letcher Harcourt was released from the UCLA Medical Center ten days after his surgery. They were the longest days of Zach's life. Though his father was improving daily, Zach was becoming more and more depressed.

Whenever he was in his apartment—the place he had loved and considered his own personal retreat—it now felt empty and cold. He thought of the day he had brought Liz home with him, remembered how she had looked standing in front of the living room window, how he loved having her sleeping next to him in his king-size bed.

Every night he slept alone, aching to have her beside him. In the mornings, he looked for her as he walked into the kitchen, though he knew she couldn't possibly be there. Even in his office, he thought of her, had to forcibly make himself refrain from picking up the phone.

I'm in love with her. Desperate, crazy in love.

And he was coming to believe it was the kind of love that didn't happen to a man more than once.

As the days crept past and as his life resumed its same familiar patterns, he found himself more and more dissatisfied. The women who flirted with him in Mickey's Sports Bar after work held no appeal. He took his new sailboat, Devil May Care, out into the harbor, hoping it would help, but the warm, sunny day only made him wish he had someone to share it with, and not just anyone would do.

Even his work didn't seem as interesting as it had before.

In the days after his return to L.A., he replayed over and over all that had happened in San Pico. He thought of little Carrie Ann Whitt, dead at nine years old, thought of the man who had been murdered and buried under the house, and it occurred to him how very short life could be.

He found himself asking, Do you really want to live the years ahead alone? Before he'd met Liz, the answer would have been yes. He'd been comfortable in his aloneness.

Now he knew what he had been missing.

The thought nagged him, wouldn't leave him be.

Still, the question remained, if he pursued a different sort of life, if he made the one hundred percent commitment it would take, could he keep it?

Searching for an answer, he drove absently around the city, the black BMW eventually turning with almost a mind of its own, onto the off-ramp that would take him to his mother's apartment in Culver City.

He was halfway up the stairs to her second floor apartment when he realized he hadn't brought her a present, as was his routine. Still, he knocked on the door and surprisingly found her there.

"Zachary! Come on in!" Wearing tight black ankle-length stretch pants and a low-cut blouse, clothes that did nothing for her robust figure, she led him into the kitchen where she had a cigarette burning in the ashtray, and they both sat down at the table.

"So how's your father doing?" She frowned. "You're not here because something's happened? He's okay, isn't he?"

"Dad's doing great. He's going to be released in a couple of days."

She reached for her half-burned cigarette, dotted the ashes and took a long drag. "I wasn't all that worried. The old bird's too tough to croak." Zach had called to tell her about the surgery, then kept her posted during the recovery period.

She flicked him a speculative glance. "You didn't bring me any coffee? Not even a box of chocolates? Okay, tell your mama what's wrong."

Zach leaned back heavily in his chair. "You want to know what's wrong? I'm in love, that's what's wrong. I'm in love and it's killing me."

Teresa's black eyebrows shot up, then she laughed, a raspy, deep, cigarette smoker's rumble in her very substantial chest.

"Who's the lucky girl?" she asked. "And why aren't you happy? It's taken you years to find someone." Her dark eyes widened. "Don't tell me she doesn't love you? No woman with half a brain would—"

"I don't know if she loves me or not. I haven't asked. I'm tying to end our relationship."

"What? She cheat on you? If she did—"

"She didn't cheat. She's not that kind of girl. Liz is special. She's smart and fun to be with. She's loyal and brave. She's sexy as hell and I'm crazy about her. But I…"

"You what, Zach?"

"She's the kind of girl you marry and I don't think I can do that."

"Why not?" Teresa asked gently, reaching over to take hold of his hand. "You know, Zach, you've been a loner all your life and I've never really understood why. You get along with people. You seem to like them and they like you. But in the end, you always pull away. You were a lonely little boy, Zach. There's no reason for you to spend your whole life that way."

He glanced out the window, saw only the wall of the building next door. "Maybe not. I don't know."

"You need to ask yourself what it is you really want out of life and if the answer is that you want to be with this girl, then go for it. You're not like your father—or me, for that matter. If you give your heart to a woman, you won't betray her. That's one thing I know for sure."

A corner of his mouth edged up. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I'm your mother. I never was much of a one, but I know if you make a promise, you keep it. And I think you would make some woman a damned fine husband."

Zach looked at her hard, seeing something in her eyes he had only begun to notice. In her own strange way, Teresa loved him.

He shoved back his chair and stood up. "Sometimes you amaze me…Mother." Catching her chin, he bent and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll think about what you said."

