"My family wouldn't let me," I explained. He shook his head, gravely.

My baby was born that night. I was very ill. I never met Granger until three days later. When he entered the room Mary Parker said, "Honey, this is my brother, Granger Macy."

A film of rain was graying the lovely oval windowpane when Granger drew a chair close to the bed. "I'm your friend," he assured.

I tried to nod weakly.

I stared into his ruddy face. His eyes were wide and gray. His jaws were strong and his mouth gentle. He ran his hand through his dark hair which was highlighted by a streak of gray where he parted it. The faint scent of his after shaving lotion reminded me of the meadow-like freshness of the cologne Jan had used. My heart twisted.

"Melba," Granger said gently.

I jumped, startled that he knew my name.

"Don't be alarmed," he soothed. "Dr. Proctor told me who you are.

9.9

Tears welled into my eyes, but before they could spill over my lashes, Granger assured,

"I've talked with your mother. She has agreed you may stay here for a while. Mary and I will look after you."

"Where-where-is-my-baby?" I stammered. "You've been very ill," Granger said. "You'll soon be well though. And—'

"My baby?" I repeated, straining my ears for the sound of a baby crying in some other room. I heard nothing but the gentle patter of rain on the windowsill. "Where is my baby?"

Granger leaned over, his steady hand closed gently over my trembling one.

He said, "Your baby was born dead."

Tears spilled, and I sobbed. A part of me had lived

and died and I had never even seen it. .I was bewildered.

Granger explained that the baby had already been buried. My Mother had taken charge of that. He suggested that I go on, now, as if I'd never been preg nant. As if I'd had a nightmare and just awakened.

"I'm not married," I said, wanting to be honest.

He nodded. Then he stood. His medium-height, well proportioned body seemed gigantic seen from where I lay in bed. His immaculate, blue, open-throated shirt and gray trousers appeared to blend in the misty halflight.

"It's all right, Melba. Try to sleep." He smiled at me, kindly, then turned and left the room.

I couldn't remember my father. But Granger Macy, a stranger, was more fatherly to me than any man had ever been. Yes, I closed my eyes and slept.

The next time I saw Granger I blurted,

"Mr. Macy, I wasn't in love with my baby's father. I-I was raped."

"I know. You talked about that while you were unconscious."

"I did?" "Yes, Melba."

"Do do you know who my baby's father is?" Fear sickened me as I waited for Granger's reply.

"No, I don't. Do you want to tell me?"

"No! No!" I cried out. "I never want to tell anyone. "Then I'll never ask to know," he said kindly. And suddenly my fear was gone.

Finally, when I had regained my strength, Mother had me brought home. I learned that Bob had gone to Texas.

Mother encouraged me to see Granger often. We became good friends. He had a small business in Colorado which he was able to run mainly by remote control. This enabled him to live here in California where