16: The Gift

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U><B>4:  Speakeasy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Angelique"><U><B>10:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Nora"><U><B>13:  Nora</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>16:  The Gift</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: Petofi Strikes"><U><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>16:  The Gift</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <I>Mister rich man, rich man, open up your heart and mind,</I></div> <div> <I>Mister rich man, rich man, open up your heart and mind,</I></div> <div> <I>Give the poor man a chance, help stop these hard, hard times,</I></div> <div> <I>When you're living in your mansion, you don't know what hard times mean,</I></div> <div> <I>When you're living in your mansion, you don't know what hard times mean.</I></div> <div> <I>Poor workin man's wife is starving your wife is living like a queen...</I></div> <div> <I>If it wasn't for the poor man, mister rich man, what would you do?</I></div> <bR> <div>      As he listened to the honeyed, sultry voice, Quentin felt goosebumps rise on his arms.  He'd never heard a voice like CaraLinda's--unless it was that of Bessie Smith, who'd originally sung this song.  He wasn't sure where Dave had gotten to; he badly needed to talk to them about what they were going to do about the Chicago-New York mess.  It was worse than he had anticipated; he wondered what would happen if Bartelli found out the truth before the gypsies could squirrel him away.  He also was worried about what would happen if Bartelli disappeared before the conflict was straightened out. But...since Dave wasn't there, he decided to meet her and try to get into her room alone after she finished for the evening.  After her set and the applause died down, she turned and walked off stage.  From the back of the room, Quentin got up and went down the hall after hall.  He caught up with her before she got into her dressing room.</div> <div>      "Ah, hello, pretty one," she said, looking him up and down.  She gave him a lightly seductive smile.  "You come back, eh?"</div> <div>      "Yes, today.  I missed you, CaraLinda," Quentin said huskily.  He leaned against the wall, one arm on either side of her.  "Your voice is so beautiful.  It makes me feel warm.  What else can you do for me?"</div> <div>      "Ah, you'd like to find out?"  CaraLinda asked innocently, batting her eyelashes at him.  He leaned down to kiss her.  He thought she would let him this time.</div> <div>      "Quentin!"  His name was hissed into his ear.  He felt someone give a sharp, hard tug.</div> <div>      "Hey!" He protested, half turning.  He was dismayed to see Angelique, glaring thunderously at him.  She still had a firm hold of his ear lobe.</div> <div>      "I want to talk to you," She said between her teeth, tugging again.</div> <div>      CaraLinda was laughing.  "Perhaps I see you when you're not so busy, eh, pretty one?"  She ducked into her dressing room.</div> <div>      "Angelique--"  Quentin protested.  His ear was beginning to hurt.</div> <div>      "Come with me--now."</div> <div>      "All right, but you're not Judith, so you let go of me!"</div> <div>      She did, glaring at him.  Then she beckoned to him, and they went down the hall and around the corner.  Angelique turned and faced him.  "Well, I see you are managing to keep yourself busy," she said, sounding cranky.</div> <div>      "You went to New York.  I only just got back myself," Quentin answered defensively.  "Besides, you said--"</div> <div>      "I KNOW what I said," Angelique interrupted irritably.  "I still meant what I said.  However, you have to stop thinking that every woman who comes along belongs to you!"</div> <div>      "But--"</div> <div>      "Be quiet!  I want you to see something!"  Angelique put a hand on his arm.  Quentin shut his mouth, and the two of them looked around the corner.  Dave, all dressed up and hair slicked back, was standing in front of CaraLinda's door, a dozen roses in hand.  A dozen roses!  Must've cost him a lot, Quentin thought, and was glad Angelique had stopped him.  </div> <div>      "Oh," he said.  The door opened; he heard CaraLinda squeal in delight.  Dave was admitted to the room.</div> <div>      "After all, it would work out better for the two of them than the two of you, wouldn't it?"  Angelique commented.  It wasn't really a question.  "They are both the same."</div> <div>      Quentin understood what she meant--both were colored.  However, he also know a little more about gypsies than Angelique did and decided to feign ignorance.  "They're not the same at all.  Dave's a man and CaraLinda is a woman."  He was rewarded with a sharp pinch on his upper arm.  He was the one that was angry now.  "Angelique, you've got to stop hurting me!  Especially if there's no future for us anyway."</div> <div>      "We need to talk about what I found in New York," Angelique smiled, somehow managing to look both sexy and menacing at the same time.</div> <div>      "All right, I needed to talk to someone about what's going on in New York anyway.  It seems to be getting out of control."</div> <div>      "Good.  Then we are in agreement that we need to talk. After that, I'll show you again that a little pain can bring about an intensely pleasurable sexual experience, if you understand my meaning. You and I can have a future together for tonight, anyway.  And we will leave them to theirs."</div> <div>      </div> <div>      He was sure Angelique would be infuriated if he took her to the same dives he went to with whores from time to time, so they went to a nice, middle-class hotel on the first white block nearest the club.  He registered them as Mr. and Mrs. Scott.  The man behind the desk sneered at him and was unappreciative of the fact that they were there with good, cash money.  It was probably because they had no luggage.  He knew what they were there for.  Not everyone was stupid, Quentin thought and shrugged.  He didn't care.</div> <div>      As soon as they got into the room, he put his hands on Angelique's shoulders.  She was facing away from him, and he leaned down to nuzzle her neck.  She turned to face him and put her arms around his neck, tilting her face up to hiss him.  Without warning, she slapped him sharply, and he pulled back.  "Damn you, Angelique!" He swore furiously.  He had a feeling she was paying him back for his angry resistance to her on the beach.</div> <div>      As if to confirm what he believed, she snapped with angry eyes flashing, "Why is it this is always the first thing on your mind when you see a woman?  Do your brains travel to your cock just because it happens to be standing up?"