Leigh made herself continue marching as the nuns had rehearsed them to do over and over on the day before. But her heart had begun singing and she couldn’t stop it. Maybe today she’d be able to reconnect with Frank, get back to the way they were that night he’d driven her home from Dr. King’s march two years ago.
She joined the two rows of black-garbed graduates on the platform. Mary Beth sat in the row ahead of Leigh, but Cherise sat opposite them among the audience. She wouldn’t graduate until next year, but she’d come to see her friends cross the stage.
The three of them had decided to take a chance and invite Frank. Over the past two years, the trio had continued to correspond with Frank, but only three or four times a year. Frank always took his time replying to their letters.
Leigh wondered if he stretched out the intervals between letters so she would believe he’d lost interest in her. Still, she’d treasured the words he blurted out that awful day she’d run away to Ivy Manor and President Kennedy had been assassinated. Frank had said, “You attract me like no other girl ever has.” But then he’d said he wouldn’t write anymore and had hung up.
In the intervening years since the last time she’d seen Frank, Leigh had begun dating on and off. Her mother had backed off, for some unexplained reason. As long as Leigh got good grades and introduced the young man to the family before going out, Leigh had her freedom. But it was a hollow victory. She’d won her liberty on November 22, 1963, but she’d lost the reason she’d wanted that independence.
The principal, Sister Maria, was peering through thick lenses, reading her welcome to the assembled friends and families. Leigh was so happy that her days at St. Agnes were ending today and that everything, anything seemed possible. Today, Leigh would find a way to let Frank know she still cared about him, but that she would never do anything that would cause him harm. Somehow it seemed very important to tell him this, to put it into words so that the awful gulf between them could be bridged. It felt like a debt she owed him.
At the end of the welcome, the organist switched to Bach’s “Ode to Joy” and Leigh felt the awesome significance of the day. Today, childhood ended and adult life began.
Now, the black-and-red-robed monsignor stepped to the front of the platform and bowed his head to give the invocation. Leigh started to lower her head, but then she decided to take the opportunity to look over the bent heads and scan the audience. Minnie and Frank were the only dark faces in the crowd except for Cherise and her mother, of course, who sat nearer the front. In dress uniform, Frank was sitting beside his grandmother Minnie. Grandma Chloe sat on Minnie’s other side. Beside Grandma Chloe, Grandpa Roarke, her parents, and then Dory sat in the row along with Grandma Sinclair—all in their Sunday best. Her mother kept frowning at Frank. But Leigh refused to let her mother spoil this, her graduation day.
The graduation ceremony took over an hour and then finally Leigh, along with the rest, rose and moved the tassels on their caps from one side to the other. The symbolic act released all Leigh’s tension. She nearly leaped into the air, but contented herself with a broad smile. Everyone applauded and the graduates marched out to the closing recessional to the reception area.
Leigh worked her way through the milling crowd of families and graduates until she reached her family. Her stepfather hugged her first. In this moment of dawning adulthood, she recognized how much she adored this laughing man who’d always loved her as his own. She hugged him back and whispered, “I love you.” He murmured the same phrase to her and then passed her to her mother.
Bette leaned forward and kissed Leigh’s cheek. “We’re so proud of you, honey.”
Leigh noticed that her mother had tears in her eyes.She hugged her mom; in that moment forgiving all the fights they’d had over the past four years.
Then each of her grandparents hugged her tight and both grandmothers cried. And Dory wrapped her small arms around Leigh’s waist and held on as if Leigh were leaving her that very day.
Finally, Leigh turned to Minnie, very aware of Frank, standing tall and handsome beside her. “Mrs. Dawson, I’m so glad you were able to come.” Then, clearing her throat, Leigh looked up at Frank. “And you, too.”
Before Leigh could say another word, Mary Beth crowded close, holding her mortarboard on with one hand. “Frank,” she squealed, “you came!” Then Cherise appeared at his elbow, smiling shyly.
Leigh introduced everyone while Frank stood back, smiling and responding to Mary Beth, who was doing her eager-puppy imitation. Then he focused on Cherise, who looked very pretty in her new royal-blue shirtwaist. Frank must have agreed because he kept studying her until Cherise’s cheeks turned a dusky pink. Leigh pushed away a trace of irritation that buzzed through her.