But he didn't really have to think anymore. He'd been back in L.A. for two weeks, fourteen long, restless nights, searching for the answer that suddenly seemed so clear. He knew what he wanted, had known for sometime but was afraid to admit it.

Unfortunately, before he had come to that conclusion, he had made a miserable mess of things.

Now the question was, What the hell should he do?

* * *

The office was just about to close for the day. Elizabeth still sat working behind her desk when a phone call came through from Miguel. He sounded frantic, yet more like his old self than he'd been in some time.

"Elizabeth. It is Miguel Santiago. I am calling from the hospital. Maria…she is having the baby!"

Elizabeth grinned. "That's wonderful, Miguel! I'm just leaving work. I'll be there as quickly as I can."

"Oh, no, you do not have to come. You have done enough already. And Señora Garcia, she is here with me."

"I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can get there."

She didn't miss the relief in his voice. "Gracias. That would be very good. I know Maria will be happy to know you are coming."

She hung up the phone and grabbed her purse. Terry was on the phone when she walked up to the desk. She ended the call and looked up. "You're smiling. What's up?"

"I'm off to the County Hospital in Mason. Maria Santiago is having her baby."

Dr. James emerged from his office just then. "So the big day has finally arrived."

Elizabeth grinned, excited and wildly relieved. "Looks that way."

"I guess I owe her an apology…though I still have a tough time believing in ghosts. I'm glad you stuck with her through all of this."

"I have to say, there were times I thought I was going a little crazy myself."

"By the way, Babs and I are finally getting married. Funny thing is, after all the indecision, I'm really excited about it."

Elizabeth thought of Zach and ignored a stab of pain. "Congratulations. I guess when you finally figure out what you want, everything falls into place."

"Yes, I think it does."

Pasting a smile on her face, pushing thoughts of Zach away, Elizabeth waved a quick goodbye and dashed out the back door to her car.

The roads were a little bit busy this time of day, but she made the trip to the Mason hospital in record time. Once inside, she headed for the maternity ward and found Miguel pacing the floor of the waiting room. The man looked completely different from the last time she had seen him, his dark hair neatly trimmed, shirt and trousers spotlessly clean.

"Elizabeth! Thank you so much for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Where is she?"

"She is in the labor room."

"Aren't you going in with her?"

Miguel's dark face turned pale. "I would rather wait out here."

Elizabeth bit back a smile. In Miguel's mind, having a baby was a woman's job. It was the man's job to wait and worry.

"This is Señora Garcia," he said, introducing her to a heavyset woman sitting in one of the chairs.

"Con mucho gusto, Señora," Elizabeth said.

"It is good to meet you, too. Maria has spoken of you often." She had snow-white hair and very dark, very weathered skin. She wore a flowered housedress and serviceable brown leather shoes with the stockings rolled down around her ankles.

"How is she doing?" Elizabeth asked.

"She is a little nervous, but then this is her first."

For the next three hours, they waited, drinking cups of thick black coffee.

Then a green-gowned nurse appeared in the door of the waiting room. "Mr. Santiago?"

Miguel shot to his feet. "Sí, that is me."

A grin spread across the nurse's face. "It's a boy! You have a son, Mr. Santiago. A seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy."

Miguel let out a whoop of glee.

"Congratulations," Elizabeth said, grinning nearly as wide as the nurse.

"When can I see her?" Miguel asked.

"Give us a few minutes to get her cleaned up and I'll come get you."

By the time visitors were allowed into the room, Maria was propped up in the bed, proudly holding her bundled-up son in her arms. Everyone oohed and aahed over the tiny black-haired infant and said what a beautiful child he was—which indeed he was.

Then Maria fixed her attention on Elizabeth and her wide smile softened. "I owe my son's life to you. To you and to Mr. Zach."

"I'm glad we were able to help."

"No one believed me. No one but the two of you." Maria's dark eyes welled with tears. "My son might not be here if it hadn't been for you. I will never forget what you did for all of us."

Elizabeth reached out and caught her hand. "The important thing is that you have a fine, healthy boy."

Maria nodded and wiped at the wetness, turned back to her husband before more tears could form.

Elizabeth stayed a few minutes more, then the nurse returned and the group was asked to leave so the new mother and child could get some sleep.

As she left the hospital, Elizabeth remembered Maria's words, my son might not be here if it hadn't been for you. She thought of the evil force that dwelled inside the house and couldn't help wondering if Maria's grim words might not be true.