</div> <div>      "You always gave me the impression it wasn't my brains you were interested in, anyway.  And you said--"</div> <div>      "I know what I said!"  Angelique snapped.  "I want to talk to you about New York first, though.  Or have you lost interest in that?"</div> <div>      "No, I haven't!  Fine!  Tell me!"</div> <div>      They were both glaring at each other.  Then Angelique gave him a teasing little smile.  "Let's sit down and talk.  Do you think this establishment would send us some champagne?  Would they have some, do you think?"</div> <div>      "All of Chicago is supplied by Al Capone," Quentin replied.</div> <div>      "Be a good boy, then, and order a bottle of champagne for us, then."</div> <div>      "Good boys don't drink champagne," he snapped, tight with irritation and frustration.</div> <div>      She looked at him seductively then and laughed appreciatively.  "No, you are no good boy.  Especially not in bed.  I still would like some champagne."</div> <div>      He picked up the phone to call room service.  After the bottle was delivered on ice, he poured them each a glass and then sat next to her on the bed.  He had calmed down considerably and was ready to listen.  "What did you find out?"</div> <div>      "There is a portrait.  I have seen it."</div> <div>      "Where?  How?"</div> <div>      "While Mr. Bartelli was occupied in negotiations here, I visited his suite.  I found Mr. Tate there.  He was--remarkably cooperative."  She gave Quentin a very amused look. "He was not at all the uncooperative, antisocial, self-centered prig you made him out to be."</div> <div>      "I shouldn't think so--not if he met you," Quentin responded.  He had to smile at the thought of Charles Delaware Tate trying to fend off Angelique.  She laughed, and he realized they were both thinking the same thing.  "So he's painted a picture of Petofi--or Bartelli, rather?  Did he show it to you?"</div> <div>      "Oh, indeed.  I have it."</div> <div>      "You do?"  Quentin was delighted.  This was even better than he expected.  "Where is it?"</div> <div>      "Under the circumstances, I think I will keep that information to myself.  You are still in danger here--especially now that Petofi realizes the portrait is gone.  He will seek you out.  It's far safer to leave the portrait in a place only I know about."</div> <div>      Quentin's expression changed.  He felt frightened and sick at the thought of Petofi finding him again.  He didn't believe for a minute Petofi would be kind enough to just kill him.  Angelique saw the change in his expression and told him softly, "I told you you would have to face him again.  I will protect you as best as I can, Quentin, but you must remember everything I told you in Cuddeback.  Do you remember?" </div> <div>      He nodded, swallowing hard.  "Angelique, Phillip tells me there's been a lot of killings here and in New York."  She gave him an exasperated 'what did you expect?' look, and he continued, "Phillip says Bartelli is suspicious and thinks it may be a set up." </div> <div>      Angelique didn't seem at all worried. "All right.  He will return to Chicago soon, if not to resume negotiations between those gangsters, then to search for the portrait and for you.  If he is suspicious, once he realizes the portrait is gone, it won't take him long to decide you must be involved somehow.  When he does return, we need to be ready to act.  Did you talk to CaraLinda at all, or did you just try to get her into bed?"</div> <div>      Stung, Quentin answered, "Of course I talked to her, and she's talked to her clan.  They have the scimitar.  They are all most eager to meet--Petofi."  He shuddered again, remembering again the last time he'd been with that monster.  The horror of that memory and the thought of seeing him again was terrifying him in spite of everything Angelique had told him.</div> <div>      "Good," Angelique whispered, satisfied.  "It won't be long now.  Possibly just a few weeks.  There is one more thing, Quentin.  I made another discovery that I told you about before.  You may consider it a gift."</div> <div>      "Oh?  A gift from you?  I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or frightened."  At the angry change in her expression, he added, "What is it?"  He hoped to deflect an angry response to his jibe.</div> <div>      "You'll see.  But you must not let it distract you too much from your purpose.  That would be dangerous."</div> <div>      Now he was intrigued.  "What is it?"</div> <div>      "Meet me at Lincoln Park tomorrow, somewhere near the bath house.  Let's say about eleven in the morning.  I'll show you then."  At his look of disappointment, she laughed and reassured him, "Don't worry.  It will be worth the wait."  Now she stood up and moved away a little, unbuttoning her blouse.  She moved very slowly and seductively while he watched her.  She let the blouse drop to the floor and then slowly unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.  Slowly her garments dropped one by one to the floor, while Quentin watched her appreciatively, his face flushing.  She stretched her arms out and then brought her hands to her breasts, cupping them.  "I especially feel like royalty tonight, Quentin.  Come and worship me."  He did.</div> <div> With the admonition from Angelique to meet him in the park, Quentin was a little dismayed when Nora announced she had to "fly out for an hour or so" and would he please keep an eye on Mary Jane.  He couldn't think of a good reason not to; actually, it would work because there was a play area at the park where he was to meet Angelique.  Mary Jane was thrilled to go; she loved going anywhere with Quentin.  He'd built as easy a rapport as he'd done with Elizabeth, and he genuinely liked her in spite of her excessive chattiness.  That was really the only thing he worried about--that Mary Jane would see him and Angelique together and might say something.</div> <div>      He pushed her on the swing for awhile.  She liked to go high, something Elizabeth had also enjoyed. "I can do it, Uncle Frank!" she cried.  "Watch me!"  He backed off to watch her from behind.  Her little legs pumped hard, and she began to fly higher and higher.  "Do you see me, Uncle Frank?"</div> <div>      "You're really flying now--just like a bird, Mary Jane!"  He felt a tap on his shoulder and started.</div> <div>      "Who is THAT?"  Angelique asked.</div> <div>      "Nora's youngest," Quentin replied.  "Sorry--it was last minute--"</div> <div>      Angelique was standing behind a tree.  Mary Jane wouldn't be able to see her.  "We have a lot of work to do, Quentin.  But because I have a certain feeling for you, there was something I wanted to show you.  The only thing is, I am afraid it will distract you and you might forget your purpose here."