It seemed to Leigh that people flowed around her, cutting her off from reaching Frank, from being close enough to speak. But they wouldn’t be in the crowd much longer, and with this thought, she relaxed. At the end of the public graduation, Frank and Minnie would be coming to Leigh’s home where her mother was having an open house for friends and family. There Leigh would snatch a private word with Frank.
At last, Leigh’s family and their friends left the high school grounds and arrived at home. The caterers had everything ready in the backyard under a clear, true-blue, happy-days sky. Flowers decorated tables of finger foods, cake, and punch. Leigh finally slipped off her black graduation gown and showed off her new coral dress, whose short skirt instantly brought her mother’s disapproval. “Your skirt wasn’t that short when we bought it.”
Leigh gave her mother an innocent smile, admitting nothing. This was not the moment to thank her Grandmother Sinclair for teaching her how to put in a professional-looking hem. Instead, Leigh turned to greet longtime neighbors and accept their felicitations. Then Minnie was at her elbow.
“That Cherise seems very nice.”
Remembering all that Aunt Jerusha had said on the day JFK died—about Minnie raising Frank after his parent’s divorce, Leigh’s nerves tightened another notch. “Yes, Cherise is a good friend.” Leigh chose her words with care. “She graduates next year.”
Minnie nodded. “Frank tells me the three of you have been writing him.”
Leigh tried to analyze Minnie’s tone. She couldn’t, so she just nodded.
“I hope you have given up any thought that Frank will pursue you,” Minnie murmured under the cover of all the other voices. “Or maybe I should say, I hope you’ve given up any idea of pursuing him?”
Leigh was blindsided. She’d never expected Frank’s grandmother to bring this up. Frantically, she weighed different responses before finally saying, “Frank has made it clear that he isn’t interested in me as a girlfriend.”
Minnie searched Leigh’s face as if somehow matching her words against her intentions. “Frank is doing well in the military. I think he will go far.”
“I’m glad for him.” Leigh’s heart sped up as if she were lying.
Then Mary Beth called out, “Come on. Someone take a picture of the three of us with our soldier before we have to leave.” She claimed one of Frank’s arms. Smiling, Cherise took the other and Leigh stepped in front of Frank a little to one side. Mary Beth’s father, whose hair had begun to grow longer over the past year, clicked away with the fancy Canon that hung around his neck.
When he was done, Leigh turned and smiled at Frank. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. I hope we can have time to talk in this crowd.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to monopolize the graduate,” he sidestepped her adroitly.
Leigh tried not to be put off by the rebuff. She wanted to touch his arm, but she sensed his grandmother’s hostile stare scaring her back. Regardless, Leigh went on in a low tone, “Frank, I don’t want to put any pressure on you. 1 just want you to know that 1 still treasure our friendship—”
“As do I.” His set expression, his terse words warned her away.
It was a stern warning she found she couldn’t ignore. Frustrated, she retreated to safer ground. “So you decided to re-up?”
“Yes.” He gave her an easy smile. “Alter my promotion to first lieutenant, I decided to for another hitch. I’ll he heading to Nam soon.”
His news made her tingle with uneasiness. “Viet Nam? Oh, Frank—”
“Now, don’t worry about me,” he said dismissively. “I’ve already been through the wringer with my mother, the peacenik. I’ll just be there as an advisor.”
Leigh pursed her lips. Viet Nam seemed a very long way away. But before she could say any more, Frank had turned slightly to be introduced to Cherise’s mother. Me smiled down at Cherise, answering a question Leigh didn’t hear.
Leigh noted his special expression as he gazed down at Cherise and she froze. The expression was one of attraction and pleasure, and Cherise studied Frank with something like wonder.
Frank had come to see Leigh, but he’d come as a soldier protected by impenetrable armor. A shield to keep her from reaching him. But he’d lowered his mask for Cherise, who teased him with a nothing bunch of words, flirting effortlessly. He grinned and looked entranced.
Watching this, Leigh’s heart squeezed together, nearly making her gasp. Frank had made his decision to shut her out, and there didn’t seem to be any appeal left open to her.
