The Promise by Danielle Steel Page B

ways many people never had to. But beneath the surface, she was still a very young girl.
    “You know, I do want you to be aware of one thing though, Nancy.” She sounded more serious now.
    “And what's that?”
    “I think you should understand why you're so willing to try out a new you. It's not unusual for orphans, as you were, to feel unsure of their identities. You're not certain what your parents were like, and as a result, you feel as though a piece of you is missing, a link to reality. So it's a lot easier for you to give up parts of the person you once were than it would be for someone who retained very dear images of her parents—and all the responsibilities that entails. In some ways it may make things simpler for you.”
    Nancy was silent, and Faye smiled at her as she sank back into the cozy chair near the fire. It was a wonderful room to see patients in: it set everyone instantly at ease. She had put her grandmother's Persian carpets to good use in the room, which also boasted splendid paneling and old brass sconces. The fireplace was also trimmed in brass, the curtains were old and lacy, there were walls of books, tiny paintings tucked away in unexpected corners, and everywhere was a profusion of leafy ferns. It looked like the home of an interesting woman, and that was exactly the effect Faye wanted. “Okay, it's take you some time to think about that. For the moment, there's another serious subject we have to get into. What about the holidays?”
    “What about them?” Nancy's eyes closed like two doors, and the laughter of moments before was now completely gone. Faye had known it would be this way, which was why the subject had to be broached.
    “How do you feel about the holidays? Are you scared?”
    “No.” Nancy's face was immobile, as Faye watched.
    “Sad?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, no more guessing games, Nancy. Suppose you tell me. What do you feel?”
    “You want to know what I feel?” Nancy suddenly looked straight back at her, dead in the eye. “You want to know?” She stood up and strode across the room and then back again. “I feel pissed.”
    “Pissed?”
    “Very pissed. Superpissed. Royally pissed.”
    “At whom?”
    Nancy sank into the chair again and looked into the fire. This time when she spoke her voice was soft and sad. “At Michael. I thought he'd have found me by now. It's been over seven months. I thought he'd have been here.” She closed her eyes to keep back the tears.
    “Who else are you mad at? Yourself?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “For making the deal with Marion Hillyard in the first place. I hate her guts, but I hate mine worse. I sold out.”
    “Did you?”
    “I think so. And all for a new chin.” She spoke with contempt where moments before there had been pride. But they were delving deeper now.
    “I don't agree with you, Nancy. You didn't do it for a new chin. You did it for a new life. Is that so wrong at your age? What would you think of someone else who did the same thing?”
    “I don't know. Maybe I'd think they were stupid. Maybe I'd understand.”
    “You know, a few minutes ago we were talking about a new life. New voice, new walk, new face, new name. Everything is new, except one thing.” Nancy waited, not wanting to hear her say it. “Michael. What about thinking of a new life without him? Do you ever think about that?”
    “No.” But her eyes filled with tears, and they both knew she was lying.
    “Never?”
    “I never think of other men. But sometimes I think about not having Michael.”
    “And how do you feel?”
    “Like I wish I were dead.” But she didn't really mean that, and they both knew it.
    “But you don't have Michael now. And it's not so bad, is it?” Nancy only shrugged in answer, and then Faye spoke again, her voice infinitely soft “Maybe you need to do some real thinking about all that, Nancy.”
    “You don't think he's coming back to me, do you?” She was angry again. This time at Faye, because there was no one