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"Now, what can I do for you? Your call sounded urgent. " He had been looking at her with some concern since Jane had shown her up to his office. Her face was drawn and she seemed suddenly old and frail as she drew off her gloves.

She sat down on the low sofa that stood against one wall of the room beneath a colorful display of some of Franklyn-Greerson's artwork. "I want to talk to you about Sam, " she said without preamble.

Nick closed the office door carefully and leaned against it. "What about Sam?" he asked. "How do you think he is?"

"Fine. Sam has never been ill in his life, as you well know. "

"I don't mean physically, Nick. " She fiddled with the clasp of her handbag.

"Then what do you mean exactly?" Eyebrow raised, Nick sat down beside her and reached for one of her hands. "What is this all about?"

She sighed. "I had a long talk with Sam the other day about Jo and he said some very strange things. I can't get them out of my mind. "

Nick's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "Jo has been doing some very strange things. "

His mother's fingers closed around his and she squeezed his hand. She looked up at him. "Nick, you do know that Sam is very fond of Jo, don't you?"

"Of course he is. He's known her for years. " Nick leaned forward and helped himself to a smoked salmon sandwich.

She frowned. "I think it's a little more than that, " she said cautiously.

"You don't mean you think he's in love with her?" She saw the quick flash of anger in Nick's face, almost instantly masked.

"No, " she said hastily. "But I think he's become too involved in this business of her past life. He said such weird things to me about it—I just think you and Jo should discourage him from discussing it with her any more. In fact, I think it would be much better if you could persuade him to go back to Scotland and forget about the whole thing. Get him right away from her. "

Nick looked at his mother suspiciously. "You really are worried, aren't you?" he said after a thoughtful pause. "And it's not like you to interfere. What are you trying to say to me?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, " she retorted sharply. "I have said it. Now, tell me, have you and Jo made it up yet?"

"No. "

She sighed. "Oh, Nick!" Her voice was wistful. "Then perhaps it doesn't matter after all. " She picked up a sandwich and nibbled the edge of it. "I love you and Sam so much, and I've come to love Jo too. I don't want any of you to get hurt, that's all. "

Nick stood up abruptly. Turning his back on her, he strode toward the window and stared out. "No one is going to get hurt, " he said.

"I wish I could believe that, " she replied softly. She was watching her younger son with an expression of enormous sadness. If only she could tell him what it was she really feared, but with Nick's temper she didn't dare. She put down the sandwich and reached for her coffee. "Promise me something, " she said carefully. "If Sam should suggest that you ever be hypnotized like Jo, I want you to refuse. "

He turned. "Why?"

"I have a good reason for asking, Nick. You must never let Sam hypnotize you. "

"Too late. He already has. " He grinned wryly. "A little gesture of brotherly goodwill—and it didn't hurt a bit. "

Dorothy stood up in agitation. Trying to cover it, she stopped and picked up Nick's cup, carrying it to him as he stood there. "When did he do it?" she whispered.

"To be exact? The day before yesterday. " He took the coffee from her. "What is this really about, Ma? What are you afraid of?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Nothing. Just a superstitious fear of the unknown, I suppose. But I never thought you would do it. You used to be afraid even of falling asleep when you were a little boy—"

"It wasn't like falling asleep. I remember every word he said—" He hesitated. "At least, I think I do—"

Her eyes shot up to meet his. "Oh, Nick—"

"It's okay. There's nothing to worry about. Sam knows what he's doing. "

She turned away. "That is what I'm afraid of, " she said, so quietly he did not hear her.

Absentmindedly she picked up her sandwich again and stood staring at the wall on which hung a steel-framed silhouette of two children playing ball. It was several minutes before she could bring herself to speak again. "And did he find out who you were in Matilda's past, " she asked at last, "or did he say you were not there at all?" She turned back slowly to look at his face. "Well, Nick? What did he let you remember?"

Chapter 21

Jo did not want to stop. She wanted to drive on. She wanted to get as far away as possible from the Welsh Marches, where the name of every town and village seemed to beckon her back into the past. She was afraid that if she stopped it would happen again. The past was still there, floating on the edge of her consciousness, and with it the shadow of Matilda's fear.

Driving blindly southward, bypassing Abergavenny, she realized suddenly she must have taken a different road from the one she intended. She pulled up at last, grabbing her road map, trying to force herself to concentrate on the network of roads on the page in front of her, tracing a route back toward London with her forefinger as the sun blazed down on the car.

She stopped for a late lunch in the end at Monmouth, drawing the car onto the side of the road, too tired to drive farther without a break. The garden outside the pub was cool and shady, and she found herself

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