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Part 25

Hannah was released from the hospital three days later, but reluctant to travel back to England until she felt well enough to have it out with Frederick, she opted to stay in a moderately-priced hotel in the Boston area. Dr. Janaway had been in favor of this as well, so that if he could monitor her progress in the weeks after the accident.

To Hannah's surprise, Jamie also elected to stay in Boston until she was well enough to return to England. It wasn't that she didn't want him to stay, because he'd been a wonderful constant in her life ever since she'd awakened. In fact, she'd surprised herself by feeling a little sad as she was being released from the hospital----not because she wanted to stay, but because she knew that it meant Jamie would leave, either to return to England or to join Frederick on tour. But then Jamie told her he was staying. At first, she had tried to convince him to leave when he'd arrived at her hotel with his own bags and announced his intentions.

"There's no need for you to stay here," she'd insisted. "I'm a grown woman and I can do just fine on my own. Besides, shouldn't you be with your students or Frederick?"

"Freddie doesn't need me now, and my two assistants are taking care of my students. The summer is usually not as busy for unknown amateurs as it is for those who are known or professional skaters. No tours and such, just practice, practice, practice."

Hannah smiled ruefully. "You know what they say about practice and how it makes perfect." The two of them stepped to the front desk, where Jamie politely enquired about a room. He was quickly informed that there was only one available, and when he was given the keys, Hannah said with surprise, "That's right next to my room!"

"Is it? Just as well, then, since I intend to keep a close eye on you until you go back home."

Hannah was immediately suspicious. "Did Frederick insist that you stay?" she asked. "Does he want you to keep an eye on me so that I cause no more mischief for him on this tour? Because if that's the only reason you're here and you have something better to do, you can leave."

Jamie just stared at her. "I would've thought by now you knew that I do nothing I don't want to do." He walked calmly to the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Hannah followed after him, unsure of what that meant.

The elevator opened and Jamie stepped inside. She darted in and stood beside him, waiting for the doors to close. She stared at the button which would stop the elevator, remembering with some discomfort the elevator she'd been stuck in with Lizzy and Anne. "I don't think I'm ever going to comfortable in an elevator again," she confessed.

"Why is that?" Jamie asked.

"Didn't Frederick tell...of course he didn't. A few days...well, it's been longer than that now. But I got stuck in an elevator when we first got to Boston. I don't recommend it."

Jamie laughed. "I can see why you're uncomfortable."

The elevator started its' ascension, and with some hesitation, Hannah spoke again. "Jamie, I hope I didn't offend you by insinuating that Frederick was ordering you to stay with me. That's not what I meant. I just thought that he might've asked you to stay and really, I don't need a baby-sitter."

"I'm not here in a baby-sitting capacity. I'm here to make sure you're going to be all right. That's why I stayed in the first place." Jamie stared at the numbers at the top of the door, watching as they increased. "Maybe I shouldn't have."

Hannah looked at him. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

Jamie looked at her. "Because if Frederick had stayed, maybe you wouldn't be so mad at him now."

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds; finally, Hannah broke away and said quietly, "That's not why I'm refusing to speak to him."

"Isn't it? Isn't part of your anger at him due to his not being here when you woke up? Isn't there a part of you that thinks he doesn't care because he didn't stay? I'm the one who convinced him it would be best if he left, and although I'm not having misgivings, I can't honestly say that given the same situation I wouldn't do the same thing again."

"I know he cares about me," Hannah said softly as the elevator doors opened to their floor. She stepped off first and waited for him to step out before continuing. "I just can't help but wonder if his concern is because of my accident or because he still loves me."

"He still calls me, every day, and asks to speak to you. The first question he asks is if you're ready to talk to him. And he's always disappointed when I tell him no." Jamie wasn't entirely certain about the last part, but he didn't figure it would hurt to include it. "I think that's good proof that..."

Hannah shook her head. "He doesn't love me anymore," she said quietly, walking to the door of her room. Jamie stopped in front of the door next to hers.

"Let me put my things in here before we continue this conversation." Jamie unlocked the door, tossed his suitcases inside, and shut the door again before Hannah even had her door unlocked.

"There's no point," she said. "What is there to say? He doesn't love me anymore. I knew it the minute I woke up and saw you instead of him." With a firm yank, she got the door open.

"Then I'm right, and you're angry because he wasn't there." Jamie waited for her to invite him inside. Hannah hesitated before motioning for him to join her.

"There are a lot of reasons for me to be angry with Frederick Wentworth, not the least of which is the fight we had just prior to what happened. I could bring up the fact that when I told him I was pregnant he totally froze, or that he admitted to still being in love with Anne, or..."

"We've been over the ground several times now," Jamie said. He took a seat on her bed. "Hannah, what do you want to happen now?"

Hannah frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You've refused to speak to him since you woke up. You're angry----justifiably so. What do you want to happen now? Do you want to get back together with him? Do you want to move on with your life and forget you ever knew Frederick Wentworth? What happens between you and Frederick is in your hands."

"No, it never was. I was with Frederick because Anne Elliot wasn't. Our future was always in her hands, although she didn't know it and I doubt she does now. My relationship with Frederick was doomed the minute Anne agreed to join that tour. It just took longer than most endings took."

"It's not over yet," Jamie argued. "You haven't bothered to talk to him, so how can it be over?"

Hannah took a seat beside him. "You're right," she agreed quietly. "I need to talk to him, and preferably soon. I need to tell him that it's over. It'll be better if we talk in person, but...but maybe I should just call him."

"Talk to him in person," Jamie advised. "You can't break up with someone over the phone. It's insensitive. Be courteous and see him in person. It'll do you more good to have it out in the open, face-to-face."

Hannah was puzzled. "Why are you agreeing that he should break up with me?" she asked. "Isn't he your friend?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hannah knew what Jamie was about. "Oh, I get it. He wants to break up with me and he's using you to act as his go-between."

Jamie glared at her. "I would not do any such thing," he said coolly. "I love Frederick like he was a younger brother, but I wouldn't let him treat anyone so shabbily."

"Not even me?" Hannah finished caustically, memories of Jamie's opinion of her surfacing.

"Especially not you," Jamie said hotly. His face grew bright red and he stood up abruptly. Hannah nearly fell off the bed due to the change in the mattress, but righted herself in time to see him giving her an embarrassed look before storming out of the room.

Hannah was left to stare at the closed door in confusion.

Frederick was waiting backstage for the opening music to begin. He was in line behind Anne, unable to do anything but take his eyes off the pale blonde ponytail that bobbed about her head whenever she moved. It was shorter now, but he had to admit that the new, shorter style suited her well. It made her ponytail even curlier. And with the change in the opening program, he now had to watch that ponytail bob up and down for several moments before the show began.

Had it really been three days since that crazy moment when he'd kissed her, when he'd known that no other woman would ever mean as much to him as she did? Oddly enough, it had been. And even more oddly, he didn't think he'd ever skated better than in the last three days, not even the night he won his gold medal. He didn't think he'd felt so good in eight years, not since the day before Alyssa Elliot had arrived in England, when things had been going so well between them.

There were only two problems in his foreseeable future. First of all, he had to settle things with Hannah, and he wasn't sure how he could do that without looking like a first-class jerk to both Hannah and Anne. He knew that if he didn't do this the right way, Anne wouldn't come back to him because she would feel guilty over Hannah's hurt. But at the same time, he knew that he couldn't stay with Hannah, not with his long-buried feelings for Anne coming to the surface. It wouldn't be fair to Hannah. She deserved to be with someone who could make her happy, and he knew now that he wasn't the person who could do that for her.

His other problem was Anne herself. Frederick was convinced that they were meant to be together, but he wasn't sure if Anne felt the same way. Well, to be honest, he knew she didn't feel the same way, because she'd avoided him as much as she could since it had happened, and he'd seen her from his hotel room window last night stepping into a cab with Bill Ellison. The sight of the two of them together should've depressed his spirits, but he'd noticed even from his window that things weren't so romantic as he'd thought at first. Bill was too slick, from the production he made of opening the cab door for Anne to the way he had flattered her. Frederick hadn't been able to see Anne's face from his window, but he knew from the way her body had instinctively stiffened when Bill put his hand on her elbow that she wasn't buying it.

Despite that, she'd still gone out with the shark.