</div> <div>      "Nothing could do that," Quentin said firmly.  "What's this mysterious secret?"</div> <div>      Angelique gave him a little smirk.  Then she looked around the tree at Mary Jane.  One of the ropes snapped, and the little girl went sailing.  Quentin was horrified.  It was like the time Elizabeth fell from the tree.  He began running, but Mary Jane had already hit the ground by the time he got to her.  He picked her up and saw that she was already bleeding freely from her chin and mouth.  He saw Angelique's feet; she'd left the tree and joined them.  Looking up at her, he saw a strange expression on her face.</div> <div>      "Did you do this?" he demanded accusingly.</div> <div>      "For heaven's sakes, Quentin, the child is injured," Angelique replied coolly over Mary Jane's shrieks of pain and fright.  "I think you'd better take her to the doctor."  She nodded toward the other side of the street.  There were several small shops and buildings.  "Fortunately for you, there is a doctor's office there."</div> <div>      Quentin lifted Mary Jane in his arms.  He was furious.  "Why did you do this?"</div> <div>      "Just take her to the doctor," Angelique said evenly.  "I will see you again soon so that we can take care of our other business."</div> <div>      He turned his back on her and stalked off, trying to soothe the little girl.  "Listen, don't cry, we'll get you fixed up and then I'll get you a rootbeer float," he said.</div> <div>      "Is it bad?  Am I bleeding a lot?" Mary Jane sobbed.</div> <div>      "Well, a little.  I want to take you to the doctor's office so he can look and make sure you don't have such a deep cut."</div> <div>      "Will it hurt?" the little girl wailed.  Now she had something new to worry about.  Quentin found the stairway to the doctor's office; it was located over the drug store.  He carried Mary Jane up the stairs, wondering what had made Angelique do such a cruel thing.  He was sure she'd caused the little girl to fall.  If this were a delayed retaliation in response to him trying to make a move on CaraLinda, he'd never forgive her.  After all, she'd made it plain she didn't want a sustained relationship with him and didn't want him falling in love with her and complicating her life.</div> <div>      He fumbled with the doorknob, shifting Mary Jane around in his arms.  As if someone inside had realized he needed help, the door opened from the inside to admit him.  He stepped into the doctor's waiting room, vaguely aware that a tall, thin woman in a nurse's uniform had let him in.  He turned to thank her and froze.  It was Beth!</div> <div>      The nurse was looking back at him, with a puzzled, wondering expression on her face.  Oh, it was Beth all right--every beloved feature was the same: her height, her blonde hair and large blue eyes; the high cheekbones; the long neck; the delicate frame. The only difference was the length of her hair; it was short now, thick and fashionably wavy. It was impossible, and yet it was true.  He'd seen her accidentally stumble over Widow's Hill; he'd seen her ghost.  Yet he knew without a doubt that he was looking at a living and breathing Beth.  "What happened to your little girl?" she was asking.  Even her voice was the same.</div> <div>      "Beth," he said, barely audible. "When did you cut your hair?"</div> <div>      "Excuse me?" the nurse said, confused.  "Is that her name?"</div> <div>      It's your name, he wanted to say, but he knew she'd think he was a lunatic.  "Ah, no, her name is Mary Jane.  She's my niece, and she fell off the swing."</div> <div> "Bring her here," the nurse said efficiently, leading him to a room with an examining table on it.  "Dr. Sweeney is with someone right now, but he'll be free shortly.  Meanwhile, why don't we take a look?"  Quentin gently lowered Mary Jane onto the table; she clung to him in terror.</div> <div>      "No, no!  It's going to hurt!"  she cried out.</div> <div>      The nurse soothed her.  "Ssh, ssh, don't be afraid.  I just want to look.  I won't hurt you."  Mary Jane stopped writhing and lay still, still whimpering.  The nurse was wiping away the blood from the child's lip and chin.  "Well, you have had a pretty bad fall, haven't you?  I'll bet you were swinging pretty high."</div> <div>      Mary Jane almost smiled.  "REALLY high," she said, bragging a little bit. "But then the rope broke."</div> <div>      "And you're being so brave about all of this.  You know what?  Your lip doesn't look so bad.  It just has a lot of blood in it and that's why it's bleeding so much.  Under your chin, though, you have a very deep cut and you may need some help getting the cut to close up so it can get better."</div> <div>      "Stitches?"  Quentin asked, worried.  He had a feeling Nora was vain about her only daughter's looks.  Great.  Thanks a lot, Angelique, he thought.</div> <div>      "No!"  Mary Jane shouted.</div> <div>      At the same time, the nurse said reassuringly, "Just one or two here under the chin.  You'll never see a scar."</div> <div>      "NO!"  Mary Jane shouted even louder.</div> <div>      "Mmm, let me see again," the nurse said gently putting her hands on Mary Jane's face to soothe her.  The child quieted down again as the nurse lifted her head a little to look.  The door popped open, and presumably Dr. Sweeney, a balding man with a florid round face popped his head in.</div> <div>      "Is everything all right in here, Kristin?"</div> <div>      "Dr. Sweeney, I wonder if I might be able to use a butterfly on this little girl's chin?" the nurse asked.</div> <div>      The doctor came over and looked.  "Very good.  Less upsetting for the child.  Go ahead and do it."  He left without looking at or speaking to Quentin.</div> <div>      "Well, young lady, how would you like to have a butterfly on your chin?"  the nurse asked coaxingly.</div> <div>      "Oh, yes, please!"  Mary Jane was excited with the idea.</div> <div>      "What's that?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "It's just a little bandage that puts pressure on both sides of the cut and helps it to heal," the nurse explained.</div> <div>      "Your name is Kristin?"  Quentin asked as the nurse rummaged around in a drawer.  "I thought maybe it was Beth."</div> <div>      The nurse looked at him, startled.  "Why did you think that?"</div> <div>      "I know you," Quentin said softly.  "Do you remember me at all?"</div> <div>      "To be honest with you, I did think you looked familiar.  But I don't know where we might've met."</div> <div>      "Beth--"</div> <div>      "Now that is very odd.  My name is Kristin Ryan.  It's not Beth.  But my middle name is Elsbeth.  How did you know that?"  