Relaxed by the warmth of another body against her own, she lay back against the wrinkled pillow. Erika held the cup to her mouth. It tasted bland and reminded her of childhood and innocence. She swallowed the milk and fell asleep almost at once, lost in the nothingness she had been trying all night to reach.

Some time later a cup was again held to her mouth, and she drank and lay down again, thinking fuzzily that this time she would really get up and get dressed. Another time a hand rested on her forehead, warm and as light as a butterfly. Later—it must have been evening, the light was on in the kitchenette and a small lamp on the corner table was lit— she woke to see Erika curled into the uncomfortable rocker, her loafers on the floor beside her. She was reading, holding the book away from her eyes as thought farsighted. Her face was intent and sober, and yet Kate knew she was alert for the smallest sign of life from the bed.

Kate lay looking at her from half-closed eyes, feeling safe and cared for. Watch it, she warned herself. You don't want to get mixed up in anything. But she was asleep before she could follow the thought any farther.

When she woke it was full daylight. Sunlight poured in at the window, and the bells of St. James's, a block over, were ringing for the eleven o'clock Mass.

CHAPTER 5

“Wake up, sleepy. It's time to get up." She had known Erika would be there. It seemed Kate, drifting groggily up from a bottomless ocean of sleep, that she had been there forever. The one good thing in this scary world was now Erika's face, with the kind eyes and the thin curving scar. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven. Hear the church bells?”

"Then it's Sunday," Kate said slowly. She felt proud to have figured it out. "What happened?"

"You've been asleep."

Kate sat up carefully, expecting her head to hurt. It did. "That's impossible. I never sleep more than three or four hours, not even when I'm sober."

Erika giggled. "You slept all yesterday and all night too. You even got up and went to the bathroom with your eyes shut. I had to lead you because you couldn't find the door. Remember? you ate some soup too."

Kate blinked. "I don't know."

Time had been a nameless confusion, some of it lost as completely as if she were under ether, some a trance-like state halfway between sleeping and wakefulness. Sights and sounds had drifted in through the black doors of sleep, but she couldn't remember them. Nor could she remember the touch of Erika's hand or the sound of her voice. She wished, with a pang of longing, that she had waked to find Erika's warmth and strength against her.

"You kept dropping the spoon," Erika said.

"I've been a lot of bother."

"Sick people always are." Erika's look held hers without evasion, but she didn't offer to come any closer. Evidently the bother didn't matter.