Maybe you came on too strong, given everything that's happened between you two, he thought to himself as the lights in the arena went dim, indicating that the show was about to start. Maybe kissing her was the wrong thing to do, but dammit, she was irresistible.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, George Knightley is proud to bring to you...The Fire on Ice Tour!" A loud roar of applause from the audience, which only grew louder as Carl Denny shot away from the boards, picking up speed before doing his opening back flip. He was followed by several other skaters, who were introduced by the announcer to varying degrees of applause. Anne stepped out onto the ice and joined the others, the spotlight hitting her moments before she was introduced.

Frederick almost missed his entrance because he stayed to watch as she prepared for her jump, a triple salchow. She completed the jump gracefully and gave a wide smile to the audience. If one were to watch her, they would think she was completely at home in the spotlight, with a large crowd watching her. Only Frederick could see beyond that, could see that she was still as nervous today as she'd been during the opening performance.

And then he was off, picking up speed to perform a triple Axel, which he did flawlessly and to warm applause. The moment his feet were back on the ice, heading to take a place by the boards until they were all to go on the ice to finish the opening, his mind went back to Anne. The way her lips had felt, the way she'd smelled, the ache in his body when the kiss was over...

The way his body was reacting now, with her not ten feet away from him. Frederick looked at her and caught her eyes staring back at him. Although the lights were low, he could tell just from the gleam in them that she was thinking the exact same thing as he was.

It gave him even more hope as the music changed and everyone prepared to take the ice for the end of the opening number. Frederick threw his whole heart into it, because he knew that Anne was struggling with her emotions and probably some guilt at the thought of Hannah, but she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her. And while he wasn't going to be overconfident and tell himself that they were going to get back together with absolute certainty----God knew that nothing had come easily to them----he felt a hell of a lot better about the situation.

What amazed Anne the most about the past three days was how well she'd been sleeping, or rather, the fact that she had been able to sleep at all. After Frederick had kissed her, she was certain she'd never be able to sleep again.

For a few seconds, for the length of one kiss, eight years had drifted away and she was lost in a feeling so familiar it seemed to be as natural as breathing to her. In that kiss, she'd felt as though she were finally back where she belonged, in Frederick's arms...even though he hadn't put his arms around her and their kiss seemed like nothing more than a flirtation.

Then she'd stepped away from him and thought the spell was broken. Only when she got back to her room, her mind kept replaying that kiss, over and over again. The way he'd looked right before he'd kissed her. The way his lips---warm and gentle---felt against hers. The way her heart had raced and her mind had cried out that this was so right. She never even noticed that Bill never did show up or even bother to call because her mind was too focused on reliving that moment where it felt like two hearts had come together at last.

You're making too much about it, she tried to tell herself. It was just a kiss. Frederick did it because you challenged him to do it, not because he's fallen in love with you again.

But somehow, Anne was certain that there was more to it. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And as she stepped off the ice after the opening number ended, she decided to find a quiet place to contemplate everything that had happened from the luncheon to just a moment ago, when he'd turned to look at her as though he knew what she was feeling.

Anne decided to hide in the bathroom, where she might occasionally be bothered by someone coming in but would at least have a modicum of privacy. Besides, Frederick could not follow her into the ladies' room. She walked in and took a seat on a bench. She leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the faint but audible sounds of Carl Denny's music being played. It was hard not to smile at his music choice, even if it did make his wife, Charlotte, shake her head in disgust at times.

But back to Frederick. Had he fallen in love with her again? Had he always been in love with her, as he'd said the day Hannah had her accident? To answer that question, she doubted he would've lied to Hannah no matter how upset he'd been with her that day. Which meant that yes, Frederick had always been in love with her, even when he'd hated her. But the same thing applied to her, because she'd always loved him. She'd certainly never forgotten him. She hadn't even dated since that time.

You're not going to get all upset because he fell in love with someone else, are you? He thought you'd abandoned him, betrayed him with that awful letter. He had a right to fall in love with someone else.

No, Anne admitted to herself, she couldn't fault him for being with someone else, even if she hadn't been. She couldn't fault his choice of Hannah for a girlfriend, either, because she was sure Frederick wouldn't choose someone dreadful. Anne was sure that under normal circumstances, Hannah Musgrove was a wonderful young woman, possibly someone Anne would've liked. Anne knew that her behavior in the elevator was due to some sort of jealousy and could excuse it.

But even if Hannah as awful as she'd been acting around Anne, it still didn't change the fact that Frederick had spent three years of his life with her. If Frederick was thinking about ending it with Hannah in order to try again with her...well, Anne wasn't sure how comfortable she was with that. It wasn't that she thought he was fickle, because she knew he wasn't. If she wasn't convinced that what was happening between them now hadn't been bubbling under the surface all these years and instead had come about recently, she wouldn't give Frederick a second thought. But she knew they were unfinished business. She knew they deserved another chance.

She just didn't know if she could live with herself if she hurt another woman the way she herself had been hurt eight years ago. Anne knew how that felt and she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. (Actually, she would, since her worst enemy was her sister Alyssa, but anyone she disliked after Alyssa didn't deserve it.)

And anyway, until that look they'd exchanged just moments ago, it seemed to her like Frederick had gone out of his way to avoid her. If she were perfectly honest with herself, she would admit to doing the same. After that kiss, she hadn't known how to act around him because she was trying to figure out what the kiss had meant. She'd been in such confusion that she'd readily accepted Bill's excuse the following day of an emergency with a neurotic tennis player he'd spent half the night on the phone calming down. Then she'd accepted a date with him, although the whole night she'd spent in turmoil that wasn't helped by her continued reaction to Bill.

Anne allowed her mind to shift slightly and think about something Bill had told her last night. He had a surprise, he'd said, a wonderful surprise that he'd been arranging for a few days for her. Anne had asked him what it was, but he'd just smiled coyly and told her that in about a week, she'd know. And then he'd raised the subject that hadn't been raised since their first night out, about her representation. Although she knew it would be the sensible move for her to agree to let him be her agent, Anne was still hesitant about it. She lied and told him she'd been too busy to think about it, claiming that her skating was a little off and she was trying to keep her distractions to a minimum. Not only had he not taken offense, he'd thanked her for going out with him.

Anne wasn't sure what to make of him, but at night when she compared him with Frederick, Bill would've been disappointed to know that he was losing out big time. Which, of course, brought her mind back to Frederick. And the feelings of guilt she had because whatever happened between them, Hannah was going to be the one getting hurt.

Hannah sat face-down on the bed, her head resting on her folded arms. The television was on but she had no idea what she was watching. She'd turned it on mostly so that she didn't have to sit in silence, which would've driven her mad.

She'd treated Jamie badly, and Hannah knew it. Instead of being grateful that he'd been there for her when she'd awakened, she'd been furious because he wasn't Frederick. She wasn't even sure if she'd ever thanked him for staying at her bedside when she knew it had to have been excruciating for him to do so. And now, when he'd told her point-blank that he was still here because he wanted to be, she'd scoffed and acted like she didn't need him at all.

But she didn't need him, she told herself. After all, he'd never liked her. He made no secret of this fact. At the same time, he didn't have to stay all that extra time and he didn't need to stay now, but he'd said he intended to and she couldn't figure out why. It certainly wasn't because she'd been overly nice to him.

Hannah felt a headache coming on and rolled over so that she was lying on her back. Maybe in the past few days things had gotten better between them. They'd seemed to get along well. They'd talked about the good times, when she'd had Frederick and Phoebe had still been alive. Hannah was surprised at how easily Jamie had talked of Phoebe, because she knew how difficult it had been since her death. But to her surprise, she realized that they'd talked about a great deal more. They'd talked about things they had in common, something Hannah had been sure wouldn't take long to do. They both liked beaches at sunset, Aerosmith, used bookshops over giant bookstores because they had more character. Little inconsequential things that Hannah was certain Jamie wouldn't like, but he'd felt the same way. Oh, sure, he didn't agree with her lack of interest in the Beatles, and she would never understand why he thought Stephen King was a brilliant writer, but...

But why was she thinking about Jamie? Why wasn't she thinking of Frederick? Why wasn't she calling Frederick to tell him things were over between them? She thought about what Jamie had said, about needing to end it face-to-face. He was right, and the sooner she got it over with, the better. She picked up the phone on the nightstand next to the bed and dialed Frederick's cell phone number. It didn't surprise her to get his voice mail.

"Frederick? This is Hannah. I know you won't recognize the number, but I'm at a hotel. I was released from the hospital this morning. Um...I think we need to have a talk, and fairly soon. My doctor thinks it's a good idea if I stay in Boston for now, so if you get a free day of something, give me a call and let me know you can come to see me. It's very important that we talk. Um...bye."

She hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure Jamie out. If Frederick hadn't asked him to stay with her, if he wasn't staying out of some sense of obligation to Frederick, then why was he staying? And if he was staying out of the goodness of his heart, didn't that mean she owed him an apology?

With a sigh, she rose from the bed, intent on tapping on Jamie's door and offering him an apology. She knew, deep in her heart, that she really did need Jamie to be here. If, God forbid, something were to happen to her, she'd need him around to drive her back to the hospital. And more importantly, she found that she wanted him to be here. But when she opened the door, Jamie was already standing there.

"Jamie?" was all she could get out before he kissed her.

Frederick came off the ice after his performance, sweating heavily but smiling. He couldn't remember much of the performance outside of the beginning and ending, and the applause, but he knew he'd done well because everyone he ran into was slapping him on the back and telling him he'd done a great job. George Knightley himself had shaken his hand and said he'd never seen him skate better.

Frederick accepted all the praise graciously and went in search of his cell phone, deciding once and for all that he was going to talk to Hannah. If he had to threaten Jamie with the prospect of breaking up with her over the telephone, so be it. At least it would make her take the phone, where Frederick could arrange for the two of them to meet and end things.

Frederick walked into the men's dressing room and found his duffel bag. He hunted through spare laces and his warm-up outfit, street clothes and tennis shoes until he found what he was looking for. He was surprised to find that he'd received a phone call. The phone number wasn't familiar, but when he played back the message, the person who'd called was.

"Frederick? This is Hannah. I know you won't recognize the number, but I'm at a hotel. I was released from the hospital this morning. Um...I think we need to have a talk, and fairly soon. My doctor thinks it's a good idea if I stay in Boston for now, so if you get a free day of something, give me a call and let me know you can come to see me. It's very important that we talk. Um...bye."

Frederick listened to the message again, recognizing it for what it was. He tried to ascertain whether or not she'd been crying, but her voice sounded fine. Just a little sad was all, and that was to be expected if this was what he believed it was. Frederick sat down heavily, sadness washing over him. He was surprised at that, the sadness, though he knew it would be bad if he had to admit it. He'd been with Hannah for three years. He'd loved her, in his own way. That the relationship wasn't going to work out wasn't her fault, but entirely his. And he knew that when they did talk about it, he was going to hurt her, though he would try his best not to do that.

Frederick found his organizer in his duffel bag and rooted through it until he came up with the list of cities they would be touring. The closest to Boston he was going to get within the next three weeks was Cincinnati, it appeared, because the tour was making its' way west. He dialed the number on his phone and waited patiently for Hannah to pick up.

"Hello?" Hannah's voice was slurred and sleepy.

"Hannah? It's Frederick. I'm sorry that I awakened you...I didn't know you'd be resting."

"It's all right." There was a pause. "I get tired easily these days." There was a long, uncomfortable silence before she spoke again. "You got my message."

"Yes, I did." Frederick stared at the floor. "We're going to be as close as we can be in about three weeks, but if you want, I can miss a performance and fly up to see you right...as soon as you want me to." He realized it would sound bad to say he could fly up to see her right away when they both knew he was coming to end the relationship.

"Three weeks is fine," she said slowly. "I'll...see you then." And without even saying goodbye, she hung up the phone. On the other end, Frederick stared at his cell phone for quite a while, feeling like a first-class jerk.

Part 26

Under normal circumstances, Jamie Benwick might've felt terrible for what he'd done the day before. After all, it wasn't every day that he kissed the girlfriend of his top student. In fact, it might be said that the action had been completely out of the ordinary for him. And having gone so far as to do it, Jamie had thought he would feel so horrible about it that he would stop thinking about Hannah Musgrove altogether.

But the circumstances weren't normal. That kiss hadn't been normal, either, and so he was almost exactly where he'd been yesterday at this time----thinking about Hannah Musgrove without the slightest bit of guilt over the fact that she was still Frederick's girlfriend.

He did wish that he'd said something after he'd kissed her, though. When Hannah had opened the door before he could knock, he'd been startled enough. Then he'd kissed her and he'd felt the stirring of emotions he hadn't felt since...well, since Phoebe had died. Emotions he'd convinced himself he'd buried with her were suddenly there, telling him that they weren't gone.

If he felt guilty about anything, it was that. Phoebe had been dead only a year. He'd kept in weekly contact with Nathan and the rest of her family. They'd given him a shoulder to cry on at his worst moment, which had fallen on the anniversary of their first official date, and he'd let them cry on his shoulder through those first family holidays without her. It seemed wrong, somehow, to be thinking of another woman so soon. It was a disservice to Phoebe, and everything they'd shared together, to even consider it.

And yet he did.

The question that puzzled him was why. He'd known Hannah Musgrove almost as long as Freddie had, and from the first she hadn't liked him all that well. He'd been indifferent to her, for the most, feeling that she demanded more time than Frederick could afford to take away from his skating. Jamie had tried telling her once that after Frederick won his gold medal, she could have all the time in the world with him, but that at the moment he needed to focus on his career. Big mistake, of course. Hannah had given him a dressing-down about poking his nose into her private life that had him seething for days.

She'd been right, though. Jamie had seen that after some time had passed, but he'd never have admitted it to her. He figured she would've been smug if he'd apologized, but maybe not. Probably not now.

Jamie was surprised at how well they were getting along these days, considering how they hadn't cared for each other before then. Although it had only been a couple of weeks since she'd awakened from her accident, he felt as though he had a rapport with her that he hadn't had with anyone since Phoebe.

If your every thought is going to take you back to Phoebe, shouldn't that be a sign that it's too soon for you to even think about moving on with your life?

Jamie closed his eyes and thought of Phoebe. Bright red curls framing an oval face with a creamy complexion, hazel eyes with flecks of gold...

He frowned. Phoebe hadn't had hazel eyes. Her eyes had been gray. Hannah was the one with the hazel eyes. Hannah's skin was creamy, whereas Phoebe's had been pale and freckled. Not that he'd ever minded freckles----in fact, he'd loved every single one of them. But the fact that Phoebe's features were beginning to blur with Hannah's disturbed him. This shouldn't be happening, not to him. He had loved Phoebe and he would always love Phoebe.

For some reason, someone needed to tell his heart that before it was too late and he found himself falling in love with a bothersome young woman like Hannah Musgrove.

I am not in love with him. There is absolutely no way I could possibly be in love with that bossy, presumptuous man. I've had a healthy dislike of him ever since Frederick and I started going out. There is no way I can fall in love with Jamie Benwick.

Hannah sat in her hotel room, pretending that she wasn't avoiding Jamie by not leaving. The television was on to an episode of CSI, but although Hannah rather liked the show, she wasn't paying much attention to it. Her thoughts were instead focused on the notebook she had opened and written on. More specifically, her thoughts could be said to be laying about her bed in crumpled-up balls of wasted paper, each page an attempt by Hannah to list all the reasons she was not going to fall in love with Jamie, whether she'd listed reasons she was still in love with Frederick to lists of how she was going to win Frederick back.

All her efforts netted her was the unsettling feeling that she was starting to fall in love with Jamie, which was a ridiculous thought. Although she'd known him almost as long as she'd known Frederick, they hadn't gotten to know each other in any way until after her accident, which had only been a short time ago. People didn't fall in love so fast, and if they did, they were fools. And as Hannah had so often told herself with pride, she was no fool.

So now she was back to this, to a blank sheet of paper with two names written on it, a line drawn in the middle, and every thought of making a list of virtues and vices for each man. She was sure that when she'd finished, she'd have a nice list of virtues for Frederick, and an arm's length list of vices for Jamie.

Frederick

1. Devastatingly attractive.
2. Wonderful sense of humour.
3. Talented and famous.
4. Intelligent.
5. A bit stubborn at times.
6. Decidedly close-mouthed about serious issues, such as former girlfriends.
7. Impossible to argue with as always thinks he is right.
8. Infantile deserter when he thought I lied to him.

Hannah bit her lip and decided that the last one was a bit harsh. Jamie had explained to her several times why it had been the right decision for Frederick not to be about when she woke up. It wasn't Frederick or Jamie's fault that she was finding it very difficult to place herself in their shoes. Then again, she wondered if maybe she was so upset about that decision because she knew she would've acted the same way Frederick had if their roles had been reversed, if she had discovered he was lying to her and was unable to get at the truth for several days.

