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"Last week," I said.

She looked out at the sea so quickly it was as if she expected something out there to confirm my words. "How?"

"An unexpected heart attack." I said, my throat closing, my words cracking.

She lowered her head, turned, and continued to walk. I followed alongside her. Neither of us spoke for a while.

"Once, a long time ago, we played a game of fantasy." she said. " 'One day.' he told me. 'I will no longer be able to control myself. I will no longer care about the consequences. and I will come to you.' I knew he was wishing more than promising. but I joined him.

" 'And I'll be waiting for you,' I said 'I'll never stop waiting for you. I'll expect you to come at night.'

" 'I'll come by boat. You'll see the light of it in the darkness growing brighter, larger, as I draw closer.'

" 'And I'll be on the dock, waving a lantern to guide you.' I told him.

"Silly. I suppose, especially for us, especially for people who knew how dangerous fantasy could become, but it was our little extravagance, our flirtation with the forbidden, forbidden happiness."

She paused and turned to me with a hard, serious look on her face. "You must never think badly of him for what happened between us at the clinic. For us, it was no longer a clinic. I was no longer a patient, and he was no longer a doctor."

"I know," I said. 1 read his diary."

"His diary?" She smiled. "Your father kept a diary?"

"Yes. It was almost a bigger surprise than what was in it," I said.

"Someday, maybe, you will give it to me to read."

I didn't say yes. I wasn't sure what to do. Was it something my father had wanted her to read? Did he know for certain that I would seek her out? She seemed to understand my indecisiveness and kept walking, silent, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. I looked back at the beach house.

"Did you say anything to Linden today? After we returned from the sailing?" I asked.

She shook her head, stopped, and tried to swallow down her grief. "I must tell him. I know," she said. "He will not understand. He has suffered so much because of me already. I hate to add another lump of pain to the burden he carries." She sighed deeply, so deeply I thought her heart had cracked. "But I know I must. I know." she said. Then she turned to me and smiled. "You are as beautiful as he described. He did a wonderful job with you, he and that nanny of yours. I know how unpleasant your adoptive mother was. I know that from between the lines of what he wrote.

"He didn't want me to feel any guilt, and so he made it sound much better than it was for you. I'm sure."

"She was truly more of a mother to me. my Amou"

"I'm glad of that." She paused and shook her head. It was painful for him, watching you grow up."

"Why?"

"He wrote how much you reminded him of me and how he felt he had to keep his deep love for you in control so your adoptive mother would never suspect you were really his daughter. He hated being so formal with you at times."

"And I hated it, too, but recently we grew closer to each other." "I am glad of that."

"I'd like to spend more time with you, too, get to know you and let you get to know me," I said. "the way a mother and a daughter should know each other.'

"Yes. I'd like that. You're not in college?"

"I took a leave of absence after I was given Daddy's diary and learned about you."

"What do these people, the Eatons, think? Have you told them the truth about why you are here?"

"Oh, no. never. They think I'm on some sort of study project, as you were first told. No one but me and Dr. Price knows the truth about us."

"Yes, and someone else," she said. "Nadine Gordon?"

"Yes," she said with surprise. "Who told you about her? Was she in your father's diary. too?"