"Liz!" Enid cried softly, reaching out to her best friend. "I'm so glad you've come," she added, her eyes filling with tears.

  Elizabeth sat down on a chair next to Enid's hospital bed. "I came the minute they'd let me!" She laughed. "I've been driving the nurses crazy for the last few days!"

  Enid smiled. "I know," she said. "They finally let George come today, too. He's just down the hall now, getting a drink of water," she added.

  Elizabeth didn't say anything. "How are you, Enid?" she asked seriously, squeezing her friend's hand tightly.

  Enid lowered her eyes. When she looked up again, her face was perfectly composed. "It's not that bad, Liz," she said gently. "Oh, I admit it's scary. I still can't get used to not being able to feel anything in my legs. But the doctors think they may be able to operate in a few days. And the important thing—"

  "What's the important thing?" George asked, walking into the room with a paper cup of water. "Hi, Liz," he said after a moment, looking at her with a mixutre of pain and embarrassment.

  Liz nodded but said nothing.

  Enid said softly, "I was just going to say that what really matters is we're both alive."

  George blushed. "She's amazing," he said to Elizabeth. "Do you realize she saved my life?"

  Elizabeth looked at him gravely. "I know."

  Enid looked from Elizabeth to George, her brow wrinkling. "Don't be so serious, you two. All I get around here are doctors and nurses. Why don't you tell me all the gossip?"

  George's blush deepened. "There isn't any," he said hastily, not looking at Elizabeth.

  "Jessica's taking a gourmet cooking class," Elizabeth said and giggled. "In fact, she made a present for you. I'm not sure how it tastes," she added, taking out the box Jessica had packed that afternoon, "but it sure sounds fancy. It's a raspberry torte."

  Enid burst out laughing, her green eyes lighting up. "What's Jessica doing in a cooking class?" she asked.

  Elizabeth smiled. It was so good to see Enid looking cheerful. "I think it may have something to do with Jean-Pierre, the chef who's teaching the class," she confided. "You know Jess. There's a big dance coming up, and I think she's decided to look for a date from outside school."

  "It looks awfully good," Enid said, opening the box. "Not like Jess." She giggled. "Are you sure Jessica made it herself?" she asked doubtfully. "This guy must be fabulous to warrant this kind of effort!"

  George hadn't said a word. Uncomfortable, he was standing near the foot of Enid's bed, listening to the conversation and smiling awkwardly.

  "I'd forgotten all about the dance," Enid added. For just a minute a wistful expression came over her face, and Elizabeth thought how hard it must be for her, lying in a hospital bed unable to move while life at school went on as normal.

  "George, don't you want to sit down?" Enid asked, turning her head to give him a warm smile.

  George looked nervously down at his feet. "I think I'd better be going soon," he told her, still avoiding Elizabeth's gaze. "I'm staying home from school this week, and I promised my mother I'd pick up some things at the store for dinner."

  "Oh," Enid said, looking crestfallen. "OK. Can you come back tomorrow?" she asked eagerly.

  "Of course I can," George murmured, leaning over the bed and kissing her softly. "Take care of yourself," he added quickly, giving her blanket an awkward pat. " 'Bye, Liz," he said almost as an afterthought when he'd reached the door.

  Enid was quiet for a minute after George had gone. "I'm so worried about him," she told Elizabeth. "Sometimes I think . . . well, what if I'd lost him? It would've been so terrible."

  Elizabeth swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. Poor Enid! She looked so helpless. Her ivory complexion was even paler than usual, framed by her soft brown hair. It upset Elizabeth to see Enid so trusting, so innocent. Here she was worrying about losing George—and Elizabeth knew she'd already lost him.

  "Enid," she murmured, giving her friend's hand another squeeze, "don't worry about a thing. You just rest and get well. OK?"

  "OK," Enid whispered. "Come back soon," she added. "Liz, seeing you two is the best thing that's happened in days!"

  "I'll be back tomorrow," Elizabeth promised. "And be sure to let me know if there's anything I can bring you."

  "I'll let you know," Enid said, trying hard to smile.