With the door open to the hall, Leigh paced the floor of the small dorm room she shared with Mary Beth. Uneasy, she glanced at her wristwatch again. Mary Beth had been fixed up with a hippie or surfer from California who was visiting a guy in her psych class. Earlier, downstairs in the dormitory parlor, Leigh had glimpsed the stranger when he’d picked up her roommate. He was Mary Beth’s dream date, having shoulder-length blond hair, ragged jeans, and a tie-dyed shirt with beads around his neck. Upon seeing him, Leigh had nearly hummed, “When You Come to San Francisco, Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair.” In contrast, Mary Beth—with her long, flyaway hair, blue jeans, and love beads—had looked like it was Christmas morning again. But at least Mary Beth and her hippie had gone with a group.
A half hour ago, Leigh had gotten in early from a Saturday night party. Her date had been another in a string of guys who liked blondes. On their walk home from his frat house, when he’d tried to put the moves on her in a secluded area, she’d claimed a headache. She didn’t like being groped on the first date—or any other date. Jerk.
Now she heard giggling swelling outside her door and a rush of footsteps over the linoleum hall, the signals that curfew had come. Outside, the necking couples who’d gathered around the entrance had separated to let the girls come in before lockup, and everyone was rushing past her door to their rooms. Opening it, Leigh stood at the door, hoping to see Mary Beth. Why am I so worried?.
But she hadn’t liked something about the Californian. Now the girls on the floor all waved to her or wished her good night, and after a spate of late-night showers, the floor grew quiet and the lights in the hallways were dimmed. Still no Mary Beth.
Leigh realized she needed to shut the door to the hall before the resident assistant on the floor noticed that Mary Beth hadn’t returned. Mary Beth had been fine as a freshman, working hard not to flunk out. But now, a month into her sophomore year, she’d already gotten two demerits for staying out after curfew and a third could mean social probation. And their RA didn’t like Mary Beth.
With the lights switched off, Leigh paced the tiny patch of linoleum in their room, trying not to make a sound. The glow-in-the-dark clock on the desk stated the time as well after midnight. Just as Leigh was about to give up and dress for bed, she heard muffled giggling outside their first-story window. She looked out and there was Mary Beth and the blond Californian. Leigh opened the window and leaned out. “Mary Beth,” she hissed, “what are you doing? It’s after curfew.”
The Californian gave Leigh the peace sign and then in a sort of wobble, motioned to Mary Beth. He cupped his hands together and Mary Beth, still giggling softly, put her foot in them and let him hoist her up to the window. Shocked, and terrified of their being seen from a window of the neighboring dorm, Leigh hauled the giggle princess into the room. Mary Beth’s weight almost took Leigh to the floor, but she stayed on her feet long enough to shove Mary Beth onto her nearby twin bed. Then she shut the window and turned, ready to read Mary Beth the riot act.
“I don’t feel very good,” Mary Beth moaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Leigh shoved the wastebasket under her roommate’s chin just in time. She held Mary Beth’s head there until the fit of retching passed. A sour, sick odor competed with Mary Beth’s alcohol breath. “How much did you drink?” Leigh snapped.
“Not much,” Mary Beth mumbled, then she giggled. “Chance had weed.”
Leigh nearly shook Mary Beth, but didn’t want her to start throwing up again. “Are you insane?” she hissed next to Mary Beth’s ear. “Drugs on campus? Do you want to get expelled?”
“Aw, lighten up. What’s a little weed between friends?”
Nothing, just a felony and expulsion. “You don’t have any on you, do you?”
Mary Beth looked at her as if this were an unknown collection of words.
“If you have any on you, give it to me. We’ve got to throw it out the window. What if they do a bed check?”
Mary Beth shook her head. “Didn’t bring any—”
Light streamed in around the door to the hall. “Bed check!” the resident assistant announced in a loud voice. Their door flew open first. Leigh glared at the RA. “We’re here. What’s your problem?”
“She better not have brought any alcohol—” the RA began.
“I’m clean,” Mary Beth crowed. “Just a little happy.” And then she began humming the Beatles, “Love, Love Me Do.”
The RA looked Mary Beth over and then shook her head. “You’re going to end up flunking out if this doesn’t stop.”
“Peace.” Mary Beth held up her hand in the two-fingered peace sign. And then passed out on the bed.
