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her combs came loose and spun off into empty s.p.a.ce. "No one knows but
you. And no one but you will ever know."
She clawed at him, fighting her way back from the edge. Her strength
threw him off balance, and for an instant, she was free. Then he
clamped an arm around her waist and began to heave.
She lost her footing, teetered, then threw her weight back against him.
Screaming, she saw the sky and ground revolve.
Michael broke through the door at a run. He shouted, but neither of the
two locked in a life-and-death struggle heard. He saw Pete raise his
gun, and fired his own.
The wall caught Emma at the waist, stealing her breath. Hands
grabbed at her, dragged at her until half her body tilted over the edge.
Dazed, she saw Pete's face below her, his eyes wide and terrified. The
fingers on her wrist slipped, and released. Then he was falling,
falling. Momentum had her sliding toward him.
Hands were dragging her back, pulling her away from the wall. Her feet
left the floor again, but there were arms around her, squeezing, holding
her safe and close. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard her name
repeated over and over.
"Michael." She didn't have to look, but let her head drop on his
shoulder. "Michael, don't let go."
"I won't."
"I remembered." She began to sob then. Through the tears, she saw her
father standing beside her. "Dad. I remembered." She reached out for
him.
EMmA WATCHED mE RAmEs from the fire Stevie had built in the hearth. He
stood beside it, hands in his pockets, saying nothing. They had all
come home with her, her father, P.M. and his family, Johnno. Bev made
endless pots of tea.
Though no one spoke, she sensed the shock was wearing off into
bewilderment. There were questions that could never be answered,
mistakes that could never be rectified. Regrets that would never
completely disappear.
But they had survived, Emma thought. The odds had been against them,
individually and as a group, but they had survived. Even triumphed.
Rising, she walked out to the terrace where Brian was alone, watching
the sea. He would suffer, Emma thought. It was his nature to pull
problems into his heart and mourn, whether they were his or the world's.
Then somehow, he would Turn them into something to be played on guitar
or keyboard, with flute and violin. Moving to him, she rested her head
on his shoulder.
"He was one of us," Brian said after a moment. "He'd been with us since
the beginning."
"i know."
"When I saw him with his hands on you, I wanted to kill him myself And
now He watched the play of the early moon on the water. "I can hardly
believe it all happened. Why?" He turned, taking her into his arms.
"For G.o.d's sake, why did he do it?"
She pressed hard against him, listening to the ebb and flow of the
sea. How could she tell him? If he knew the reasons, he would never be