress I intended to wear from my perfume oil, so I had to wear this. By that time, I was running late. Only it seems like he is, too."

"You're wearing a lovely dress."

"Oh..." Anne looked down at it as though she'd never seen it before. "Thanks."

"Nice watch, too." Frederick bit his tongue before asking if Bill had given it to her.

"Thanks again. I've had it lying around in my suitcase forever and decided to wear it tonight. I hardly ever wear watches, you know, but I figured that I'd paid good money for it. I might as well wear it once in a great while." Anne stood up. Instinctively, Frederick rose as well. "I think I'm going to go back up to my room to wait. He might've left a message or something."

"Right," Frederick said.

"Thanks for listening to my nonsense. I...um, I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem."

Anne started to walk away when suddenly, she turned back and smiled. Frederick was taken aback by it, just as he had been eight years ago at that airport in England. "You know, if we were to go by your standards, you're not a normal man, either."

"Oh? In what way?"

"You didn't try to make a move within five seconds of being near me." Her smile was impish, and irresistible.

Frederick, in a swift move which surprised them both, crossed the short distance between them and kissed her gently. In less than ten seconds, he knew that friendship wasn't going to be enough for him. When it came to Anne Elliot, he would settle for nothing less than her heart.

Continued In Next Section