Leigh wanted to shake Mary Beth until her teeth rattled out onto the floor. Mary Beth had begun by going to drinking bashes at the different frat houses. And now a hippie and marijuana… She had to find a way to turn Mary
Beth around. Otherwise, where would it all end?
Outside Leigh’s hotel, the Conrad Hilton, police sirens sounded in the distance, releasing another spurt of adrenaline in Leigh. Where was Mary Beth? Was she safe? Her friend had promised to steer clear of trouble this week, but so many opportunities presented themselves. And she’d already been picked up by the Chicago police once. Leigh stared down from the high window of the room she shared with other girls attending the convention. Mary Beth had chosen instead to camp out in Grant Park with Chance, her hippie boyfriend from California. Fretting, Leigh stared down at the yellow police barricades below near the hotel entrance, and at the line of helmeted, blue-uniformed cops along it. From the transistor radio, Martha and the Vandellas sang “Nowhere to Run, Baby…”
The sense of a world spinning out of control, of a beast waiting to be unleashed, ate at Leigh’s peace. And why not? The International Amphitheatre where the Democratic Convention was being held was surrounded by steel-wire fences and ugly yellow barricades and armed riot police. How crazy did the world have to become? When had it grown dangerous to be a politician, dangerous to be near politicians?
But of course, it had all started with the assassination of President Kennedy five years ago. That thought took her mind back to that dark day. Another unhappy thought. Frank was in Viet Nam for his second tour of duty, and thousands of U.S. soldiers were dying there. At home, the Viet Nam War had ignited a blaze of nationwide protest and forced LBJ not to run again.
She rubbed her tight neck muscles and turned to get ready for this evening. Mary Beth, please come now. Please.
Leigh had come to Chicago in the entourage of the Maryland delegation. It had been set up through her college and with her grandmother’s influence. Leigh hadn’t taken much interest in her great-grandfather before, but evidently he had been a politician. And Grandma Chloe still knew people in the Democratic Party, people who could arrange for her granddaughter to have a plum job at a convention.
Both Leigh and Mary Beth had come to write articles about the convention experience for college papers. But where was her friend? Mary Beth was supposed to be here to go to this evening’s session with Leigh, who’d finally gotten her a visitor’s pass.
Leigh glanced at her watch. She couldn’t wait any longer for Mary Beth or she’d miss this evening’s limo to the Amphitheatre. In front of the closet door mirror, she glanced at herself. She wore a shades-of-pink paisley miniskirt and matching vest over a pink blouse with a large ruffled collar. She adjusted her pantyhose. Then she refreshed her pale-pink lipstick and combed her waist-length blonde hair, swinging around to catch the ends and comb them, too.
Tonight, the delegates would cast their votes and all the excitement, craziness should end. “Please hurry, Mary Beth. It’s dangerous out there.”
Leigh tried not to worry, but 1968 had been a year for worrying. The Tet Offensive at the end of January had heated up the Viet Nam War, sending two hundred thousand U.S. troops there. Then in April, Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated in Memphis. Race riots had burst cities all over America into flames and funerals. Then at the end of March, LBJ had dropped out of the race for a second term. Finally, in June, Robert Kennedy had been killed in California while campaigning for president, and another rage had boiled over into the streets.
From the transistor radio came Simon and Garfunkel singing, “Feelin’ Groovy.” Leigh did not feel groovy. She switched off the radio.
“What a bloody year,” Leigh murmured to the universe. Each disaster had hit her as another wave of hopelessness. Soldiers were dying in a war the generals had bungled and misrepresented even to the powers that be. The world had careened off its axis. But all her mother wanted from her was good grades and to know whether Leigh was dating anyone “nice.”
Leigh glanced at her watch again. “Mary Beth, I can’t wait any longer,” she said aloud in disgust. She headed down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the concrete stairwell. She walked out the entrance into the sunshine and looked around for the limo, for Mary Beth, for others in the Maryland delegation. A nearby crowd of demonstrators with long hair, bare feet, and homemade signs was yelling but that wasn’t new. Chicago might have been “the city of big shoulders” to Sandburg, but it was the city of loud mouths to Leigh.