So in all honesty, she couldn't keep number eight. Besides, he hadn't exactly deserted her, not even since she'd awakened and refused to speak to him.

8. In love with another woman.

That was really what everything came down to with Frederick. He loved Anne, and he was going to go on loving Anne no matter what. So listing his virtues and vices made no difference at all, because she'd called him to make plans for the final break and was expecting him to show up soon. Hannah blinked back tears and turned away from her notebook to contemplate that fact. It was half an hour before she returned to the notebook and her list, this time to write down everything that bothered her about Jamie.

Jamie

1. Too OLD (40ish?).
2. Not nearly as handsome as Frederick.
3. Impossible to argue with as always thinks he is right.
4. Has shown control-freak tendencies.
5. Abrasive and arrogant.

Again, that last one wasn't fair. Jamie wasn't really all that abrasive or arrogant, or at least he hadn't seemed that way to her lately. And when she thought about it, most of the reasons she hadn't liked him had very little to do with his attitude overall, just his attitude toward Frederick and how he should be spending his time, which she felt she'd covered with number four on this list. So she crossed number five out and wrote instead:

5. Can be rude, can be very polite.
6. Compassionate toward others.

She wouldn't have known about that one except one of her nurses always commented about Jamie's daily visits to the children's ward. Hannah had been surprised to hear that Jamie always took the sick children books and games to play, and stayed behind to read the occasional story or two before he had gone back to her. Although she'd known deep down that Jamie wasn't an ogre, she'd never heard of him doing something nice like that.

Except, of course, for his unstinting vigil at her bedside.

7. Thoughtful.
8. A wonderful kisser.

Aaah, she should cross that one off, too. One kiss did not an incredible kisser make, no matter how nice it had felt. Frederick's kisses had been fantastic, too. So if she listed that for Jamie, she should definitely list it for Frederick, because she had more experience with his kisses. She went back and did that before going back to Jamie.

9. In love with another woman.

Hannah sighed. After playing an unknowing second fiddle to the ghost of one woman, did she really want to do it again? After some thought, she decided that no, she didn't. Which made this whole debate meaningless, because she wasn't going to fall in love with Jamie and she no longer loved Frederick.

With a frustrated rip, she tore the page out of her notebook and balled it up. She tossed it to the floor, where it joined the other sheets of paper. She was about to shut her notebook altogether when the phone rang. She froze. She knew it had to be Jamie, because he hadn't called all day or tapped on her door to check and see how she was doing. But it might be her parents, because they hadn't called today, either. And there was an outside chance that it might be Frederick, telling her he was in town after all and ready to get it over with. So she had to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly.

"Hannah, are you all right?" It was Jamie, of course.

Is it possible for a person's hopes to rise and fall at the same time? Hannah wondered idly as she replied, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No particular reason," he admitted. "I just thought I would call to be sure."

There was a lengthy silence. Finally, Hannah said, "I called Frederick yesterday...before you came by."

Before you came by? That's all you can say about it? What's he going to think?

Then she asked herself, What am I supposed to say? How should I refer to a meeting that lasted just long enough for him to kiss me and leave?

"Hannah, you didn't hang up, did you?" he asked, snapping Hannah out of her thoughts.

"No, I didn't," she replied. "I was just thinking. What did you say?"

"I asked you what he said."

"He who?"

There was another long pause, and then Jamie said, "Frederick. What did Frederick say when you called him yesterday?"

"Oh, right, that. I didn't really speak to him. I got the voice mail on his cellular phone and left a message. Then he called me back and I was having a nap. I think he said he was coming to see me in three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Jamie exclaimed. "You finally decide to see him and he's making you wait three weeks?"

"He's not going to be anywhere near here until then," she protested. "Besides, I don't mind waiting." She frowned as she realized how passive that sounded. "That's not true. I do mind waiting, but what can I do? Join him again? That didn't work out well the last time. Besides, it would be expensive for me to fly out to see him."

"I suppose you have something of a point, but still, I would've thought he'd come flying up here as soon as you asked him to." Jamie sighed. "And it's not because he wants to end things with you right away, just because things are so unsettled between you..."

"I know what you meant," she said with an unexpected laugh.

"Have you had lunch yet? Because I haven't and I was wondering if you'd like to join me." The invitation sounded rushed and impromptu.

Hannah smiled. "I'd love it," she replied, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her that this might not be a good idea.

He couldn't wait three weeks.

The minute he'd stopped feeling like a first-class jerk, Frederick knew he couldn't wait three weeks to talk to Hannah. He wanted things settled with her before he even thought about moving forward, but he wanted to move forward more than he wanted air. Which meant he needed to see if he could take a day, maybe two, away from the tour.

Frederick hated to ask for the time, though, since Hannah was now better. He'd only missed one performance, and that was the day she'd had the accident. It seemed silly to ask for a day off so he could break up with her. It seemed cold-hearted to take a day off so he could break up with her.

So he was very reluctant to talk to George Knightley about wanting a day off to fly to Boston and back. He had a feeling that the man wouldn't understand. Who would? But especially not George. He was a family man who was devoted to Emma and his children. George would probably be furious to hear that Frederick wanted time off in order to break up with his girlfriend----a girlfriend who was still recovering from an accident he was mostly responsible for.

But he couldn't wait three weeks. Somehow, Frederick didn't think Hannah wanted to wait three weeks, either, but was humoring his schedule the way she always had.

Fresh guilt washed over him. How could he think about leaving this woman? She had been so wonderful to him. In fact, he had her to thank for making it possible for him to believe in love again. When he'd met Hannah, he'd been through a string of girlfriends who hadn't held his interest for more than a few months at a time because they weren't Anne. Hannah had been different from the start----she'd bloody insisted on it----and now he was leaving her at her most vulnerable.

But wasn't it better than the alternative? Hannah knew he didn't love her anymore. It wouldn't be fair to her to put off the inevitable and make them both miserable. She deserved better than him, no doubt about that. He had to do it. He had to take the chance that he was going to have to go AWOL if George Knightley wouldn't give him permission to leave.

Frederick arranged to meet George in the hotel restaurant, hoping that if he made the setting a public place, George wouldn't get so enraged.

The moment George arrived, Frederick feared his chances were slim and none. George did not looked pleased, although Frederick hadn't told him the reason for the meeting, so maybe George was bothered by something else. Still, the something else could ruin his chances of getting the day he needed to see Hannah.

George sat down, waited for the waiter to take his drink order, then turned to Frederick. "So, you wanted to ask me something," he said without preamble.

"Yes," Frederick said hesitantly. "But that can wait. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." The waiter had returned. George took a heavy drink of his scotch and soda, then set down the glass.

"Obviously something is bothering you," Frederick said. "Forgive me for prying, but...is it a personal problem? Sometimes it helps to talk about these things."

George shook his head. "It's not my problem. It's Emma's father."

"I see," Frederick said. "He doesn't like you?"

"Not since I married his daughter, no. When Emma and I were just dating, he liked me a lot because it meant he was still number one in her life. No matter what she was doing, she would run at the drop of a pin if he needed her. But then we got married, and Emma had Julia and Matty, and now she's not around to cater to his little whims anymore." George took another drink. "So he calls at least once a week, telling her all of his insignificant problems, and Emma feels guilty because she thinks she's abandoned him. The man's been a widower for nearly seventeen years and could have his pick of any woman in the retirement home he's at. But he's never even thought about remarriage, not because he holds any candles for Emma's mother, but because marrying someone else might focus his energies on someone other than his daughter."

"He's called today, then?"

George nodded. "Emma wants to take a few days off to see him and make sure everything's going well for him."

Oh, no. "What did you tell her?"

"I didn't answer her. I couldn't, or I would wind up saying something I would regret later. I love my wife more than anything in this world, but I can't stand her father. It was okay when we were dating. Then, he seemed like nothing more than a harmless old man who doted on his only daughter. Now, he's worse than a skater's smothering mother and bossy coach combined. So I was grateful when you called and asked me to meet you."

"I don't know how you'll take what I want to ask you." Frederick sighed and wondered if he really needed to tell George why he was going to see Hannah. Maybe he could just say he was going to see how she was doing and nothing more. "I need to leave the tour for a day."

"You do." George's face was impassive.

"Yes. Hannah's still in Boston and we...I...I need to see her."