She was looking at him, with a confused and apprehensive expression on her face.  She'd retrieved the things she needed and turned to face him. Mary Jane had covered her chin with her hands, her eyes wide with fear.  "Let me take care of her first," Kristin said.  "Then we can talk."  She gave her attention to Mary Jane.  "This isn't going to hurt you, sweetie.  This is a butterfly bandage.  That's all it is.  No stitches.  Just a little bandaid.  But you have to hold still for me so that I can clean the cut out and then we'll put this on.  It won't hurt.  Can you be a big, brave girl?"</div> <div>      "No needles?  No sticks?"  Mary Jane asked doubtfully.</div> <div>      Kristin showed her everything she had in her hands.  "No needles, no threads.  See?"     So Mary Jane put her hands down and allowed Kristin to swab out the wound, although she did grimace and complain that it hurt.  "I'm sorry," Kristin apologized gently.  Quentin watched, impressed, as Kristin deftly applied the butterfly bandage.  At least he wouldn't have to explain sutures to Nora. "There, now you're all better," Kristin said, giving Mary Jane a comforting squeeze.</div> <div>      "It doesn't hurt anymore!"  Mary Jane was delighted.  "Uncle Frank, will you get me a root beer float now?"</div> <div>      "Yes, you were a very brave girl," Quentin replied, thinking that the drugstore was conveniently right downstairs and had a soda fountain.  Kristin was busily cleaning up.  Quentin cleared his throat.  "I was wondering, ah, would you like to join us?"  Kristin looked at him, with her eyes becoming enormous in a way Quentin remembered so well.  He knew she was undecided and apprehensive.  He knew and loved her so well, and he knew how to win her over.  After she'd died, he'd never forgiven himself for the way he'd treated her sometimes.  This was different, though, just a little manipulation.  He'd be so good to her after that…"I think Mary Jane would enjoy having you come along, considering she was so frightened and you took such good care of her."</div> <div>      Mary Jane just wanted that root beer float.  She really didn't care one way or the other, but Quentin also understood her very well, too.  "Oh, please come with us" the child said, grabbing Kristin's hand and giving her a pleading look.  She just wanted her float--now.</div> <div>      It worked.  Kristin hesitated just a moment and then said, "There's no one else waiting, so I think it would be all right for just a few minutes.  I'll ask Dr. Sweeney."  She left the room.</div> <div>      Quentin swung Mary Jane down to the floor, feeling jubilant.  "I'll make sure you get TWO scoops of ice cream!"  He promised.  Mary Jane clapped her hands.  They left the little room and found Kristin waiting for them just outside.</div> <div>      "It's all right," Kristin told them.  "I'll just take my lunch now."</div> <div>      Quentin waited until after Mary Jane's ice cream float came to talk to Kristin.  He wanted the little girl to be occupied with her dessert and not with them.  He'd also ordered hamburgers for himself and Kristin for lunch.  "Do you want me to tell you how I knew about your name?" he asked.  Kristin looked a little frightened, but then she nodded.  "It's because you look like a Beth."  She relaxed visibly and smiled.  "Do you know that you have a beautiful smile?"</div> <div>      "Flirt," she said.</div> <div>      "No, really.  You do.  And you were so gentle with Mary Jane.  Are you like that with everyone?"  He looked at her very intensely. A little color crept into her cheeks.  "Are you seeing anyone?"</div> <div>      "Why?  Do you always ask such personal questions so quickly?"</div> <div>      "Always--with people I'm interested in."</div> <div>      She looked away.  "I don't even know your name.  You're really being forward with someone you've only just met."</div> <div>      "I told you--I feel like we've known each other before.  You feel it too, don't you?"</div> <div>      She looked back at him and swallowed.  Her face became more flushed, leaving high red spots on her cheeks.  He wanted so badly to touch her but managed to restrain himself.  "Yes, I do.  But I don't know why.  What is your name?"</div> <div>      "It's Quentin Collins."</div> <div>      "Quentin," she said thoughtfully.  She repeated the name, thinking.  She looked very puzzled.  "And where are you from?"</div> <div>      "Collinsport, Maine."</div> <div>      "You are a long way from home, aren't you, Mr. Collins?"</div> <div>      "Quentin.  Please.  And I'm here visiting family."</div> <div>      She was still thinking.  "I don't see how we could've possibly met.  I've never been any further east than Chicago.  I don't recall seeing you around here before.  Have you ever been to Minnesota?"</div> <div>      "Never.  But, Beth, we DO know each other."</div> <div>      "You sound so sure of yourself. You sound as sure of that as you did about my name.  And I heard you ask about my hair.  How did you know I had it cut? How could you possibly know these things?"  She put her hamburger down, looking a little distressed.  "I really should get back now.  Thank you for lunch--Mr.--Quentin."</div> <div>      As she started to get up, he put his hand over hers.  "Please don't be afraid of me, Beth.  Would you come out with me tonight?  We could talk some more--"</div> <div>      "I don't know--I have responsibilities--"     He gave her his most intent look, willing her to agree to come out with him.  Then he changed to his "aw, please" look that Beth had never been able to resist.  "It would have to be after dinner," she said softly.  "Perhaps eight o'clock?"</div> <div>      "Where do you live?"</div> <div>      "No--I'll meet you here.  In front of the drug store," she answered firmly.  He decided not to argue with her.  After all, he did know where she worked and if she stood him up tonight, he'd be able to find her again.  After Beth walked off, Quentin felt Mary Jane tugging at his hand.  He looked down at her.</div> <div>      Her little freckled face was screwed up in a puzzled frown.  "Uncle Frank?  Why did you tell the lady a different name?"</div> <div>      Quentin knelt down beside her so that they were eye-to-eye.  "I know you're very good at secrets, Mary Jane.  Would you keep a secret with me, sweetheart?  And never, ever tell anyone else until I said it was okay?"  Mary Jane, pleased and flattered, nodded solemnly.  "I told that lady my real name.  Now, that's our secret, okay?"</div> <div>      "Cross my heart and hope to die," Mary Jane swore, crossing her heart and spitting into her palm.  She held it out to Quentin and he managed to shake it solemnly, without laughing.</div> <bR> <div>      Quentin endured Nora's lamentations over what happened to Mary Jane's chin without complaint.  