* * *

Zach drove up to San Pico late in the afternoon of the following day. His father had arrived back in town the week before, released into the care of Dr. Marvin, Dr. Kenner and the nursing staff at Willow Glen. According to the daily reports Zach had been receiving, Fletcher Harcourt was doing very well, but Zach wanted to see for himself the progress his father was making.

And he wanted to talk to Liz.

His stomach tightened. He'd had days to think about her, consider his future, a future he was now certain he wanted to share with the woman he loved. He wanted to marry her, have kids with her. Be a husband and father.

He wanted the family that he had never had.

He was in love with Liz, but was Liz in love with him? And even if she were, after her disastrous marriage and the way he had ignored her for the past two weeks, would she have the courage to take a chance on a guy like him?

It was early evening when he pulled the BMW into the parking lot at Willow Glen and turned off the engine. Tomorrow—if he could work up the nerve—he'd go see Liz. By then, maybe he could figure out what to say, find the words that would convince her to forgive him for running away.

At the time, it had seemed the best way.

In the old days, it would have been.

But Zach wasn't the same man he had been before. The trick was to convince Liz of that. How could he make her believe, if she agreed to marry him, she would never regret it?

Tomorrow, he told himself. A little more time was what he needed. In the meantime, he had his father to think of, and so he pushed through the front doors of Willow Glen, into the reception area, signed in with Renee, the young woman on duty at the desk, and headed down the hall.

He was amazed to see his father sitting in a wheelchair in front of the TV. He was a big man, barrel-chested and thick through the shoulders, yet before the surgery, he had seemed fragile, even frail. Now he sat up straighter in the chair, his impressive shoulders no longer slumped, his entire body appearing stronger. When he turned, Zach saw that his face was clean-shaven, his silver, once-blond hair short and neatly combed.

"Hey, Dad. It's good to see you. How are you feeling?"

His father smiled. "Pretty damn good…considering."

"I'm sorry I didn't get up here sooner."

His father shook his head. "You don't have a damned thing to apologize for. Doc Marvin says if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to have the surgery. I'm grateful, Zach. You'll never know how much."

He held out one of his hands. It looked steady, not shaky as it had before. "See that?"

"Yeah. That's great, Dad."

"I'm still pretty weak. Sometimes I get kinda dizzy. At this age, it takes a while for a guy to get back on his feet. I start physical therapy on Monday. The doc thinks in time, I'll be able to walk on my own."

Zach just nodded, fighting the lump in his throat. Dr. Marvin had told him how much progress his father had been making, though they weren't completely sure how fast the recovery would be. Fletcher had been confused off and on the first few days after surgery, but the doctor had said that was normal.

"Memory any better?" He hated to ask and it didn't really matter. As far as Zach was concerned, the operation had been a phenomenal success.

"Some better. Doc says before the operation I got the past mixed up with the present. I don't seem to do that now."

"That's good, Dad."

"Still can't remember much for the past couple of years, just flashes here and there. I don't remember the accident, but Doc says that's pretty common with such a bad head injury. He says I probably won't ever remember what happened that night."

Zach looked at his father, saw the intelligence in his gold-flecked brown eyes that had seemed so much dimmer before. "I'm glad things are going so well, Dad."

"I want to go home, Zach."

Zach frowned. He'd figured this moment would come, but not for some time yet. He didn't want the old man leaving before he was ready.

"What about your therapy? You'll need to be here for that. What does Dr. Marvin say about you leaving so soon?"

"Haven't asked him yet. I figured maybe I could hire a driver. He could take me down to therapy every day. I could get the house fixed up a little, you know—get some of that handicap stuff in the bathroom. I could hire some of those nurses who work in people's homes—just till I can get back on my feet."

It was exactly what Zach had wanted to do after the accident. He had known his father would hate being in a rest home, no matter how nice it was.

"That sounds good. I could do the legwork, get it all lined up for you, and God knows you can afford it. Carson's taken good care of the farm for you. I'm not sure how he's gonna like being tossed out of the house."

The old man frowned. For a moment his mind seemed to wander.

"What is it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Sometimes my brain's still a little muzzy. I'll give this place a little more time, but I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"I don't blame you. Have you talked to Carson about moving home? Dr. Marvin says he's been in to see you every day."

"He's been here. He says he's sorry he tried to block the surgery. Says he was just worried about the outcome."

"I'm sure he was concerned that something might happen to you."

"I haven't mentioned leaving. I figured I'd talk to you first."

Zach just nodded. Carson was going to pitch a fit.

Zach's jaw tightened. It didn't matter. Carson wasn't calling the shots the way he had been before. If Fletcher Harcourt wanted to go home, Zach was going to see that it happened—whether Carson liked it or not.