George nodded. "I've heard there's been some trouble between the two of you. I was sorry to hear it, because I knew it was tearing you up inside. I don't have a problem with you leaving for a day. Did you think I would?"

"Perhaps."

"I'm not that great a monster, despite the rumors. You and Hannah need some time to be together. Do you just need a day?"

"Yes...but I guess I should be honest with you about why I'm going back to Boston. It's not so I can spend time with Hannah. It's because we're ending our relationship and I would feel better about the whole thing----if it's possible to feel good about doing something so lousy----if it happened in person." Frederick sighed. "I know that it's a lousy reason for needing a day off, but..."

"Don't even think twice. Go."

Frederick hesitated. "Seriously? I figured you wouldn't be happy with me for leaving on such a..."

George shook his head. "No. Above all other things, I like to have happy skaters on my tour. You haven't been very happy these few weeks, have you? I didn't understand at first, although I had heard the rumors about you and Anne Elliot several years ago. But now I think I do. You're in love with her, and in order to get back together with you, you need to be free of Hannah."

"Yes," Frederick said, amazed that George seemed to understand everything.

"Then go. It will make you happy, and it'll eventually make Anne happy as well. And I have an ulterior motive in your absence as well. If you're gone, I can tell Emma that she needs to wait to go visit her father until you return. Even if you're only gone a day, it'll help." George sighed. "I shouldn't say that. I should want Emma to be close to her father, but I can't do it. I know why, and it's not just because the man is a major pain in the neck."

"Why is it?"

"It's the way he treats Julia and Matty. Or rather, his lack of treatment. He's visited us on occasion, and other than asking how the children are, he doesn't want to talk about them. I don't think he's ever held Matty. He has no interest in them whatsoever, and I suspect that he secretly resents them for taking Emma's attention away from him. Can you imagine? A grandfather resenting his grandchildren like that? I tried to tell Emma that, but she just laughed it off. 'Of course Daddy loves the kids,' she'll say. Yeah, right."

"Are you sure you're all right with me going? I should only be gone for a day."

"Go ahead." George finished the last of his drink and ordered another one. "I think I'm going to eat something before I go back upstairs to fight with my wife. Care to join me?"

Something was going on. Anne didn't know what it was, but she knew something was going on because Bill was acting very strange. He had been all day, ever since he'd called abruptly to tell her that her surprise was ready for her sooner than he'd expected it to be, and would she be willing to meet him for dinner tonight in a private room at Mrs. Smith's, an exclusive restaurant in town?

"Well, of course I will," Anne had told him. "What time will you be coming to get me?"

"Oh, well, I won't be able to, you see," Bill said hastily. "The surprise...well, I have to make sure...well, you'll see why I can't be there to get you when you find out what it is. But to make up for it, I'll have a limousine pick you up at seven-thirty and bring you to the restaurant."

"Bill, would you at least give me a hint of what you're doing?" she asked. "I might not come if you don't tell me what it is."

"Too late. You already agreed to show up, and you don't want me to think you're a welsher, do you? It would be wrong of you not to keep your word." There was a long pause. "All right, I'll give you a hint of sorts. The surprise is something that should've been given to you a long time ago. You deserved to have this surprise in your life, and you didn't, and so I'm hoping that...well, that's more than enough. But you're going to love it. I just have a feeling that you will love this."

No amount of threatening or pleading would entreat him to tell her what it was, or give her any more clues than the one he already had given. Anne had had no choice but to agree to meet him, surprise unknown, at eight o'clock at Mrs. Smith's. She'd asked him what to wear, and he told her, "Dress to kill, darling."

Darling? Anne had thought, hanging up the phone. She had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what Bill was planning, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why Bill would propose marriage to her. He'd seemed to take an interest in her, but not that much of an interest. He still hadn't tried to kiss her. They barely knew each other----so why a proposal? He didn't seem like a man in love.

Despite her apprehensions, Anne dressed as Bill had suggested, digging through her suddenly-increasing clothes collection (the result of another shopping trip, this time comprise of Charlotte Denny and Elizabeth Darcy, who had spent most of their time oohing and ahhing over baby clothes) to find a black dress with spaghetti straps, a modest neckline, and an equally modest hemline which hit her right at the knees. After taking a quick shower, Anne rushed through the process of getting ready and found herself doing little more than twiddling her thumbs by six-thirty, a full hour before the limousine would be coming to take her to the restaurant.

Anne felt a knot in the pit of her stomach now that she had nothing to do but think about what Bill was planning. If it was a proposal, what did she say? She knew she didn't love him, but would she be able to say no in a public setting?

There was only one thing to be done. She grabbed the black bag which matched the dress and left her hotel room, catching the elevator empty and just as the doors were starting to shut. When she reached the main lobby, she approached the front desk and asked where Mrs. Smith's was located. She was given the address and told it wasn't very far away. Anne thanked the young woman at the front desk and stepped outside.

"Do you need a cab, Miss Elliot?" the doorman asked politely, taking in her outfit and correctly guessing that she wasn't walking anywhere in the high heels she wore.

"Yes, please," she replied. The man waited until a cab approached, then motioned with his hand for it to come to a stop. It did so, and he opened the door for her. "You didn't need to do that," she said.

"It's my pleasure, miss."

"Thank you," Anne replied, taking a twenty out of her purse and giving it to him before getting into the cab and giving the driver the address she had been given for the restaurant.

Despite the fact that it was only a short distance away, traffic became Anne's enemy. A fender bender three blocks from the hotel tied up traffic for twenty minutes, and it was seven-ten by the time Anne reached the restaurant, paid the driver and gave him a handsome tip, and got out of the cab.

She stared up at the building, which surprised her by being nothing more than a plain, two-story brick building that resembled someone's house more than it did a fine restaurant. She glanced to either side of the building to make sure the driver hadn't dropped her off somewhere else by mistake, but the other buildings looked suitably business-like. Finally, Anne spied a discreet sign which informed people that this place was indeed Mrs. Smith's. She made her to the door and opened it.

When she stepped inside, the smell of freshly-baked bread wafted her way. She inhaled deeply, for there was nothing next to the smell of fresh ice that she loved more than homemade bread. Anne was so enraptured by the smell that she almost missed the imposing maitre d' standing to one side of the door, staring at her as though she were an intruder. Although he was short of stature, his girth and the coldness of his dark eyes made up for it.

"Excuse me, miss, may I help you?" he thundered, causing Anne to jump. He smiled, a thin, oily smile that made her recoil again.

"I'm meeting someone here in a private dining room," Anne stammered. "But I'm a bit early."

"The private dining room? I'm afraid we have only one, and that party is here already. The gentleman informed us that it was a surprise for a young woman who would be arriving by limousine at eight, but..."

"Whole party?" Anne repeated. "What party?"

"I'm afraid I can't give that information out. I was told that the young woman----"

"I am the young woman they're waiting for," Anne said. "Anne Elliot. Didn't they give you my name?"

"They did, but that doesn't mean you're Anne Elliot. Anyone in this world could claim to be Anne Elliot, but it doesn't make it so."

Anne glared at him, frustrated, and pulled out the wallet she'd remembered at the last minute to stuff in her purse. She showed him her driver's license. "If this isn't proof enough, Your Majesty, I'll walk through your dining room and see if anyone recognizes me," she snapped.

"I don't care for that tone, young lady," he said, taking her wallet gingerly, as though it were crawling with disease, and giving her photo a disdainful look.

"I don't care for your attitude. Guess which one of us is more likely to be in trouble if I complain about it to your boss."

The man gave her a cold look before handing her the wallet. "Austen!" he called to a passing young man with unnaturally red hair. "Please escort Miss...Elliot to her party."

The man smiled at Anne. "Of course. Right this way, Miss Elliot."

Anne followed him for a few seconds, long enough to get away from that awful maitre d', before asking, "Who's waiting for me?"

Austen stopped. "Mr. Ellison and his guests."

"I know Mr. Ellison is waiting. Who are the guests, if you know?" Anne's stomach was starting to ache badly.

"I didn't catch any names, but I know there are three women and two men waiting with him. The two younger women look a little bit like you...do you have any sisters?"

Anne froze. "Yes," she replied. "Two sisters. Was one of them an anorexic blonde and the other a curvaceous brunette?"

"They must be your sisters, then," Austen said with a smile, "because you've described them perfectly."

Anne put a hand to her mouth, fearing that if she opened it again, she would vomit. So this had been Bill's big surprise then, to have her family ambush her in a semi-public setting where she couldn't escape. No wonder he'd spoken to her father and Susan first----he'd been in league with them all along.