  As Elizabeth closed the door to Enid's room, she sighed. She knew what Enid needed more than anything in the world was George's love. She had sacrificed herself so unthinkingly for him, and now she needed to know that he loved her.

  And that, Elizabeth thought sadly, is something I can't bring Enid, no matter how hard I try.

  "The Federal Aviation Administration called while you were at the hospital," Mrs. Warren told George as he sank into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "They wanted to let you know that they found the plane this morning. They're going to take the engine apart to see if they can find out why it stalled."

  "Thanks, Mom," George said quietly. He was certain that they wouldn't find anything wrong with the engine. It was his inexperience that had caused the crash. He knew he'd panicked too much to be able to control the plane once the engine cut out. Even if the board didn't take his license away, he knew he'd never fly again. Not after this.

  Seeing Enid had been much harder than he'd expected. Try as he would, he couldn't act natural with her. He felt as if he had guilt written all over his face. She looked so helpless, lying in that bed, and every time he looked at her he felt like crying.

  And when Elizabeth arrived, he thought, it was just unbearable. He had a feeling Elizabeth wouldn't tell Enid about their conversation at the airfield—not for his sake, but for Enid's. Even so, she knew. And the grave expression in her blue-green eyes had almost driven him mad.

  I don't know if I'm going to be able to go through with this, George thought weakly, rubbing the bandage on his head. Just being with Enid makes me feel so cheap, so dishonest.

  But he had no alternative, he reminded himself. He had to pull himself together and act as though nothing was wrong. He just had to!

  Stifling a sob, George headed upstairs to his room. For the time being, all he wanted was to be alone.

  Five

  Elizabeth and George were sitting stiffly in the waiting room on the sixth floor of the Joshua Fowler Memorial Hospital, waiting to see Enid. The night before, after Elizabeth had gotten home, she'd received a telephone call from Mrs. Rollins. Dr. MacGregor had decided it was time to operate. The swelling had subsided sufficiently, and now they'd be able to look at the disc that was cutting off the nerve communication to Enid's legs.

  "I know she'll want to see you before the operation," Mrs. Rollins had told Elizabeth. "She's being so brave, Liz, but I think she's scared to death."

  "Of course I'll be there," Elizabeth had told her, even though she knew she'd have to miss some of her afternoon classes to go to the hospital.

  Mrs. Rollins was with Enid now.

  "God, it's terrible waiting!" George burst out, staring helplessly at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth picked a magazine up from the chair next to her and opened it. "Just imagine how Enid must feel," she remarked. And quit feeling sorry for yourself, she added silently.

  "Liz," George said, "we have to talk. If you only knew—"

  "What could we possibly have to talk about?" Elizabeth interrupted, keeping an eye on the door to the waiting room. She didn't want Mrs. Rollins to find her quarreling with George. But she was too fed up with him to keep quiet a minute longer.

  "Liz, it's all over between Robin and me!" George insisted, running his hands through his hair. "I swear it is! After what happened—"

  Elizabeth stared at him. Is that why you went over to see Robin the other day? she wondered. She was convinced George wasn't telling the truth. And when she thought of Enid, waiting to be wheeled to the operating room . . .

  "George? Liz?" Mrs. Rollins said, stepping into the waiting room. "You can go in and see her now," she told them, trying to smile.

  Elizabeth let George go into Enid's room ahead of her. She wanted to compose her face before she saw her friend, afraid some of the anger would show in her eyes. But she needn't have worried. The minute she saw Enid her anger melted.

  "How are you?" she asked her friend anxiously, dropping into the chair next to her bed. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat when she looked at Enid. She'd never seen her friend so pale—and there were tears shining in Enid's eyes.

  "I'm scared," Enid whispered, looking from Elizabeth to George. "I'm so scared."

  George cleared his throat nervously. "Don't be," he told her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Dr. MacGregor knows exactly what he's doing. And from what he's said, I have a feeling you'll be walking out of here in no time at all."

  Elizabeth bit her lip and stared at the linoleum tiles covering the hospital floor. She wished she could feel as optimistic as George. But all she could think of over and over again, was the terrifying thought: What if the operation doesn't work?