In the meantime, Zach was tired. He'd been up since 5:00 a.m., and the nerve-wracking drive through traffic up to the valley always wore him out. He wanted to get back to his room at the Holiday Inn and climb into bed.

He told himself he'd head there now, go straight to bed and try to get some badly needed sleep. But the car seemed to have a mind all its own and he found himself heading in a different direction.

* * *

Elizabeth stood at the sink in the bathroom, her face freshly scrubbed, auburn hair pulled into a ponytail on top of her head, her short blue terrycloth robe belted around her waist as she prepared herself for bed.

She almost didn't hear the doorbell ringing. Grumbling about who could be calling this late at night, she tightened the sash on the robe and headed for the door.

Her eyes widened as she peered through the peephole and recognized the man standing on the opposite side of the door. After two weeks of crying, two weeks of trying to get over him, for a moment she considered pretending she wasn't at home.

Still, she had to face him sooner or later. Ignoring the unwanted clatter of her heart, she blew out a breath, turned the deadbolt and pulled open the door.

"Hello, Liz." He looked unbelievably handsome, even with his hair a little mussed and his slacks slightly wrinkled.

"Hi." She didn't invite him in. She wasn't about to do that. He wasn't going to con her into the same routine he'd had with Lisa Doyle, sleeping with her whenever he needed a little sexual relief then heading back to a life without her. "Listen, Zach, I was just about to go to bed. Was there something you wanted?"

His gaze ran over her, searching her face, trying to read her thoughts, just as she tried to read his. "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Her fingers tightened around the doorknob. "I don't think it's a good idea. I think we both know what's going on here and I'm not about to continue where we left off. Now, if there's something you want—"

"Actually there is. It would be better if you would let me in."

She didn't want to. She didn't want to see him. She had been hurting for the past two weeks. She didn't want any more heartache and she knew if he walked through that door there would be.

"Please, Zach…"

"It's important, Liz."

She took a deep breath and stepped back from the door, pressing her hands against her robe so he wouldn't notice that they trembled. He walked past her into the living room, his legs looking longer, his shoulders broader, even more attractive than she had first thought. God, Gwen was right. She was a sucker for tall, dark and handsome.

"So what is it?" She told herself to ignore the way he kept looking at her, as if he simply could not stop.

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"Why should I? I know why you're here."

"Do you?"

"All right, fine I'll say it, then you won't have to. 'I'm sorry I left the way I did. I'd still like to see you on weekends—you know, whenever I'm in town.' The answer is I'm not interested. Now I'd like to get some sleep."

He looked at her and simply shook his head. "That's not what I came to say. I came to tell you that I love you. I want to know if you love me."

The words sent her reeling. It was the last thing she had expected him to say. "Wh-what?"

"I said I love you. The question is, do you love me?"

He loved her? He had said those words before, and once she had even believed them. But even if they were true, it hadn't kept him from leaving. What amazed her was that he didn't seem to know that she loved him.

Elizabeth felt the unwanted sting of tears. "I love you, Zach. I love you very much. It doesn't change anything."

"Maybe it does. Maybe it changes everything." He led her over to the sofa and both of them sat down. "I screwed up, leaving the way I did. I couldn't think straight. Everything just seemed so confused. To tell you the truth, I was flat-out scared. But those two weeks I was gone gave me time to figure things out."

Her heart was pounding. She could see how nervous he was, how important this was to him. Maybe he really did love her in his own way. It wasn't enough for her. Not anymore.

"Please, Zach. Don't do this to me again."

"I'm in love with you, Liz. Crazy in love. The forever kind of love. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives."

Her throat closed up. She had imagined him saying those words but never really believed it would happen. The tears she'd been holding back welled in her eyes. "Zach…"

He reached out and cupped her cheek. "You said that you loved me. What I need to know is if you love me enough to forgive me. I know I hurt you. I need to know if you love me enough to look inside my heart and know with absolute certainty that you can trust me never to hurt you again."

Her chest was aching. The tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks. Did she love him enough? She loved him so much she would die for him. But trusting him so completely…that was a far different thing.

Zach moved off the sofa, went down on one knee, caught her hand in both of his. "Marry me, Liz. If you say yes, I promise you'll never be sorry."

Elizabeth shook her head and more tears ran down her cheeks. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

A huge smile broke over her face. "Then I'll marry you. You must have thought this through or you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't ask if you had the slightest doubt. I'll marry you, Zachary Harcourt—and I promise you'll never be sorry."