All Night Long

fireworks.”
    John moved his hand in a let’s-change-the-subject motion. “I assume you were sent in here to fetch me?”
    “Afraid so.” Gordon grinned and rocked on his heels. “The big cake event will commence in fifteen minutes. You’ve got a few billion candles to blow out, and then you get to take Vicki onto the danc loor for the annual birthday waltz.”
    John groaned. “I hate the candle part.”
    Gordon chuckled. “Tradition must be honored. Don’t worry, I made sure that there’ll be a fire extinguisher nearby.”
    Luke decided to seize his opportunity. He started toward the door. “I’d better go find my date.”

    “Last I saw of Miss Stenson, she was outside on the terrace talking to Vicki,”
    Gordon offered helpfully.
    “Just the scenario I was hoping to avoid,” Luke said.
    John scowled. “You can’t blame Vicki for being curious about her.”
    “Your dad’s right,” Gordon said. Some of his cheerful, bantering air evaporated.
    Concern took its place. “From what Jason told us about Miss Stenson this evening, she sounds a little unusual, to say the least.”
    Luke nodded. “Works for me.”
    He opened the door and let himself out of the room.
    Gordon watched guilt and a father’s fear coalesce on the face of his old friend. The signs and indications were subtle: the white brackets at the edge of his mouth, the way he gripped the wineglass. Most people would not have noticed. But he and John had known each other for a very long time.
    He picked up the bottle, crossed the room and refilled John’s glass.
    “Take it easy,” he said quietly.
    “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” John swallowed more wine and lowered the glass. “Luke’s in serious trouble. It was bad enough that he fell apart after he and Katy ended their engagement. But now he’s involved with a woman who may be in worse shape than he is.”
    “Maybe you should back off and give him some time and space, John.”
    John raised stark eyes to look at him. “If I give him too much time and space, I may lose him. Va yke says this PTSD thing is unpredictable. There’s no telling what might happen if I don’t get hi nto treatment.”
    Gordon put his hand on John’s shoulder. “This is about Sarah, isn’t it?”
    “Hell, yes, it’s about Sarah.” John shoved himself up out of his chair and started to pace the room.
    “He’s her son. Van Dyke says that a tendency toward depression and self-destructive behavior ca ave a strong genetic component. Add to that the trauma of combat and what happened to him the weekend he and Katy went away together, and you’ve got a very dangerous mix.”
    “He’s your son, too, and he’s got your genes. He’s not a carbon copy of Sarah.”
    “I know that.” John shoved his hands through his hair. “But I can’t take the risk of hoping that he’l ull out of this on his own. Van Dyke says he may be a ticking bomb.”
    “I know this is hard on you, John. It’s hard on me, too. I’ve known Luke since he was born. You think I’m not worried about him? But he’s a grown man, not a boy.
    You can advise, but you can’t force hi o seek counseling.”
    “What am I supposed to do?” John stopped in front of the hearth. “Pretend that he’s going to get bette n his own? Ignore all the signs the way I did with his mother?”
    “You did not ignore Sarah. She was clinically depressed. You are not responsible for the fact that she took her own life.”
    “Maybe not.” John turned around very slowly. “But I don’t think I could live with myself if Luke did something like that.”
    “Luke has always gone his own way. And he can be extremely stubborn.” He smiled wearily. “Lik said, he’s your son, John.”
    “I talked to Van Dyke again this afternoon.” John’s face went stony with renewed resolve. “I told he hat Luke would be in town tonight and tomorrow morning. She said there was one more thing we could try. But she needs the cooperation of everyone in the family.
    That includes you.”
    “I’m not sure this is a good idea, whatever it is. But you’re my friend. You know damn well you don’t have to ask me twice to help you.”

Twenty-Nine

    Vicki Danner was a stylish woman with an assured, self-confident manner. Her patrician feature howed the long-term benefits of regular professional facials. Of course, Irene thought, the good bones didn’t hurt. Dressed in a classic gray sheath, diamonds glittering in her ears and around her throat, sh as