But why?

"Are you coming, miss?" Austen asked when Anne didn't move. Anne could do nothing but stare at him, asking herself the same question and not coming up with any answers.

Part 27

Anne soon became aware of the scene she must be presenting to everyone in the restaurant by her refusal to move. Although she had said nothing to give away her shock and horror, the fact that she was standing in the middle of the dining room, unable to move, said a great deal. She could feel people's eyes on her, staring with I'll-disguised disdain. It was her worst nightmare, worse than being on the ice in front of thousands of people without a costume on, worse than the pain she felt when she dreamed of Frederick, worse than anything.

But when she blinked, her vision cleared and she realized that people were talking and laughing about other things, not about her, and the only person whose eyes were on her were the concerned ones of Austen, her would-be waiter.

"Miss Elliot? Are you all right?" he asked. "Do you need to sit for a moment? I could inform your party that you're here and..."

"No," she said quickly, almost too loudly. A couple of heads turned her way, and blushing, Anne repeated, "No, thank you. I...I just need a minute to compose myself, that's all. Please, don't let them know I'm here. This was supposed to be a surprise and I don't want to ruin it." Nice recovery.

"Of course, if that's what you'd like," Austen said.

"Yes, that's what I would very much like. Could you tell me where the restroom is?"

Austen pointed her in the right direction and then disappeared. Anne darted as fast as she dared into the bathroom, wishing she could lock the door behind her and be alone with her thoughts. She did the next best thing by ducking into a stall and shutting the door. Once she had something close to privacy, she tried to compose herself.

Why? Why are they here? Why did Bill do this to me? What's the point? Anne's eyes prickled with tears which she tried to hold back. Of all the things she had thought would be her surprise, the ugliness of bringing her family to see her would've been so far down on the list that she wouldn't have seen it. She hadn't seen it coming, had she? Of course not. She was fairly certain that at some point, she'd explained her problems with her family, or maybe they'd always been understood.

Yes, now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure he'd said he knew that she was estranged from her father and older sister. And she'd mentioned that she and Susan had had a falling out, although she hadn't gone into detail about it. So really, the only person in the group waiting for her that she wanted to see was Maralys. That brought her to her next question----what was Maralys doing with them? Maralys' dislike of their father and older sister ran almost as deep as Anne's did, although Anne remembered Susan saying that she was helping Maralys out with her skating. But still, why was Maralys here?

Anne heard the scrape of the bathroom door being opened and almost wept. She really needed to be alone right now. Worse still, there were two sets of shoes walking into the room, a pair of sharp heels and sensible flats.

"I can't believe I let Susan talk me into this crap," she heard the first woman say.

"I can't believe Daddy let Susan talk him into this crap," the second woman said.

Anne's eyes slammed shut, because of course the two women walking into the bathroom would be her sisters. It was just her kind of luck these days. But perhaps this was good luck. After all, no one knew she was here. Maybe her sisters would gab just enough for her to figure out what was going on.

"I mean, Daddy washed his hands of Anne a long time ago. Why should he care that she's on the verge of a nervous breakdown? She never should've gotten into this sport if she couldn't handle it," Alyssa said.

Anne was grateful for the barrier between herself and her sister, but it was taking all of her willpower to stay where she was instead of coming out and strangling Alyssa. Of course, if she strangled her, she wouldn't find out what this garbage about her having a nervous breakdown was all about.

"Handle it?" Maralys laughed. "I think winning a gold medal is a pretty good way of indicating that she handled this sport just fine."

"Please. It was a fluke. She won that gold medal because there wasn't a better Russian. Daddy says it broke down along the old East-West lines, and..."

"I should've known you were spouting something Daddy said and nothing you actually thought up yourself. Anne won because she was good, damn good, and that kills you, doesn't it? You want Susan's story about Anne's breakdown to be true because you hate the fact that she's got what you always wanted. It never occurred to you that Anne won because she actually did something about her dream. She didn't sit around the way you did..."

"Sit around? Which one of us looks more like we do nothing but sit around? I'm not the one who needs to lose a few pounds, Mary dear."

In her stall, Anne was seething. It was just like Alyssa to twist that knife, to make Maralys feel like a frump, just as she always had. And calling her Mary, just like their father, who never called his youngest daughter by the nickname her mother had given her as a baby.

"Those tricks don't work on me anymore, Alyssa. I'm past them. It took me five years and thousands of dollars, but I'm happy with the way I look. I'm happy with my life."

"Are you? You insinuate that I'm jealous of poor little Annie's success, but what about you? Don't you just want to tear her hair out by the roots when you see her skating on TV? Don't you think that it should've been you and not her? You were much better than she was, you know. More talented, more athletic..."

"Maybe so," Maralys said softly. "But I cracked, and she didn't. She wanted it more than me. How can I resent that? You know what? I don't resent it. I'm proud of her, because she won. She's my sister, and if I couldn't be there skating for the gold, at least she was. Whether she won because of an East-West bias, or because there was no Russian to wow the judges, or whatever, the fact remains that she won. You can't take that away from her. You can't belittle it. She's going to be in the record books, and you're not."

"Well, she may be in the record books, but if she's not careful, from what Susan says, she's going to end up in the loony bin." Anne heard the sound of a perfume bottle being spritzed, and soon the nauseating smell of Poison, Alyssa's favorite perfume, filled the air.

"What is Susan saying? All she would tell me is that Anne was no longer speaking to her and had started acting funny."

"Apparently, Anne called Susan and started raving like a lunatic about that guy she was seeing while she was in England. What's his name, Freddie? He was a jerk. He came on to me when I visited her, you know. Totally into me, and if Anne hadn't been my sister, I would've thought about it. But she was, and he was dating her, and that made him off limits to me."

Anne's fingernails were biting so hard into the flesh of her palms that she was drawing blood. She didn't feel the pain or notice what she was doing, she was so furious.

"I guess Anne blames Susan for their break-up, or something like that. And after that, she refused to take any calls or return any messages. Then Daddy told me that a couple of weeks ago, he got this ridiculous phone call at two-thirty in the morning from her, where she was ranting about he'd ruined her life. Now, if that isn't crazy, what is?"

Maralys fell silent, and Anne held her breath. If she hadn't known the truth, and had been listening to Alyssa's version of the story, she might believe it herself. Obviously, however, Susan hadn't mentioned that she had admitted her culpability in the Frederick situation. But again, Anne was left to wonder why this was happening. Why was Susan saying she was crazy? What was she trying to accomplish? And why was Bill going along with it?

This is getting ridiculous. It's like the plot of one of those awful Catherine Coulter novels you used to read. If you want to know why Susan's making you out to be crazy, just ask her.

But Anne remained in the bathroom stall and continued to listen to her sisters' conversation.

"It's not like Anne to rant about anything," Maralys said slowly. "Not without provocation, that is. And most of the time, not even with it. I'm surprised Daddy believed her."

"He probably wouldn't have, if Anne hadn't called him herself. He told me that she's become obsessed that he and Susan ruined her future with Frederick Wentworth, and thinks the best thing for her would be a stay in a nut house until she's back to her senses."

"Would you please not call it that? There's nothing wrong with needing a little psychological counseling. If that's what Anne needs, then that's what she'll get. I don't think we're going to accomplish anything by confronting her like this, though."

"Well, I think Susan agrees with you, but I don't know. You know Susan. She thinks Anne's having problems, but she thinks all she needs is a few weeks at home to rest and relax. She wants her to quit this tour, take a sabbatical, and come back for the fall season rested and ready to go, with this whole bad experience behind her."

"Maybe the tour wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it's the cause of all Anne's problems. You know how bad she is about crowds, and having to perform night after night must be driving her to...well, if she is losing it. Plus, she's working with Frederick Wentworth. That has to be difficult."

"Hmm...I wouldn't mind a crack at him. He was gorgeous."

"I thought you had a rule about not dating your sister's boyfriends."

"He's not her boyfriend anymore, is he?"

With a snort of disgust, Maralys said, "I don't know why I ever believe a word you say. You just got done saying that Frederick made a move on you and that you, with outraged virtue, resisted him. Now you're saying you wouldn't mind going out with him."

"I wasn't talking about going out, honey. You need to get with the new millennium."

"I'll stick with my life the way it is, thank you. I prefer it." Maralys sighed. "Who is this jerk, Bill, anyway? I never quite got what he was doing here."