The only thought he had was that she certainly resembled Judith a lot more than he--or possibly even she--could have possibly imagined.  While Ruth had brought much good and happiness to Jamison's life, Phillip had seemed to have the opposite effect on Nora, and it really was too bad. He still hoped to mend their relationship, but he was finding it almost impossible to get on the right side of her. He got dinner over with as quickly as possible and went out.  If nothing else, he could spend the rest of his free time waiting in the park for Beth.</div> <div>       He sat on a park bench facing the drug store across the street and waited.  Angelique sat down next to him.  "Well, now, aren't you going to thank me?" she asked.</div> <div>      He looked at her, a little apprehensively.  "You arranged this?  Why?  What are you going to do?"</div> <div>      She gave him an irritated look and then slapped him sharply.  His hand flew to his cheek.  "If I go to the trouble to do something on your behalf, then the least I would hope for is some appreciation and gratitude, not suspicious accusations!"</div> <div>      "I'm sorry," he said.  His cheek stung.  "But you have to admit, Angelique, that in the past you haven't done favors for anybody without expecting some payment in return.  Now, please don't hit me again, but it WAS you who caused the trouble between Beth and me before."</div> <div>      "Perhaps, but if it hadn't been me, it would've been that Amanda Harris.  What about her?"</div> <div>      "She's not here now.  But you are.  So I need to know--are you going to do anything?  Do you want something from me?"  He was rewarded with a twist of his ear.  He got up and backed away from her.  "Look, if you hurt me again, I swear I'll go back on my promise and hit you back!  Angelique, you really have to stop abusing me," he complained.</div> <div>      "I will, because I am just about finished with you.  And as for this, I was just trying to be kind to you."  She glared at him, considering, and then said, "I have never felt such pleasure as I did with you.  I don't think I will again, and I don't think you will, either.  But I don't want you, and so I thought to give you something you would want.  Just because.  But you are not to tell anyone, ever.  Do you hear me?" He signaled to her, zipping his lips shut. "Very well.  You have your precious Beth again.  Let me just warn you, Quentin.  You are still in danger and will be until we take care of Count Petofi. Don't do anything foolish now, will you?"</div> <div>      "I'll try not to," he said, "but you know me."</div> <div>      "Too well," she said.  "I will be nearby but I won't approach you again until it's time to make our move."  She stood up and turned to go.</div> <div>      "Angelique," he said softly.  She stopped and half-turned toward him.  "Thank you.  You don't know how much you've helped me just by--"</div> <div>      "Hush," she said abruptly.  She sounded angry and so he shut up.  He didn't want to be slapped, punched or pinched again.  Then he saw tears glistening on her face as she got up and walked away.  Bewildered, he watched her until she reached the corner and disappeared.  Pensively, he rubbed his cheek where she'd slapped him.  He wasn't sure he'd miss her or not.  Then he looked up and saw Beth approaching, and he knew he'd get over it quickly.  He stood up to greet her with a wide smile.</div> <div>      Beth smiled shyly back at him.</div> <div>      "I'm glad you came," he said.  "I was almost afraid you wouldn't."</div> <div>      "To be honest, I almost didn't.  I have been thinking since we talked this afternoon that you're right--you do seem very familiar to me.  Yet I don't know why.  I don't recall ever meeting you before."</div> <div>      "Maybe it'll come back to you soon," he answered a little evasively.  "Have you eaten?"</div> <div>      "Very lightly."</div> <div>      "Maybe we could get something to eat, and we could talk some more.  You like to dance still, Beth?"</div> <div>      She shook her head a little.  "How did you know that?  Yes, I like to dance.  That's why I almost didn't come here.  You seem to know so much about me.  I don't understand…"</div> <div>      He took her arm.  "We can talk about it a little over dinner, and then I'd like to take you dancing.  I have a friend who plays at one of the clubs here.  Do you like the bands here in Chicago?"</div> <div>      "Very much.  I've been to a club once or twice on the north side.  I really enjoy the music. Once I went to a club on the south side, and I heard a singer named CaraLinda Romano.  She's very good."</div> <div>      "By remarkable coincidence, Beth, that's the very club I was talking about."  She stopped.  "What's wrong?"</div> <div>      "Two things.  First--that club is owned by Mr. Capone, isn't it?"</div> <div>      "Yes, but he doesn't make himself obvious.  I don't know him well.  Would it bother you too much to go there?  We don't have to…."</div> <div>      After a slight hesitation, she answered, "No, I suppose it's all right."</div> <div>      "What else is wrong?"</div> <div>      "You keep calling me Beth."</div> <div>      "I'll stop if you want me to."</div> <div>      "It's just that no one else calls me Beth."  She looked at him a moment and then amended, "Well, no one but me, that is.  When I was a little girl, I always called myself Beth.  I don't know why I did that.  That's why it surprised me so when you called me by that name."</div> <div>      "Would it bother you if I did?  It's part of your middle name, isn't it?  It would be special, then.  Just between you and me."</div> <div>      Beth gave him a surprised look.  "I really don't know what to make of you.  We've only just met, and yet you behave as though we'd known each other a long time."</div> <div>      "I feel like we have.  Maybe you'll feel that way too.  Don't be scared of me, please, Beth.  Let's just go and enjoy ourselves.  We can talk about all this later, eh?"  As always, he could talk Beth into anything.  She gave a slight nod and allowed him to take her arm again.     </div> <div> As they ate dinner, he described Collinwood to her.  He talked a little bit about Edward, Judith, Jamison, and Nora.  It seemed to mean something to her because she looked vaguely disturbed, as if there was a hidden memory just waiting to be uncovered.  She told him a little about the small town in Minnesota she'd grown up in, and a little about her family, but she seemed to be more interested in letting him talk.</div> <div> "How is your niece?" she wanted to know.</div> <div> He found himself confiding things to her that surprised him.  It was just so easy to talk to her and tell her that he was worried about Mary Jane; that Nora was neglecting her.  