Bottles and toilet paper were raining down from the Hilton. She caught the yippie chant, “Hey, Hey, Go Away!” The worry that Mary Beth might be out there among the protestors again pinched Leigh. She shaded her eyes with her hand. But what can I do about that?
The long black limo was farther away than usual—too near the line of police for comfort. Leigh hurried forward, waving to the driver.
Then there were screams, shrieking police whistles, people running toward Grant Park, toward the Hilton. Blue- uniformed police chased the fleeing demonstrators—billy clubs flailing. Leigh felt, but couldn’t hear herself screaming. Just yards ahead, a policeman was clubbing a hippie sprawled on the pavement already bleeding. In a sickening moment of terror Leigh recognized the man on the ground—it was Mary Beth’s boyfriend, Chance. Horrified, Leigh ran—full tilt—toward the cop. “Stop! Stop it!” He’s down! Leave him alone!
The policeman turned on her and swung his billy club wide. Leigh ducked and charged under his arm, butting into his chest. The two of them went down and landed on top of Chance. People surged forward, tripping over them, cursing, yelling. Leigh felt her skirt rip at the waistband. The policeman pushed her away and rolled to his feet. He kicked her in the side and then ran back into the fray.
Pressing her arm against the pain in her side where she’d been kicked, Leigh rolled off Chance. “Are you okay?” Panting, she bent over him, trying to protect his head as people jostled over and around them.
He moaned as she mopped the blood that leaked from a gash on his forehead with the tail of her blouse. Blood also flowed into his long blond hair—and more from his nose.
Quiet came suddenly. Leigh stood and helped him up. Numbed by the bedlam she’d just witnessed, she looked around for assistance and located a yippie aid station on the north side of the street. She staggered there, hauling him with her.
“The revolution has started,” was the exultant greeting she got there. For a moment, a scene from Dr. Zhivago flashed in her mind—a wintry street in Moscow, the red-coated Cossacks riding down a silent march of poor people. And for a moment, the unreality of being attacked on an American street by a policeman surged through her, weakening her knees. She slumped down on the curb, shaking with the residual terror of what she’d just seen, just been caught up in. But around her—obviously exhilarated—the protestors exclaimed, “Power to the people!”
“Hey, you’re my old lady’s friend,” Chance said, eyeing her from under the new bandage over his eye.
“Where is Mary Beth?” Leigh asked.
Before he could answer, out of nowhere—the next wave launched. Bottles flew over their heads. Trash barrels rolled and careened toward the re formed line of police and National Guard. And the sound of booted feet and chanting swelled all around. Voices shouted, “ Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”Tear-gas grenades exploded.
Chance dragged Leigh off the curb and behind the shelter of a large blue mailbox. She huddled with him behind it, watching several policemen pick up a yellow traffic barricade that had been pushed over. The police, using it as a battering ram, charged the crowd in front of them. More screaming, cursing. Blood spattered on the street.
Leigh gagged with the shock and horror. Choking on the tear gas, she clung to Chance’s T-shirt, trying to make herself the smallest target possible. She wanted to scream, “Stop it! Stop it!” But she shrank down farther. Chaos raged all around them. Who would hear her, obey her?
Another chant started, loud and strident. “The whole world is watching! The whole world is watching!” Then Leigh glimpsed Mary Beth in the crowd. A cop had her by the hair. “Mary Beth!” Leigh screamed, rising.
First Chance, then Leigh leaped from the shelter and plunged into the fray, trying to reach Mary Beth. A policeman knocked Chance to the ground. Leigh screamed at the cop. Then he swung his billy club.
Leigh saw it coming, felt it, heard it crack against her head. Stars burst before her eyes and she felt herself falling, falling into darkness.
She opened her eyes and blinked. Her eyes were full of sleep-dust and stung from something. At first, she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Her fuzzy mind groped for information. Where am I?She moaned and the sound rolled through her throat and mouth, sounding loud and fuzzy in her ears. She felt around with her hands. She was lying on cool concrete and people were nearby, talking and laughing. Laughing?
Slowly she sat up. Looking around, blinking in the stark light, blinking to rid herself of the sandy feeling in her eyes, she was met by a motley circle of amused faces—black, white, and tan. Some were hippies; the rest looked like prostitutes or street people, junkies.