  She couldn't let Enid see how worried she was. "George is right," she said firmly. "Dr. MacGregor is the best there is. You're going to be just fine, Enid."

  Enid shook her head, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys," she whispered. "I feel like I've got to be brave, for your sake. Liz, I keep thinking about when you and Todd got in that motorcycle accident and everyone was afraid—" She stopped talking, her voice choked with tears.

  Elizabeth shuddered. That accident was one of the worst things that had ever happened to her, and each time she set foot in this hospital she remembered it. "And look how well I turned out!" she said as cheerfully as she could.

  "And, George," Enid said softly, stroking his hand. "You're always so brave. If it weren't for you . . ." She turned her head aside, tears spilling onto the pillow. "I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for you," she sobbed. "I don't think I could go on."

  George looked quickly at Elizabeth before leaning over the bed. "You don't have to worry about that," he said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here at your side as long as they'll let me."

  Enid's eyes widened as if she'd just remembered the ordeal she was about to face. "Will you both be outside the whole time?" she demanded. "Will you be in the waiting room the whole time I'm in the operating room?"

  George nodded gravely. "I promise," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

  Elizabeth sighed. She didn't feel quite so angry with George anymore. He was suffering, too. She only wished he were still in love with Enid.

  But she wasn't about to let Enid see the wistful expression in her eyes. "I'll be right outside, too," she whispered, giving her friend a hug. "I know you're going to be just fine, Enid. I can feel it."

  "Thank you," Enid murmured sadly, lying back on the pillow. "Thank you both."

  Just then a pretty young nurse came into the room with a clipboard in her hand. "Sorry, you two," she said brightly, "but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. We've got to get Enid ready."

  Elizabeth felt a terrible uneasiness in her stomach as she followed George out into the waiting room. Her last glance at Enid didn't do much to console her. She looked so small and frail in that huge bed.

  Thank heavens Mrs. Rollins would be at the hospital with George and her, she thought gratefully. The long hours of waiting for the results of the operation would be unbearable if she and George were left alone.

  Even as it was, she thought unhappily, she had a feeling this would be one of the longest afternoons of her life!

  It was three o'clock, and Jessica was unwrapping the pastry she'd put in the refrigerator after the last class. "Today we are making pâte feuilletée, puff pastry," Jean-Pierre announced, and Jessica's heart beat louder the second she heard his voice. "This is one of the greatest challenges a chef can face," he added, his accent making the ordinary words sound so sexy Jessica couldn't believe it. "We must try very hard to insure the pastry is light and flaky."

  "Who's he kidding," Lila grumbled, poking at her dough with the tips of her fingers. "This stuff feels slimy," she whispered to Jessica. "I think you were right, Jess. This class is a waste of time."

  "Waste?" Jessica echoed indignantly, sprinkling flour on her pastry marble so the dough wouldn't stick. "It's not a waste! I think it's terribly important to know how to cook."

  Lila snorted. "I don't suppose Jean-Pierre has anything to do with your new obsession?" she asked slyly.

  Jessica smiled dreamily, kneading the dough with both hands. "Just imagine," she crooned. "Jean-Pierre will take me back to Paris with him and let me cook in one of his restaurants. People from all over the world will rave about my light, flaky pastry. And Jean-Pierre will be so impressed he won't be able to stop himself. He'll fall madly in love with me. And—"

  "You're crazy, Jess," Lila grumbled, sprinkling flour on her marble gingerly so she wouldn't get her blouse covered with it. "I think you've really gone off the deep end this time. He's way too old for you, for one thing. And for another—"

  "It's different in European countries, Lila," Jessica said dismissively, dotting her dough with butter. "I can guarantee you, Jean-Pierre and I are meant for each other. Did you see what a big deal he made out of my mustard?"

  Lila shook her head. "I mean it, Jess," she continued. "This time you've really completely flipped."

  "Just between you and me," Jessica added, folding her dough over, "I have a feeling Jean-Pierre's going to be my date for the dance the week after next. I can just sort of sense that things are about to happen."

