Free The Promise by Danielle Steel Page A

walked. Blindly and alone, in a direction his feet seemed to know, but his head didn't. His head didn't know anything anymore. It felt like mush. His whole body felt like mush, but his heart was a stone. Suddenly, in that stinking old store, his life had come to an end He understood now what it all meant, and as he stood at a red light, waiting for it to change, not giving a damn if it did, he passed out.
    He woke up a few moments later, with a crowd around him as he lay on a small patch of grass where someone had carried him. There was a policeman standing over him, looking sharply into his eyes.
    “You okay, son?” He was certain the kid was neither drunk nor stoned, but he looked a terrible gray color. More likely he was sick. Or maybe just hungry or something. Looked like he had money though, couldn't have been a case of starvation.
    “Yeah. I'm okay. I got out of the hospital this morning, and I guess I overdid it.” He smiled ruefully, but the faces around him did cartwheels when he tried to get up. The cop saw what was happening and urged the crowd to disperse. Then he looked back at Michael.
    “I'll get a patrol car to give you a lift home.”
    “No, really, I'm okay.”
    “Never mind that. Would you rather go back to the hospital?”
    “Hell, no!”
    “All right, then we'll take you home.” He spoke into a small walkie-talkie and then squatted down near Michael. “They'll be here in a minute. Been sick for a long time?”
    Michael shook his head silently, and then looked down at his hands. “Two weeks.” There was still a narrow scar near his temple, but too small for the policeman to notice.
    “Well, you take it easy.” The patrol car slid up alongside them, and the policeman gave Michael a hand up. He was all right now. Pale, but steadier than he had been at first.
    Michael looked over his shoulder and tried to smile at the cop. “Thanks.” But the attempted smile only made the cop wonder what was wrong. There was a kind of despair in the kid's eyes.
    He gave the men in the patrol car an address a block from the hotel, and thanked them when he got out. And then he walked the last block. The suite was still empty when he got there, and for a moment he thought about taking off his clothes and going back to bed, but there was no point in playing that game anymore. He had done what he'd wanted to do. It had gotten him nowhere, but at least he'd gone through with it. What he'd been looking for was Nancy. He should have known that he wouldn't find her there, or anywhere else. He would only find her in the one place she still lived, in his heart.
    The door to the suite opened as he stood looking out the window, and for a moment he didn't turn around. He didn't really want to see them, or hear about the meeting, or have to pretend that he was all right. He wasn't all right. And maybe he never would be again.
    “What are you doing up, Michael?” His mother made it sound as though be were going to be seven in a few days, instead of twenty-five. He turned around slowly and said nothing at first, and then tiredly he smiled at George.
    “It's time for me to get up, Mother. I can't stay in bed forever. In fact, I'm going to New York tonight.”
    “You're what?”
    “Going to New York.”
    “But why? You wanted to stay here.” She looked totally confused.
    “You had your meeting.” And I had mine. “We have no reason to hang around here anymore. And I want to be in the office tomorrow. Right, George?”
    George looked at him nervously, frightened by the pain and grief he saw in the boy's eyes. Maybe it would do him good to get busy. He didn't look terribly strong yet, but lying about bad to be difficult for him. It gave him too much time to think. “You might be right, Michael. And you can always work half days at first.”
    “I think you're both crazy. He just got out of the hospital this morning.”
    “And you, of course, are famous for taking such good care of yourself. Right, Mother?” He cocked