“Cinderella finally woke up,” said a long, lean black woman with very red lipstick. She wore a tiny red miniskirt.
A younger woman, a hippie, came to Leigh and helped her up onto a bench. “We’re in a holding cell. I was afraid when you didn’t wake up. They should have taken you to an emergency room. You’ve got a nasty bump on your head.”
That wasn’t surprising news. Leigh felt nauseated and her head pounded. “Why am I here?” she mumbled.
“You got in the way of a billy club,” the woman with the red lipstick answered with a smirk. “You college girls don’t know when to duck.”
“What time is it?” Leigh asked. She’d lost her wristwatch somewhere.
“We don’t know,” the hippie said. “They come and get us one at a time. But we can’t call anyone because of the phone strike.” The girl cursed AT&T, Mayor Daley, and the whole city of Chicago from top to bottom. The other women chuckled with appreciation.
Footsteps. A burly cop appeared and barked, “Leigh Sinclair.”
Leigh held up her hand a few inches.
“Come on.” He unlocked the cell and waved at her. “Come on, come on, girlie. I ain’t got all night.”
Leigh looked around uncertainly but finally limped to the door. She looked down and noticed she’d lost the heel to her right pump. She followed him, swaying slightly as he led her down corridor after corridor. Her head pounded with what must be a migraine.
Finally, the cop opened a door and said, “In here. Wait.”
She staggered into a small room and just made it into a chair. She’d never felt so weak, battered, nauseated.
The door opened and a familiar face came in. Her splitting headache and vague disorientation slowed her recognition, but then she placed him. The man was Dane Hanley, an FBI agent, a friend of her stepfather’s. His thick dark hair looked a bit too long to please the FBI and his too-serious dark brown eyes bore into her. The white of his shirt contrasted with his tanned neck and face. He looked like a man from a Marlboro ad who’d been forced off his horse and into a suit.
For the first time in hours, she felt safe. Dane would protect her. And she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Without a word, he handed over a small, tan shoulder bag that the police must have taken from her.
She recalled then that this was her second trip to a Chicago police station and her memory of yesterday returned. She’d met Dane yesterday when he’d come to help her bail out Mary Beth. In another ancient-looking police station, she’d stuck close to the protection of Dane’s side, searching for Mary Beth’s face among the hippies lining the walls and sitting on chairs and the floor. Dane had shown his FBI badge and ushered Leigh with him down several poorly lit, cramped corridors. Finally, a door was opened and Mary Beth had leaped into Leigh’s arms—laughing—as if being picked up by the police were a joke.
Now, Leigh recalled seeing her friend tonight in the second wave of trouble. She squinted up at Dane and murmured, “Mary Beth.”
“What?”
She cleared her raw throat. “Is Mary Beth here?”
“No. Come on,” Dane said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m not steady on my feet.” She put a hand to her brow. “My head… pounding.” Then she burst into hot, embarrassing tears.
Dane put an arm around her and helped her up and out the door, his strength a balm for her frazzled nerves. “You’re bruised over one eye. I’m taking you straight to the emergency room.”
Soon she was aware that they were riding in the back of an air-conditioned taxi through the city and then she was in a wheelchair being pushed into a hospital—swarming, buzzing with yippies, hippies, doctors, cops, and nurses. In a daze, she tried to find Mary Beth’s face. Then the motion of being pushed along made her sicker and she felt herself sliding down… The soft darkness took her again, blotting out everything.
Leigh opened her eyes. The effort was almost too much for her. Pain seared her consciousness, stunning her once again. She heard a moan and realized it was hers.
“Is she coming around?” a man asked.
Lost in a clammy gray mist, Leigh tried to bring up words, but couldn’t get them to her tongue. Where am If
Sirens blared in the distance. That brought back the recent past, the terror of being attacked. Her nose and eyes still burned. Tear gas. Her head still throbbed. A name came to mind then, “Mary Beth.”
Someone took her wrist. “Are you coming around, Miss Sinclair?” a woman asked her.
“Mary Beth,” Leigh managed to whisper, “Get her. She’s…”
“Mary Beth?” the man’s voice came again. “Your friend that we bailed out yesterday?”