  "The only thing that's about to happen is that little men in white coats are going to come drag you away," Lila muttered.

  "Now this," Jean-Pierre exclaimed, stopping beside Jessica as he made his way around the room, "is exactly the way the dough should look before rolling."

  To Jessica's delight, he picked her dough up to display it to the other students. "You are a natural," he told her, smiling. "I expect even better things from you in the future."

  "You see?" Jessica whispered when Jean-Pierre had moved away. "What did I tell you?"

  Lila looked down at the grayish ball she had formed and sniffed. "You can have Jean-Pierre and all this stupid glop," she told her. "I'm getting fed up with the whole thing."

  Jessica grinned as she rolled her dough out flat. She wasn't sick of the class—not at all. And Jean-Pierre wasn't the only reason why she was still interested.

  Jessica Wakefield had come up with a brilliant idea.

  For as long as Jessica could remember, Elizabeth had always outshone her when it came to giving gifts. It wasn't that Jessica didn't have good ideas. It was just that Elizabeth was so hard to compete with! Liz was perfect at everything, Jessica thought, sighing, and she was organized, thoughtful, loving. She never forgot an important date or failed to come up with a meaningful gift just at the right time or place.

  The Wakefields' wedding anniversary was the date Jessica had always had the hardest time remembering. And Elizabeth always made her feel like a jerk, giving their parents a present when Jessica had forgotten all about it. But this year I haven't forgotten, she thought with a triumphant smile. And Liz isn't going to show me up this time!

  Before she'd started the class, Jessica hadn't been enthusiastic about the idea of learning to cook. But Jean-Pierre's enthusiasm was beginning to effect her. She felt tremendously encouraged, and she was sure now she could make a really special, romantic dinner for her parents—one they'd never forget.

  Maybe she could even ask Jean-Pierre for help, she thought with a sly smile. He could advise her on the menu—and, one thing might lead to another, and they might end up planning on going to the dance together after all. Stranger things had happened!

  Jessica couldn't help humming as she cut her dough. There was nothing she loved as much as a good plan, and this scheme was particularly enjoyable. I'm through with being second best, Jessica told herself, giving the dough a loving pat. This time I'm going to make Mom and Dad proud of me!

  And if she happened to win Jean-Pierre over while she was doing it, so much the better, she thought. She'd just consider it a bonus for work well done!

  "Mrs. Rollins?" Dr. MacGregor said, stepping into the waiting room and taking off his surgical mask.

  Enid's mother jumped to her feet, her face strained with anxiety. "How is she, doctor?" she managed.

  Dr. MacGregor smiled, wiping his brow with one hand. "Your daughter's going to be just fine," he told her. "It was a tricky operation, and it took a lot longer than we expected, but I don't see any reason why she won't be able to resume normal activity within a short period."

  "Thank God." George sighed and slumped back in his chair. His face had drained of color, and Elizabeth could see how relieved he was.

  "Oh, Mrs. Rollins," Elizabeth gasped, jumping out of her chair and throwing her arms around Enid's mother, "I'm so happy for her!"

  Mrs. Rollins hugged Elizabeth, then turned to the doctor.

  "Can I see her?" she asked tearfully.

  "Just for a minute or two," Dr. MacGregor said, smiling. "But what I wanted to tell you is that she's going to be very weak at first. Don't expect her to jump right out of bed and dance. She's shaken up by the whole thing, and it may take her awhile to get her old legs back. But we've set up physical therapy for her here in the hospital, and after she leaves she should come back as an outpatient every day until she has completely regained the use of her leg muscles."

  "When can she come home?" Mrs. Rollins asked.

  "Well, we'll have to see how she does. But I'm sure she'll be eager to get out of here, and if there are no complications, I don't see any reason why she can't go home next week."

  "Family only," the doctor added as George and Elizabeth tried to follow Mrs. Rollins down the corridor toward Enid's room. "She's not conscious yet," he added gently. "But I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you both tomorrow."

  Elizabeth bit her lip. This was the moment she'd been dreading. She was alone now with George, and the relief of learning that Enid was going to be all right had drained her so much she was afraid she might tell him what she really thought.