He snorted into his Diet Coke. Flicked his wrist and tossed the drink down. Then he set the glass on the table with a bang. “Yeah, well, see, that’s the whole thing. That’s the whole thing right there. There isn’t—but that wasn’t gonna stop them. At first, when they found it, they sort of blurted the whole thing out. The tumor’s too deep, they said. Too involved with vital functions. Blah, blah, blah, this and that. Then—you could see it—their fingers started itching for the scalpel. ‘Well, we could do an exploratory. We have got a new technique. We might just run a tube into your head and pump the radioactive stuff right on in there.’ It wasn’t gonna stop me dying, see. They just wanted to make sure I’d be as miserable as possible before I went.”

Harper did not want to trouble him with her tears. But the smile at the side of his mouth, the hard glint of humor in his eyes, the courage … She turned away from him, back to the window. She glared at the scarfed thug on the corner. She felt only a simmering anger for him now.

“So I ran away,” Storm said. “They wouldn’t stop, you know. They were like Satan or something. Tempting me. A small chance of remission. Good results in a test in Baltimore. I was afraid I would lose my nerve, seize the chance—and then they’d have me, they’d butcher me for no reason, ruin the rest of my life. So I ran away. Came here. I figured, what the hell. I wouldn’t have even known I had it if I hadn’t cracked my head one night. Had to have a CAT scan, and that showed something. Then they did this magnetic image thing. I wouldn’t even have known, if it wasn’t for that. Doctors said I might go another six months to a year without even having any symptoms …”

Here his voice trailed off in a manner that squeezed Harper’s heart. He touched his arm once more, lightly, and she understood that the symptoms were already upon him. Before she could say anything, though, she heard his chair scrape, saw his reflection on the window as he stood up.

“Anyway, now you see the problem. With Sophia, I mean.”

Quickly, Harper rounded on him again. Frowned at him. “I do not. If I’m right, and she needs help … if I’m right and she’s shown a certain unconscious inclination to confide in you as she’s never been known to confide in anyone … then I refuse to see the problem. A man and woman should be able to help one another without its becoming … overly complicated.”