“Now you’ve got me shaking.” Mitch rapped his knuckles once on the high Formica counter and stuck his hands in his pockets again as he strode toward room 209.

Flirting, he was discovering, was like riding a bike. One never forgot how to do it. Between adults, the innuendos were a little more sophisticated than between teenagers, but it was basically the same. A hint at forbidden pleasures, a little verbal rush, a slight retreat, the smallest hint of physical contact… Actually, flirting was really a vastly underrated cure for low blood pressure.

Low blood pressure had never been his problem. It was the condition of his heart valves that had prevented him from having a normal life for the past thirteen years. But that was all behind him now.

His life was at a crossroads. He suddenly had to make decisions-about his lifestyle, his career-he’d never thought he’d have the chance. The choices were awesome. Already, he’d had six months of life. It had taken him almost that long to get used to just having the commodity.

These Saturday mornings at Branson’s were a reminder of the riches, and in some ways a relief from those decisions most twenty-eight-year-old men had already made. In a dozen ways, Mitch felt older than his years. He knew a great deal about pain and about courage and about the gut strength it took to fight for survival. But he seemed to know very little about how to form relationships that went beyond the superficial-and the ability to reach out to others wasn’t coming easily.

Except with the children, on Saturday mornings. Mitch paused in the open doorway of room 209. The room was a private one; Mitch had already tried to persuade Rhoda to move the boy into a two-bed room. Little ones needed company, not solitude, and this boy even more than most.

Peter was seven, a redhead with more freckles than face. His left leg was in a heavy cast. At a glance, Mitch could see the blotchy red around the youngster’s eyes, as if he had only recently finished crying. However, at the moment Peter’s cheeks were puckered, and he was clearly fighting laughter.