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  I’ve decided to send this letter to you after all. It’s a mistake. I know it is, but I can’t stop myself. I have to tell you what to do if you’re pregnant. I can’t bear the thought that you won’t realize there’s an alternative to an abortion.

  They may be watching your mail, so I’m going to have this letter brought to you instead of using the post office. The man who gives this to you is a friend. He’s putting himself in jeopardy for me, just as you did. Trust Matt as completely as you’d trust me. Tell him if you’re pregnant and what you want to do so he can relay it to me. One more thing, before I hurry to get this to the village in time for the weekly pickup—I want you to have some money for whatever you need or want. The money Matt will give you is mine, so there’s no point in arguing with him about taking it. He’ll be acting on my instructions, and he’ll follow them to the letter, so don’t give the man a hard time, sweetheart. I have plenty of money for my own needs.

  I wish I had time to write you a better letter or that I’d kept one of the others I’ve written so I could send that instead. They were all much more coherent than this one. I won’t send another letter to you, so don’t watch for one. Letters will make us both hope and dream, and if I don’t stop doing that, I will die of wanting you.

  Before I go—I see from the newspapers that Costner has a new movie coming out in the States. If you dare to start fantasizing over Kevin after you see it, I will haunt you for the rest of your life.

  I love you, Julie. I loved you in Colorado. I love you here, where I am. I will always love you. Everywhere. Always.

  Julie would have read the letter again, but she couldn’t focus through the torrent of tears racing from her eyes, and the pages slid from her fingers. Covering her face with her hands, she turned against the wall and wept. She wept with joy and bittersweet longing and raging futility; she wept at the injustice that made him a fugitive and at her own stupidity for leaving him in Colorado.

  In the living room, Meredith asked Matt a quiet question while reaching for the china coffeepot, but her gaze strayed toward the dining room doorway, and her eyes riveted in alarm on the back of a weeping woman. “Matt, look!” she said quickly, already standing up and rushing forward ahead of him. “Julie—” she said softly when she reached the dining room. Wincing at the heartbroken sobs wrenching from the other woman, she put her hands on Julie’s shaking shoulders and whispered, “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Yes!” Julie said brokenly. “You can read that letter and tell me how anyone could ever believe that man murdered anyone!”

  Uncertainly, Meredith reached for the pages lying on the floor and glanced at her husband who’d stopped in the doorway. “Matt, why don’t you pour us all some of the wine Julie offered us earlier.”

  It took Matt several minutes to find the wine, locate a corkscrew, and open a bottle. He was taking glasses out of a cupboard when he heard Meredith walk into the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder, intending to thank her again for coming here, but the stricken look on her face made him turn around, the glasses forgotten. “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously, searching her wan, beautiful features.

  “His letter—” she whispered, her eyes glazed with tears. “God! Matt—you can’t believe this letter!”

  Irrationally angry with Zack for upsetting his wife, Matt slid his arm around her, pulling her close while he took the letter from her hand and began to read with narrowed eyes. Slowly, his annoyance gave way to shock, then disbelief, and then to sorrow. He’d just finished reading the last line when Julie appeared in the doorway. Meredith heard her and hastily turned around to face her, taking the handkerchief Matt handed her, while Julie tried to smile and wipe away her own tears with her fingertips.

  “This,” Matt said, his voice heavy with regret and sympathy, “has turned out to be one hell of an evening. I’m . . . sorry, Julie,” he finished lamely, studying the strange look in her wet eyes. “I know Zack didn’t mean to make you unhappy.”

  For one last time, Julie swiftly considered all she’d be leaving behind if she executed her hastily made scheme, but her decision had already been made in the dining room. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she said, “When Zack contacts you, will you kindly remind him that I was abandoned by my own mother and inform him that I will not bring a baby into this world and have it know I did the same thing to it.” With a teary smile, she added, “Please also tell him that, if he truly wants me to have his baby, which I would very much like to do, then all he has to do is let me join him in his exile.”

  That last sentence dropped like a bomb into the room, and in the silent aftershocks, Julie watched Matt Farrell’s expression go from amazement to admiration, but his words were carefully designed to dampen her enthusiasm: “I have no idea when, or if, Zack will contact me again.”

  Julie laughed a little hysterically. “Oh, yes, he will—and very soon!” she said with absolute certainty, knowing now that her own instincts about Zack had always been right and that if she’d only listened to them she’d probably have been able to talk him into letting her leave Colorado with him. “He’ll contact you right away because he won’t be able to bear not knowing what I said.”

  Matt realized she was probably right and stifled a grin. “Is there anything else you want me to tell him when he contacts me?”

  Julie nodded emphatically. “Yes. Tell him he has a maximum of . . . four weeks to get me there before I take other action. And, tell him that . . .” She hesitated in embarrassment at the thought of telling Zack something like this through a third party, and then she decided it didn’t matter, so long as Zack heard the words. In an aching voice, she said, “Tell him that I am dying without him, too. And—and tell him that if he doesn’t let me come to him, I will squander all his money on twenty-five thousand videotapes of Kevin Costner’s new movie and then I will drool over that man for the rest of my life!”

  “I think,” Meredith said with a choked laugh, “that should make him agree at once.” To Matt, she added, “Can you remember all that verbatim, or should I make notes?”

  Matt shot a startled glance at his wife, who now looked as determined to involve him in Zack’s tangled life as she’d been to keep him out of it two hours ago, then he turned and poured wine into the glasses. “I suppose this calls for some sort of toast,” he announced, passing out the wine glasses. “Unfortunately, I find myself a little speechless right now.”

  “I’m not,” Meredith said. Holding up her glass, she looked at Julie and said with a soft smile, “To every woman who loves as deeply as we do,” then she lifted her face to her husband and added quietly, “and to the two men we love.”

  Julie watched him smile at her with tenderness and unembarrassed pride, and she fell in love with both of them at that moment. They were like Zack and herself, she decided; they were love and commitment and unity. “Please say you’ll stay for dinner. I’m not much of a cook, but we may never meet again, and I’m dying to know more about . . . about everything.”

  They both nodded at once, and Matt said straightfaced, “Everything? Well, then, I guess I could start with a detailed analysis of the world financial markets. I have some fascinating insights into the probable causes of the declining world markets.” He laughed at her appalled expression and said, “Or, I guess we could talk about Zack.”

  “What a great idea,” his wife teased. “You can tell us both about your days as neighbors.”

  “Let me start dinner,” Julie said, thinking madly of what to make that wouldn’t take much of her time from the conversation.

  “No,” Meredith said, “let’s send Joe for a pizza instead.”

  “Who’s Joe?” Julie asked, already reaching for the telephone to order a pizza.

  “Officially, he’s our chauffeur. Unofficially, he’s a member of the family.”

  A half hour later, the threesome was cozily ensconced in the living room and Matt was doing his best to satisfy both women’s curiosity with a carefully censored version of his b