It was in the very core of their relationship, this anxiety of hers. When things went bad, she remembered that she’d been his second choice, and no matter how often she told herself it wasn’t true, there was a slim, shadowy version of herself that believed it, worried about it.

It was a destructive neurosis. Like water rising in the Pilchuck River, it eroded everything around it, sent big chunks of earth tumbling away.

Downstairs she heard a sound.

He was home.

“Thank God.”

She eased painfully out of bed and went downstairs.

The lights were off. The fire was almost dead; only a faint orange glow remained. At first she thought she’d been wrong, that he wasn’t home; then she noticed the shadows on the deck. Two people, sitting side by side, their shoulders touching. Moonlight revealed their shapes, turned them silver against the blackness of the water. She crossed the house quietly, opened the door, and stepped out into the night. A slight breeze ruffled her hair and nightgown.

Tully twisted around, hugged Johnny, whispered something in his ear. His response was muted by the sound of the water slapping the dock. He might have laughed; Kate couldn’t be sure.

“You two having a party without me?” She heard the break in her voice and drew in a sharp breath to cover it. In her heart she knew that Johnny hadn’t been turning to kiss Tully, but that shadow self of hers wasn’t so sure. The ugly, toxic thought was smaller than a drop of blood, yet it poisoned the entire stream.

Johnny was at her side in an instant. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he drew back, she looked around for Tully, but they were alone on the deck.

For the first time in her life, she wished she loved him less. It was dangerous to feel this way; she was like a naked infant exposed to the elements. Fragile and infinitely afraid. He could ruin her someday. Of that she had no doubt.

Tully tried, as the months passed and a new year began, to remain patient and believe in the best, but by the end of May, she’d almost given up hope. Nineteen eighty-eight was not shaping up to be a good year for her. It was early now, on a hot spring day, and she was working hard to enjoy her spot as the replacement anchor. At the end of the broadcast, she headed back to her office.

She was just sitting down at her desk when she heard:

“Line two, Tully.”

She picked up the phone, pushed the square white button for line two, which immediately lit up. “Tallulah Hart.”

“Hello, Ms. Hart. Dick Emerson here. I’m the VP of programming for NBC in New York. I understand you’re looking to move up to the networks.”

Tully drew in a sharp breath. “I am.”