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I promise. Well now, let me wish you a Happy New Year. I know this past year has not been a happy one,

but hopefully, the next one will."

"Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you." "And I love you, Princess. Good night." "Good night, Daddy."

I pressed the receiver against my chest after he

had hung up, pressed it so hard it hurt. I didn't cradle

it until I heard the television announcer begin to count

down: "Ten, nine, eight . . ." Troy moaned in his sleep

and then turned over on his side. "Seven, six, five . ." I saw that it had begun to snow again. The

snowflakes were large and pretty. They fell so softly,

some clinging to the window for a moment before

turning into tears and streaming down the pane. "Four, three, two . ."

I held my new locket up against my lips and

kissed it, telling myself I was kissing Daddy. One . .

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!"

The camera caught so many different faces--

people cheering, people laughing, people screaming,

people crying. I wished I were there with them, lost in

a crowd of strangers.

Nearly half of the pages of my diary are written

upon now. It's a good place to wish myself a "Happy

New Year." Of course, for me it's more than a new

year; it's a new life.

Happy New Year, Leigh VanVoreen.

ten THE HONEYMOON'S OVER

. Troy awoke with a bad cold on New Year's Day, the day Momma and Tony were returning from their honeymoon. By eight o'clock in the morning, he was running a high fever and Mrs. Hastings had to send for the doctor. I knew he was very sick because he made no effort to get out of his bed to play. While the doctor examined him, I waited outside in the hallway. Afterward, I heard Mrs. Hastings and the doctor conferring in the outer chamber of Troy's suite. The doctor emerged from Troy's suite first, his eyes dark and the lines of his face cut deeply with worry and concern. Mrs. Hastings followed, her eyes wet with tears. She held her handkerchief against her mouth and shook her head at me.

"What is it? What's wrong with him?" I asked frantically.

"The doctor thinks he's developing pneumonia. Oh dear me, dear me. He's going to call for an ambulance. He wants him in the hospital for X rays and treatment right away. Mr. Tatterton warned me that Troy has so little resistance to germs, but he was doing so well and he was so happy and energetic, I didn't think I let him overdo it," she cried.

"Now Mrs. Hastings, this is not your fault. Whenever he showed the slightest signs of getting cold outside, we always brought him in, and except for last night, which is the most special night of the year, he alway

s went to sleep early. And he's been eating well, too," I added. "He didn't get sick after he and I were lost in the maze. You did wonders to prevent that from happening then, remember?"

"Yes, yes. Still, I feel so bad. I'll be right back. I have to see to some of the arrangements. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton won't be home until the middle of the afternoon, but the doctor says we can't wait for them." She shook her head with worry.