He told her about how Laura, Nora's mother, had neglected her as a child, too, and that Nora felt unloved by everyone else.</div> <div> "How sad," Beth said sympathetically.  "If your cousin Nora never felt loved, it would be very hard for her to know how to love her child."  She touched his hand lightly, and he felt as if he'd been touched by a lightning rod.  "It's very kind of you to be so concerned about the little girl.  She'll remember your kindness."</div> <div> He found it hard to speak just then.  They looked at each other, and he saw her turning scarlet.  He put his other hand on hers.  "I hope you're right," he said.  While they waited for the check to come, Quentin tried humming "Shadows of the Night" softly.  He noticed her wide-eyed look.  "Do you know it?"</div> <div>      "I'm not sure," she said.  "The tune…the things you've told me…they seem to be things that are at the very back of my mind, but I can't quite remember. It really isn't possible we knew each other as children?"</div> <div>      "As children?  No, I'm afraid not. I grew up in Maine, and I've never been to Minnesota."  He looked at her, trying to will her to remember something.  "And you've never been east of Chicago, you say?"  Obviously troubled, she shook her head no. "By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what year were you born?"</div> <div>      She smiled, as if amused.  "November, 1897." He started a little bit, and she noticed.  "What's wrong?"</div> <div> "Oh, nothing," he lied.  Beth had fallen from Widow's Hill not long after his birthday.  That gave him the inspiration to try a little white lie to explain his reaction to her revelation.  "It's just that my birthday is in October.  Funny, us being born so close together."</div> <div> "What a coincidence!  And were you born in 1897, too?"  She asked, her expression brightening.  At that moment, the waiter appeared, sparing Quentin from have to tell more lies.  He paid the bill and escorted her out.  The doorman hailed a cab for them.  He helped her get in, and then climbed in after her.</div> <div> "Beth," he began hesitantly.  "I was thinking of doing some research on another </div> <div> topic later."  She looked at him expectantly.  "Have you heard of reincarnation?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I have.  Is that what you were going to do?"</div> <div>      There was something in the way she asked that made him proceed with more caution.  "It seems a fascinating concept.  What do you think?"</div> <div>      "We don't believe in it," she answered firmly.</div> <div>      "We?"</div> <div>      "I mean me.  Lutherans.  Are you a Christian?"</div> <div>      He laughed.  "Well, I guess so."</div> <div>      "Don't you know whether you are or not?"</div> <div>       She seemed really disturbed by his attitude, so he stopped laughing.  "I don't mean to be flip, Beth.  Yes, I am a Christian.  I just have a lot of questions, you know?  There are so many strange things that can't be explained."</div> <div>      "Like what?"</div> <div>      He felt like he was on the spot.  "Like-fate.  Did you ever wonder about why things happen the way they do?  Or-did you ever think that things happen in a certain way because they were meant to?"</div> <div>      "Sometimes I have."  She was turning red again.</div> <div>      "What, Beth?"</div> <div>      "I wondered about it when you came yesterday, with your niece-"</div> <div>      He took her hand and twined his fingers through hers.  She looked at their hands, then at him, but she didn't try to pull away.  "I wondered about that, too," he said.  He leaned toward her a little.  She closed her eyes and let him kiss her, very softly.  She opened her eyes and looked into his, barely breathing.  He almost thought he could see himself reflected in her eyes.  "Beth," he whispered.</div> <div>      She gave a little self-deprecating laugh and turned her head slightly, breaking eye contact with him.  "I feel so strange with you.  I really do feel as if I've met you somewhere before.  It just isn't possible, though.  I can't imagine where, or when."</div> <div>      "It's all right.  We'll remember at the right time.  Why don't we just have a good time tonight?"</div> <div>      When they arrived at the club, he wanted a table in the back.  He didn't want Phillip to see them, if that idiot should happen to show up here.  He asked for a bottle of champagne.  "Who is your friend?" Beth asked, as they became settled.  Quentin looked around and indicated Dave.  "He's colored?"  Beth sounded surprised.</div> <div>      "Why?  Don't you like colored people?"</div> <div>      "I don't know whether I do or I don't.  I don't know any colored people."</div> <div>      Quentin was relieved to hear she wasn't a member of the Klan.  There were lots of them around, even here in Chicago.  "He's a swell guy, Beth.  We've been friends a long time."</div> <div>      "How did you meet?  Usually I've been to theatres and shows on the north side, and all of the people who go there are white."</div> <div>      "We met in New Orleans, and what happened was I would stay after the cabaret closed so I could play the piano.  He stayed, and he'd play with me.  It's called `jamming.'"</div> <div>      "I see," she said, interested.  "And you ran into each other by coincidence here?"</div> <div> "Well, not exactly."  Quentin was uncomfortable.  He didn't want to keep lying to her, but he also didn't want to frighten her off with the truth.  Tell as much of the truth as possible, he told himself, and the lie won't be so bad.  "The opportunity for musicians was better in New York, so Dave wanted to go there.  I had some family on Long Island, and so we just decided to go together.  We were there for a year or so, and then I wanted to see my family here.  It was a coincidence that Dave found out a friend of his was here in Chicago, and he was ready to move on, too."  Beth was nodding.  It seemed to make sense to her, and he was relieved.  "Would you like to dance?" He asked.  That would keep them busy for awhile.</div> <div> It was hard not to pull her as close to him as he wanted.  They moved together with their old natural grace; only he was the one who remembered it.  She might-if her memories could be brought forth.  He wondered how he might be able to accomplish that when she claimed not to believe in reincarnation.  He might have to be satisfied with pursuing her as Kristin.  He thought he could live with that, but he also yearned for her to remember who she had been.  She relaxed and laughed more with the champagne, but she also remained aware of the time.  Just before midnight, she said, "We need to go.  I have to work in the morning.  Would you mind?"