"He's the one Susan hired to keep tabs on Anne. She told him that if he did this little favor for her, she'd make sure Anne signed on as a client when she got back into skating. Nice little deal, huh? Bill told Susan that Anne's been obsessing about Susan and Daddy."

"What if Anne doesn't want to leave the tour? What if she thinks she's fine? What are they going to do about it? They can't make her leave, you know. She's an adult."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure there are ways around that." There was a brief pause. "Hmm...she should be here soon."

"Is it almost time? Because I don't intend to miss a thing. I have a feeling Anne's going to need someone on her side or else she's gonna get railroaded into something disastrous."

"That's nice, Maralys. Always look on the bright side of things."

"You're the one wanting to have her committed and I'm being negative?" The door opened. "I don't know how that mind of yours works, Alyssa, and I'm not sure I want to know."

The sound of fading footsteps disappeared when the door shut. When Anne was absolutely certain she was alone again, she opened the door and stepped out of the stall. Facing the mirror, she thought about what she'd just heard.

Unlike Maralys, Anne had a pretty good idea of what this was all about. This was about Susan getting control over her again. To Susan's mind, if Anne was wanting to sever ties with her over Frederick, something had to be wrong with her. Joining forces with her sworn enemy----in this case, Anne's father----was a last-resort tactic designed to strong-arm her into going back to Susan's coaching, Susan's manipulation of her life, Susan's...

Susan's the one who needs to go to counseling, not me!

If this weren't happening to her, Anne might've laughed. She wasn't far off when she'd felt this was taking a melodramatic turn, because outside of books, this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. And it certainly wasn't supposed to happen to her, the level-headed member of the Elliot family.

Anne took a deep breath and asked herself the inevitable question. Did she really want to go out there and meet them? Did she want to face them, have them accuse her of being insane and needing a rest? And what did Alyssa mean when she said that there were ways to get around her objections to leaving the tour? They couldn't very well have her committed without her permission, could they?

Anne was fairly certain they couldn't, but she wasn't sure she wanted to take the chance. While the only sympathetic person in that room might be Maralys, she wasn't going to take her chances on relying on her younger sister for support if they tried to declare her insane.

Two hysterical phone calls, and I'm insane? she thought bitterly. If that's all it took, the whole world would be mad. Maybe it is, and I just never realized it.

Anne knew she couldn't face them. If she did, she would just start...well, ranting, to use Alyssa's phrase. She would prove to all of them that she was crazy, in their eyes, because she wasn't doing what they wanted her to do. Or at least, she wasn't doing what Susan wanted her to do. Like Alyssa had said, her father could care less.

Anne poked her head out of the bathroom, looking for that waiter. When she didn't see his distinctive red hair, she made her way along the edge of the room, making sure to hide behind as many potted plants and shady areas as she could. The moment she saw the snooty maitre d' at the front door, though, she knew she was in for trouble. She couldn't sneak past him, or he'd say something.

He'll probably say something when they ask if I've arrived, she thought with a sigh. But still, she'd rather not raise a stir. She waited until a large group trekked into the restaurant, causing him to frown viciously and demand to know who they were, before she got her chance. She skirted around the group and out the door before the group had been herded to wherever they were going. Once outside, she walked as fast as she could in her shoes, managing to get several blocks before trying to hail a cab. It took her several tries before one came to a stop, but once she had one, it didn't take long for her to be back at the hotel.

The doorman was quick to open the door for her, but before she could enter the building, someone nearly barreled into her.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured at the same time he did. At the sound of a familiar voice, she looked up. "Frederick?"

"This was my fault," he told her. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Neither was I." Anne sniffled. She noticed that he had a duffel bag in his hands. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Uh...yeah. I'm going...I'm going to be gone a couple of days. But then I'll be back...Annie, is something wrong?"

"No, of course not," she said quickly. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Because you look like your whole world's fallen apart. I've seen you look like that before, and...and I can delay my flight if you want to talk about it."

Anne shook her head. "I just need to get a good night's sleep, that's all. You're..." Anne stopped speaking as she realized where Frederick had to be going. He was going to Boston to see Hannah, which meant she'd finally broken her wall of silence and spoken to him. So Frederick was going to make up with her.

Anne was surprised at how much that wounded her.

"You're going to miss your flight," she finished. "So go."

Frederick looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he nodded and stepped to the curb to hail a cab. Anne, dejected, entered the building and thus missed him pulling out his cell phone and placing a phone call to a hotel room upstairs.

After making sure that someone would be waiting for Anne when she got to her room, Frederick caught a cab and then his flight. Although the look on Anne's face continued to bother him for a good long while, other concerns soon occupied his time. He had to figure out what to say when he finally faced Hannah to tell her it was over.

Frederick spent his flight scribbling fiercely on a blank notepad he'd stolen from his hotel room. Unsure of what he wanted to say to Hannah, but wanting to have something prepared so he wouldn't sound like a total ass, Frederick racked his brain trying to think of the right words.

He eventually came to the conclusion that there were no right words in this situation, and that by trying to write something down to practice saying, he was going about it the wrong way. Worse yet, he might come across as sounding rehearsed, and then that would make Hannah hate him. Frederick didn't want Hannah to hate him.

You just want everything, don't you? You want Anne to still love you, you want to be able to break things off with Hannah in an easy fashion in order to get Anne, you want Hannah to still be your friend...

Frederick looked down at some of the nonsense he'd written.

Hannah, the three years we spent together meant the world to me...

I do care about you, very much, but I'm not in love with you anymore...

I wouldn't have gotten where I am today without you...

You deserve so much better than me. I've never been good for any woman but one...

You deserve so much better than me. You deserve a man who will devote much of his time to your happiness. There is a man out there who is going to make you feel like you're the most important person in the world. I wish that could have been me...

Hannah. There's no easy way to say this, but we both know that this relationship is over. I don't love you and I don't think you love me...

Frederick grimaced and put the notepad away. Maybe it was just as well that he had nothing to say. He almost always botched things when he talked. He hadn't always been like this. In fact, one of the first things Hannah had said attracted her to him was his way with words. It was only lately that words had come to fail him, that everything had come out wrong.

He couldn't lay the blame for that at Anne's feet, either, because he'd had no troubles when they'd been together, either. He wasn't sure what was causing his problems these days. Was he getting arrogant? Complacent? Stupid?

Stupid. That's a good one, Sherlock.

Frederick told himself to stop thinking so negatively as the plane started to make its' descent. His time was getting short, and he still wanted to think of the right thing to say, even though he knew there was no chance he'd find it. He glanced at his watch---nearly midnight. It would be too late to do anything tonight, anyway. Maybe by the morning, he'd know what to say.

When the elevator stopped on her floor, Anne was not expecting to see Charlotte Denny and Elizabeth Darcy waiting by her door. Anne summoned a smile, not realizing how much more miserable it made her look, as she approached them.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi," Lizzy responded, exchanging a glance with Charlotte.

"Is there something you guys need me for? Because if not, I'm really in need of a good long bath and some rest." Anne sighed. "I hate to be rude, but this hasn't been a good night for me and I really just need to be alone."

"Yeah, that's what Frederick said," Charlotte told.

Anne's eyes widened. When had Frederick had time to talk to Charlotte? And just what had he told her, anyway? She hadn't told him anything when he'd talked to her a couple of minutes ago. Well, maybe she'd said she needed a good night's sleep or something.

"He called me from the street," Charlotte added. "He said it didn't look like you needed to be alone, and it looks like he was right."

"Look, it's sweet of you guys to..."

"Think nothing of it," Lizzy said. "We're glad to be of assistance. Now, are we going to talk about this in your room or out here where the world can listen in?"

Anne knew there would be no getting rid of them, so she invited them inside. She figured she might as well talk to someone or she would go crazy. Lizzy ordered dinner for three to be delivered as Anne began her story. Anne wasn't a great talker and left out a number of details, which required the patience of a saint for Charlotte and Lizzy to drag out of her. By the time Anne had finally gone through the grilling, dinner had arrived and was quickly growing cold.

"Wow," Lizzy said. "I knew you had it rough---I'd been through something like it myself, you know---but I never guessed how rough. What is up with this Susan woman, anyway? She goes out of her way to end your relationship and then doesn't quite understand why you wouldn't want to see her again when you find out about it? At least my mother and I know why we don't speak anymore."

"I'm surprised they haven't called or come by," Anne said.