Leigh nodded, and the slight motion set off an atom bomb in her head; pain vibrated through her, bringing nausea. She gagged and dry-heaved. “Cop… got her.”
“I’ll see if she’s been admitted or arrested.”
Leigh recognized it now. She realized it was Dane’s voice. She couldn’t reply, but her mind brought up, like a newsreel, another memory for her. Mary Beth. Yesterday. Near the Picasso at the Chicago Civic Center Plaza, a crowd of yippies with a large pig—their candidate for president. Police with twisted faces crowded close. Hippies jeered them. After that, she’d met Dane. He’d come to the hotel to help her get Mary Beth out of jail.
Leigh opened her eyes and she tried to get herself to think normally. “Dane,” she whispered.
Now, in the lowering light of dusk, a white-coated doctor came in. “Conscious, I see.” After his cursory examination, she was headed to X-ray to make sure she didn’t have a hairline fracture of the skull. As they rolled her away from Dane, she tried to say, “Don’t leave me,” but she couldn’t form the words. Desperate, she reached for his hand.
He squeezed her shoulder and said, “I’ll be here. I won’t leave you.”
And she sighed with relief.
She woke up in a bed and again smelled the distinctive odor of “American hospital.” In the dim room, light seeped over a tall white curtain that cut off her view of the other half of the room. A man with dark hair and broad shoulders sat in a chair by her bed—Dane, true to his word. “Hi,” she whispered, glad to see his face.
Dane moved forward, and the light flowed over his hawklike features. Beams of light from above moved over him, and away; they must have been headlights, not moonlight. She gazed at his harsh but handsome face, trying to remember… something.
“Leigh, you have a concussion,” he informed her. “But otherwise you’re okay.”
“Obviously… ,” she joked weakly, “my headache… didn’t show up on the X-ray. It’s colossal.”
“Sorry.” He touched her shoulder. “Want a pain pill?”
She closed and then opened her eyes, drawing strength from his calm presence. “Yes. It’s awful.”
Not letting go of Leigh’s shoulder, he buzzed for the nurse. She appeared and gave Leigh a pill and a glass of water, and then left without a superfluous word.
Dane watched Leigh as if expecting some unwise action from her and ready to stop her.
“Don’t worry.” She tried to be wry. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, that’s not quite true. You’ll be going home this afternoon with me.”
“Home? With you?” That didn’t make sense.
Headlights came again, casting shadows on his face, his high cheekbones. “No, I’m taking you home to your parents.”
“But my reservation is for Saturday,” she objected with as much heat as she could muster. “I wanted to do some sightseeing after the convention. The Art Institute—”
“Sorry.” He gave her a wry grin. “When you get yourself on TV being clubbed by a cop, you lose your sightseeing rights.”
His ironic comment couldn’t be true. “TV? Me?”
He nodded soberly. “Your parents saw you.”
“Oh, no.” Distress welled up inside her—a geyser. Her mother, who hadn’t wanted her to come, would be fit to be tied.
“Your parents were going to fly here, but I persuaded them that the best idea is my getting you out of this crazy city.”
“Thanks,” she said in warm relief. She didn’t want to think how embarrassing it would have been having her parents fly in to take her by the hand and lead her home. “They still think I’m a baby.”
Dane shrugged. “Well, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one,” Leigh defended herself.
“Then you are a baby.”
She made a face at him and her head twinged with pain. “I missed the nomination tonight,” she said, going through her mind, trying to bring everything back into focus.
“Hubert Horatio Humphrey got the nomination after all—even without your being there,” he said dryly.
She grimaced, but with only half her face. She closed her eyes. She wasn’t up to repartee. And besides, everything that had happened here was awful.
“What? Didn’t Humphrey have your support?”
“Stop teasing. What does my opinion matter? I was just a hanger-on with the Maryland delegation. Tonight has been a total disaster.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. At least we got to tour an other historic Chicago police station, another venerable dump.”
She ignored this, worrying her lower lip. “Where’s Mary Beth?” She opened her eyes, peering at him through her veil of pain.
His face drew down. “So far we haven’t found her. I’ve got the local police and FBI on the lookout for her.”
She relived seeing that cop dragging her friend by the hair. No. She’s okay. She has to be. “Then I’m not going home. I can’t leave without Mary Beth.”