</div> <div> They got up to go.  As they did, he could see that Phillip was at a table in the front and that he was with a woman and two other couples.  He hoped Phil hadn't seen him and led Beth out the front, trying to avoid walking into Phil's line of sight.  When he got her into the cab, Beth gave her address.  Quentin was surprised.  It was in the Lincoln Park neighborhood.  "So you live near the doctor's office?" he asked.  "Do you go to the park much?"</div> <div> "I go when I get a chance," she answered, smiling.  "It's very pretty there-I like it.  We live in a Swedish neighborhood.  It's almost like the Norwegian community in Minnesota. There are a few other Norwegian families in the neighborhood."</div> <div>      They stopped at the address she'd given; he couldn't see very well in the dark, but it was of a comfortable size-like the Healeys' in Glen Cove.  He got out with her, intending to walk her to the door.  She stopped and turned to him.  "It's rather late.  I don't want to disturb my brother and sister-in-law.  We'd better say good night here."</div> <div>      He was disappointed, but he wasn't going to argue with her.  "Good night, then, Beth," he said.  He kissed her again, wanting to move a little further but managed to curb his impatience.  He didn't want to scare her off.</div> <div>      She returned the kiss and smiled at him.  "Thank you for a very interesting evening.  Perhaps I'll see you again, soon?"</div> <div>      She started to move off.  "Depend on it," he called after her softly.  She half-turned and smiled at him.  Then she walked to the door and went inside.  He got back into the cab and asked to go back to the club.</div> <div>  </div> <div> It was late--after closing.  Quentin sat at a table by himself, nursing a drink. Dave and CaraLinda came over to join him.  "Why you look so down in the mouth?  You strike out there, Franky?"</div> <div>      "No, it's not that," Quentin said.  He looked at CaraLinda.  "Do you know anything about hypnosis?  Or reincarnation?"</div> <div>      Dave looked surprised, but CaraLinda answered, "I know about these things.  Why do you ask?"</div> <div>      "Because I know her from before," Quentin answered.  "From the time when I knew Count Petofi."</div> <div>      Dave sucked his breath in sharply.  CaraLinda said cautiously, "You are sure of this?"</div> <div>      "She looks exactly like my Beth.  Only a little older.  Everything else is the same, right down to her voice and her expressions."</div> <div>      "So what do you want to do about this?  Will it help us with Petofi?"  CaraLinda asked eagerly.</div> <div>      "No, not really.  And I wanted to see if she could remember her life before, when she loved me and was going to marry me."</div> <div>      "Ah, so that is it," CaraLinda said softly.  "That is what the blonde one wanted to talk to you about?"</div> <div>      "Among other things.  Can you help?"</div> <div>      "I have done what you call hypnosis before.  She has to be willing for it to work.  I am willing to help you, though.  But when do we do something about this Petofi?"</div> <div>      "Angelique's found a portrait of Bartelli," Quentin confided.</div> <div>      "Ah, done by the same man who painted yours?"</div> <div>      "Yes, and she's got it hidden somewhere.  He'll probably be looking for it, and he'll be off balance.  I'm sure we'll move soon to get him back here to Chicago."</div> <div>      "I sure will be glad when this mess is over with," Dave said, disturbed.  "I really don't like all this evil-doings stuff."</div> <div>      "None of us do," CaraLinda said sharply.  "But we must take care of him.  We must act like the angels would."</div> <div>      That seemed to make Dave feel better about the whole thing. "How we gonna get Bartelli back here so we can get the hand?" CaraLinda wanted to know.  "You got an idea about that yet, Frank?"</div> <div>      "Well," Quentin said thoughtful.  "He's going to come back because he's got to continue his negotiations between Capone and Masseria.  Angelique thinks he's going to be looking for his portrait at the same time.  I think this is where I'm going to have to come in and let myself get 'spotted'."     </div> <div> "Franky, Franky," Dave said, very worried.  "You barely got out of New York alive.  I really don't like this.  And that lady helpin you--that Angelique?  Can she really fight this guy, Bartelli?"</div> <div>      "It's not HER he needs to fear, it's ME," CaraLinda said emphatically.  "I am the one who is the biggest threat to him, only he ain't gonna know it until it's too late."</div> <div>      "That devil-man is gonna just sit still and let you cut his hand off," Dave said, looking as if he couldn't believe it.  "Man big as he is and with all the men he's got around him.  He's just gonna sit there and let you do that."</div> <div>      "David, trust me.  You got to have faith in me."</div> <div>      Dave looked at Quentin.  His concern for CaraLinda's safety was working across his face.  "You never told me what he done to you.  You think she's gonna be safe with him?"</div> <div>      "She won't be alone, Dave, like I was," Quentin said softly.  "And she has a power I don't have-the scimitar."</div> <bR> <div>      Quentin came in late and was unable to fall asleep.  He was very restless and paced in his room until seven in the morning.  He got dressed and walked all the way to the doctor's office, intending to wait for her.  The little drugstore opened at eight, and he went in to wait.  The soda clerk willingly got him some coffee.  He'd taken about two sips of it when he saw Beth coming.  He left the cup where it was and went out to meet her.</div> <div>      She stopped short when she saw him.  He saw that she looked tired and pale.  "Good morning, Beth," he said.  She looked most unhappy.  "What's wrong?"</div> <div>      "I'm very surprised to see you," she answered, and now she looked obviously upset.</div> <div>      "I just wanted to see you again, and I didn't want to wait.  I was hoping-" he broke off, as she looked even more distressed.  "What's wrong?  Did I do something?"</div> <div>      "It's so silly," she began.  "I had a dream.  A nightmare, really.  You were in it-and someone else.  Someone I am sure I know, but I don't know why I know it.  It was a horrible dream-I think I need to sit down."</div> <div>      He took her elbow and gently guided her across the street to the park.  They sat down on a bench facing the doctor's office-the same one he'd sat on to wait for her the night before.  "Tell me about it," he encouraged her.</div> <div>      "I was running through the woods, but I don't know where I was.  You were there, calling me."  As she spoke, Quentin felt himself growing chilled.  "I was so frightened, and I just kept running.  There was another man there, and I felt that I knew him.  I didn't recognize him, though."</div> <div>      "What did he look like?"</div> <div>      "He was an older man, heavy set.  He had thick gray hair, curly, and a beard of some kind.  He was wearing dark glasses, and he was laughing at me.  A very evil laugh."  Quentin felt himself shudder as she spoke.  She wasn't aware that her dream was really a memory-one of her last ones as Beth Chavez.  She noticed his reaction.  "Do you know the man I'm talking about?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I know him," Quentin replied before thinking.  "This dream upset you very much, didn't it?"</div> <div>      "Yes.  How do you know that man?  Who is he?  Why would I be dreaming about him?"  She was becoming distraught.</div> <div>      "Ssh, Beth, ssh.  It'll be all right.  I don't know why you'd dream about him.  I could you tell about him, but I don't think it would help clear up the mystery of the dream."  He thought and then decided to take a risk.  "Do you remember me telling you about the doctors I've seen?  That they sometimes practice hypnosis to help people remember things?"</div> <div>      "Yes, I remember.  Are you suggesting that I let a doctor hypnotize me?"</div> <div>      "Yes," he answered hesitantly, thinking quickly, "but the trouble is, these doctors are very busy.  It's hard to get an appointment with them right away, and you're really upset now.  I know someone who can do hypnosis, but she's not a doctor.  You'd need to trust me."</div> <div>      She looked confused.  "Who?"</div> <div>      "CaraLinda Romano."</div> <div>      "The singer!  How does she know hypnosis?"</div> <div>      "She's a gypsy. She has a lot of skills doctors have.  She was taught, as a little girl-" He broke off.  Beth was looking at him incredulously.  "I know it seems like a crazy thing to do, but I really think she could help.  She could tell you right now why you were dreaming about me and that man."</div> <div>      "But I'm supposed to work-"</div> <div>      "We could go after hours."</div> <div>      "Oh, I don't know-"</div> <div>      "I'll tell you what," Quentin interrupted.  "You're really upset, and I hate to see you this way.  I want to help you.  Why don't you let me call my doctor friends and if any of them can see you, we'll go there.  But if they can't, I'll take you to CaraLinda.  Would you be willing to do that?"  She looked at him searchingly and then slowly nodded.  He sighed with relief.  "Good girl, Beth," he said.  "Do you feel all right enough to go to the office?  Or would you rather not?"</div> <div>      "The doctor needs me," she answered faintly.  "He doesn't have anyone else to help him."</div> <div>      "Let me take you there," Quentin said.  He took her by the elbow again.  He felt strong pangs of guilt because he knew he'd lied to her.  He wasn't going to ask any doctor to hypnotize her-it was too dangerous.  He took her upstairs to the doctor's office.  "I'll come back for you at lunch," he promised.  "I'll let you know what's going on. Would that be all right?"</div> <div>      "We have half day hours today," she said.</div> <div>      "Oh, that's better," he said, pleased.  He touched the side of her face very gently.  "Don't worry.  I'm going to help you."</div> <div>      She covered his hand with hers.  "Everything that has happened is so strange and frightening.  I don't know you at all and I should be very cautious and yet-and yet, I trust you."</div> <div>      "Good," he said, feeling guilty again.  "You should, because I'm going to help you, Beth."  He wanted to kiss her but decided it wouldn't be a good idea.  She slipped inside the doctor's office.  He practically ran down the stairs to find a phone so that he could call CaraLinda.</div> <bR> <div>      Quentin worked up the courage to tell Beth more lies when he went to pick her up at lunchtime.  He'd never contacted any of the doctors; he'd only called CaraLinda, who told him to bring Beth to the club immediately after lunch.  She'd hypnotize Beth-if she was willing.  Quentin had to be persuasive enough to convince her it'd work.</div> <div>      He brought Beth back downstairs so they could get something to eat.  "Dr. Buston really tried to find time in his schedule, but he just couldn't do it," Quentin said as convincingly as possible.  He found that lying was still easy, but he felt ashamed of himself.  He really didn't like beginning with Beth again this way.  "He seemed to feel that this was something we needed to do right away so you wouldn't keep having the same dream."  Beth looked alarmed.  Bastard, Quentin called himself and continued.  "I told him about CaraLinda Romano, and he said it was all right to trust her."  He looked at Beth, half-hoping she'd swallow the whole story. The other half hoped she'd see right through his lie and give him a hard slap in the face.</div> <div>      Beth swallowed.  He could almost see the hook and bait going down her throat.  "All right, if the doctor felt it was important-"</div> <div>      "Do you trust psychiatrists, Beth?"</div> <div>      "Of course I do, Quentin.  I work for a doctor who respects them a lot.  They can help people a lot."</div> <div>      "Good, good."  He took her hand in his.  "We'll eat first, and then we'll go to CaraLinda.  She learned hypnosis from a psychiatrist."</div> <div>      "She did?"</div> <div>      "Yes, you see the gypsy people are a very closed community.  They don't trust doctors.  She's learned lots of things in order to help her people."  Quentin looked away, finding he couldn't look her in the eye anymore.</div> <div>      "Have you ever been hypnotized?"</div> <div>      "No," he answered truthfully, looking at her again.  "But don't worry.  You can't be hypnotized unless you really want to be, and CaraLinda can't make you do anything you wouldn't normally do."</div> <div>      She nodded.  "Well, I'm willing.  I don't want to have that awful dream again.  It was horrible.  I was so terrified, but I don't understand why I should've been.  It doesn't seem like it should've been so frightening."</div> <div>      "Maybe there was something in the dream you don't remember.  That's how hypnosis can help you."  At least this was the truth, too.  She nodded.  When they were done eating, they went out and hailed a cab.  He'd taken her hand in his and was still holding it.  She seemed to be comforted by that, which gratified him.  They went directly to the club, where CaraLinda was waiting.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U>15:  The Trap</U></A>  <A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U>17:  Beth</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>