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second month in analysis that she fell madly in love with Dr. Shea. She’d begun dressing with care for their sessions, trying desperately to make him notice her as a woman, to love her back. She’d been totally out of control, buoyed by her fantasies, soaring to exquisite heights one minute, plummeting into black depths of despair and self-hatred the next. It was a bad time for her. The worst.
    It couldn’t have been too great for Dr. Shea, either, she thought, flushing a little, remembering. Especially when she began making those middle of the night calls to his house when she couldn’t get to sleep for thinking of him. Not once did he make her feel a fool for her feelings. His voice ever calm and caring, he would explain again and again about transference and dependency, until gradually she was able to put their relationship into perspective. Dr. Shea was a good man. He was moody was all.
    Funny, though he’d often told her to call him Jonathan, she could never quite bring herself to. Calling him by his first name—well, that would be showing a lack of respect. She heard herself on the telephone to him, saying, “I love you, Dr. Shea,” and smiled to herself. It was really quite funny when you thought about it.
     

 
    Chapter 5
    The woman’s voice seemed to come from far off, faintly, as though carried on ocean waves.
    Once Todd had telephoned her from Vietnam, and his voice over the telephone lines had sounded like that.
    “Katherine Summers—Miss Summers? Wake up now. The doctor is here to see you.”
    Someone calling out to Aunt Katherine. But Aunt Katherine is dead. The voice grew louder, insistent, grating along Katie’s nerves, making her aware of the throbbing pain in her head. She longed to tell whoever it was to go away, but the effort to speak was too great.
    “Miss Summers. Open your eyes. That’s a good girl.”
      “No, go away,” Katie managed through parched, swollen lips, aggravated at the bright cheerfulness of the woman’s voice. It seemed like mockery when Katie felt so horrible. Why didn’t she just let her alone? Let her sleep.
    Katie tried to open her eyes. They felt as if there were weights attached to them. Through slitted eyes, she could make out the blurred white forms bending over her. The figures wavered, like pale ghosts, seeming to have no substance. Gradually, they drew into focus, then more sharply, as did the stark white walls. The smell of anesthetic was so strong in her nostrils she could almost taste it.
    “My head hurts,” she whispered.
    “I’m not surprised,” the doctor said, bending over her, peering into each of her eyes with a tiny light. His tanned scalp showed through thinning gray hair. “You have a nasty concussion. But we can give you something for the pain.”
    Straightening, he smiled at her. He looked pleased with himself for some reason. “I’m Dr. Miller, by the way. This is Nurse Ring.”
    “Ring if you need anything,” she sang, and Katie groaned.
    Dr. Miller laughed. “You must be on the mend, my dear, if you can recognize a warped sense of humor.”
    “Really, Doctor,” the nurse said in mock indignation.
    “But even if she doesn’t make it to The Tonight Show, ” he went on, “she’s an excellent nurse. You’re in good hands.”
    Looking into the two pairs of eyes that were watching her intently for a response, Katie understood that the lighthearted act was meant to reassure her, to keep her from feeling afraid. She wished she could feel more appreciative. She wished she could feel anything other than this sick, throbbing pain in her head.
    “Could you tell us your name, where you live, that sort of thing?” the doctor asked. “Routine, but necessary, I’m afraid.”
    Her voice, when she spoke, came out weak and raspy. She felt as if she were trying it out for the first time.
    “My name is—Katherine Summers.” Of course. They hadn’t been calling to her aunt at all, but to her. It was just that no one had called her