"I can answer the first part of that for you. I took your phone off the hook." When Anne gave her a startled glance, Charlotte smiled sheepishly. "I hope you weren't expecting an important phone call from someone."

Anne shook her head. "They'd be the only ones who would call, and I don't want to talk to them. Could they force me into some sort of mental institution, do you think?"

"I seriously doubt it," Lizzy said firmly. "If they were to try it, they'd have every single skater on this tour vouching for your sanity. Hell, you survived being stuck in an elevator with Hannah Musgrove without going crazy and killing her. If that didn't do it, nothing would. I don't even understand why they're doing this."

"I can," Anne murmured. "Susan wants our relationship to be the way it's been since my mother died. She wants me to be the meek, mild little Anne who thought of nothing but skating. She wants to forget that Frederick Wentworth ever existed. My father..." Anne's eyes filled with tears. "My father never loved me. I don't know why, but he's never loved me. He resents the fact that I became successful in spite of him. I think he would go along with this just so people's first thoughts about me wouldn't be about my gold medal, but rather my mental state."

"That's sick," Charlotte snapped, thinking of her loving family in Seattle. Sure, she disagreed with them a lot and they drove her nuts, but it was nothing on the level of this.

"But unfortunately, it's not unheard of," Lizzy commented. "In all likelihood, he never thought Anne would be a credit to his name. When he rejected her eight years ago, it was like he was putting the stamp of failure on her forehead. How embarrassing do you think it must be for him now to look at her and realize that she's the success instead of his prodigal daughter?"

"That's no excuse. She's his child, for God's sake. He should love her for who she is, not what she can do to make him look good." Charlotte shook her head in disgust. "I swear to God, my kid's not getting into this sport. Are you considering letting your child do this, Lizzy?"

Lizzy shrugged. "I'm not pushing my baby one way or the other. If he or she chooses to skate, Fitz and I have agreed that we'll do everything we can to help out without being invasive. If our child chooses not to skate, we'll be supportive of that decision, too. We're scared that we might push too far in favor of skating, but hopefully we've learned from the examples we've had and will do better. That's all anyone can hope for."

A knock at the door startled them out of their conversation. Charlotte and Lizzy stared at Anne as all three of them wondered what to do. The knocking became a steady hammering, and finally, an unfamiliar voice called, "Ms. Elliot? Are you in there?"

"Who is that?" Charlotte whispered, only to have the other two shrug.

"I suppose I should get it," Anne said, walking over to the door and opening it. A security guard stood there. Directly behind him, worry written all over his face, was Bill.

"Anne, darling! Thank heavens you're all right. Thank you, that'll be all." Bill stormed past the security guard, who nodded his head before leaving, and pulled Anne into a crushing embrace. "I was terrified that something had happened to you! I thought maybe you had been in an accident or something. Why didn't you call? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," Anne said woodenly.

"Then why didn't you come to the restaurant? We...I mean, I was waiting for you." For the first time, Bill noticed Charlotte and Lizzy sitting in Anne's room, both of them glaring at him. "Oh, I didn't realize you had company. Why didn't you say so? And why did you take your phone off the hook? I could've called to remind you if you'd not done that."

"Because I...I..."

"She's got nothing to say to you," Lizzy said coldly, standing up and placing herself between Bill and Anne. "Anne's got absolutely nothing to say to a lying, two-faced jerk like you."

Bill frowned. "I don't know why you're insulting me, but I'd appreciate it if you'd let me talk to Anne in private."

"She's right," Anne said, finding her voice at last. "I don't want to talk to you. Not after what you did."

"What I did? Anne, what did I do? I don't quite understand."

Lizzy decided to step aside and let Anne handle it from there. She went back into the room and sat on the bed next to Charlotte.

Anne glanced back at her friends, who both nodded, then turned back to face Bill. "I know that you were planning to ambush me tonight. I know that you had my father, sisters, and former coach waiting in that party room. I know that you intended to force me to leave the tour by claiming I was crazy. I know...that Susan hired you to spy on me."

Bill didn't answer for a minute. "None of that is true, Anne. I care about you, and I'm concerned about you, and yes, I did talk to your father and to Susan Russell. I was worried enough to ask them to come tonight because I felt you needed to be with them. You've become so obsessed with..."

"Enough," Anne said in a strong but calm voice. "I'm not obsessed with anything. I'm a normal, rational human being who has been through a great deal in the past few months. Just because I think my father managed to mess my life up doesn't mean I'm crazy. In fact, it makes me just like a lot of people in this world. And just because I don't want to speak to Susan doesn't mean I'm despondent and suicidal. It just means that I'm wanting to go in a new direction with my life and with my skating."

Bill opened his mouth to speak but Anne held up a hand to stop him. "My entire life, I've let people tell me what to do and how to do it. I've gone along with a lot of things that I didn't want to do, and because of that, I'm where I am today. For that, I'm thankful, but that's as far as it goes. I don't want Susan to be my coach anymore, I don't want anything to do with my father or Alyssa, and furthermore, I wouldn't allow you to be my agent if you were the only one who came calling."

"But Anne, don't you see..."

"If you, or Susan, or my father, calls me or attempts to see me in any way, I'm going to get a restraining order. And I have witnesses to back up my claims of harassment."

"Definitely," Charlotte called. "We'll testify in a heartbeat."

"So you might as well tell everyone back at the restaurant to cut their losses and crawl back under the rocks they were hiding in, because I'd just as soon never see any of them again." With that, Anne shut the door in Bill's face, cutting off any further argument he might've made.

She smiled as Charlotte and Lizzy applauded her.

Frederick was surprised when Hannah wasn't to be found in her hotel room. He asked the man at the front desk if Jamie was in and was more surprised to find that he wasn't there, either. It was after midnight---where could they be? Frederick told the man who he was and asked if it would be all right for him to leave a message for one of them to meet him in the bar. Although the man looked like he had his doubts, he agreed that it would be all right and so Frederick, still with bag in hand, walked into the bar and took a seat. He was immediately served and a drink was placed before him. In deference to the absent Anne, he ordered a Dr. Pepper without thinking twice.

He took a drink out of the glass and glanced around the room. To his surprise, it was half-full of people, some talking, some laughing, and at one table, a woman crying as a man with cold eyes stared at her. Frederick couldn't keep his eyes off that scene for a moment or two, wondering if this was what would happen between Hannah and himself when the time came. The thought disturbed him, so he forced himself to look away and found himself casually glancing at a table in the corner, half-hidden by a plant.

From what little Frederick could see, he noticed that the couple occupying the table was holding hands. He couldn't see their faces---the man had his back turned to him and the woman's face was obscured by the plant. Although they weren't playing footsie under the table, their feet were coming close to touching.

Frederick grinned as he remembered one night, at a secluded restaurant with Anne, doing much the same thing. It was obvious to him that they were lovers, or they very soon would be. People who had been together for a long time didn't usually act that way. Frederick raised his glass in a small toast to them before bringing it to his lips.

He nearly spit his drink out when he noticed the ID bracelet the man wore on his left wrist, which became visible when the man let go of the woman's hand and gestured with his arms. Although Frederick was sure that gold ID bracelets abounded in the world, he doubted that very many of them had the distinctive black onyx stones at either end like the one owned by Jamie Benwick.

Frederick set his drink on the bar and went to see if it was indeed Jamie sitting at that table. He had walked about five steps before the woman's face was revealed, and he froze, because it was Hannah.

Hannah spotted him at the same time she came into his view, and her face lost all color, immediately drawing Jamie's notice.

"Hannah? Is something wrong?" Jamie asked her softly. "Are you feeling tired? Should I take you back to your room? I knew taking you out for the whole day was a mistake..."

"It's Frederick," she said.

"What about..." When Hannah pointed behind him, Jamie knew. He slowly turned to stare at Frederick, who was still looking stunned at the discovery of his coach and his girlfriend sitting at a secluded table holding hands and playing footsie. Jamie stood up and put his hands in front of him as if to ward off a blow. "Frederick, I know how this is going to appear."

Frederick took three more steps toward them. He looked from Jamie to Hannah and back again before bursting into laughter.

"I think he's lost it," Hannah said as Frederick couldn't stop laughing. She stood up slowly. "Freddie...nothing's happened between Jamie and me, I swear it."

"It's okay," Frederick said between fits of laughter. "I...I always thought...that if you two ever...stopped fighting, you'd fall in love with each other!"

Continued In Next Section