They had all stopped talking when she had opened the door, had all looked up expecting to see a familiar face from weeks past. Instead, Phillip Shaw had found himself looking into the face of a beautiful, but very sick young woman. She had glanced around the room, waited for a moment at the door, then had visibly relaxed and walked over to the couch just to his left. He was sitting with the friends he'd made years ago, when his wife Janie had still be struggling with her cancer. She had died, but that hadn't stopped Phil's weekly visit to the support group . . . Adam Beckett and Craig Heyman counted on him to be there for them as they had struggled through their own difficulties.

Adam's daughter Celia had just recently died of brain cancer, her frail body unable to support her life any longer. He was devstated, but the group helped, Phil's friendship helped. Craig was currently in remission from his long battle with prostate cancer and all three men were hoping that it would last. Phil didn't know what he would do if he lost Craig, only a year after Janie and only weeks after Celia.

All three men had fallen silent as she had glided across the room, her feet barely making a sound on the linoleum floor. Her black hair was thin and it barely touched the back of her neck, but it shiny, soft looking. Phil realized with a start that she looked like Celia . . . even a little like Janie. The way she moved, the way she brushed her hair off her neck and rotated her shoulders to work out the knots that had formed.

"She looks like Celia," Adam breathed from beside Phil, careful to keep his voice down. "Jesus Christ, Phil, she looks like my dead daughter."

Phil shook his head, attempting to dispell any ideas that he had about this woman. "She's much older than Celia was, Adam," he said gently. "She's another girl. She's someone else."

"She looks really sick," Craig murmured, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of her. "She's pretty, but she looks so sick."

"She's probably dying," Adam said, more sharply than he intended. He winced and glanced at Craig. "I'm sorry."

Craig shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Phil saw the girl looking at them curiously and he glanced away. "I think she's on to us," he murmured. "We'd better relax a little. She can't be more than twenty three, what would she want with three thirty year old men?"

Adam glanced at the girl and his grey eyes caught her black ones. "Friendship, maybe."

The group leader came in before they could continue their conversation about the new woman and decide whether or not to introduce themselves. All their questions, however, were easily answered when the tall blonde caught sight of the new person in their midst.

She smiled gently. "Welcome to our group," she said. "My name is Madison and I'm the leader here. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The thin woman nodded slowly, then tried a small smile on the group. "My name is Emma Borody. I'm twenty one . . . I've lived in New York for most of my life and I've been struggling with bone cancer for four years. I'm currently in remission, so . . . here's to hoping, right?"

Madison smiled slightly. "Anything else you'd like to tell us about yourself? Your family, friends . . . things you love, things you hate?"

Emma shrugged. "Uh, I've lived in foster care since I was a baby. I don't know my family. Friends . . . they're few and far betwee lately. I hate pity and I love," she smiled shyly, "I love to sing."

Madison's face lit up in a smile. "Would you care to bless us with a song?"

Emma's pale face instantly flamed red. "You, uh, you want me to sing?"

"Only if you want to," Madison said quickly.

"I can," Emma answered, just as quickly. "There's this song . . . it's kind of dear to me."

Phil smiled. "Go ahead," he said softly. "We'd love to hear it."

Emma caught his eye, held his steady gaze and she nodded. "Sure, okay." She adjusted herself on the couch, straightening her posture and placing her hands on her thin knees. Her eyes fluttered closed and she drew in a deep breath, then began to sing. "I had a dream I was moving forward, floating gently to the sun. I come to see my world reward, a new day has begun."

Her voice was soft, more fragile than anything Phil had ever heard. He was afraid to breathe, lest is might break her gorgeous song.

"Now I can't see the earth below me and I can't feel it turn," she sang. "Feel it turn. Feel it turn." She drew in another breath to sing the next verse, but stopped suddenly as her face paled. She drew a quivering hand to her mouth and placed it against her lips as her shoulders heaved.

"I'm sorry," Emma said, her voice barely audible. "I have to leave, I-" she cut herself off and grabbed her jacket before she ran from the room. Madison looked concerned, but held up a hand when Phil stood.

"She'll be okay Phil," she said firmly. "She's obviously taking a lot of medications right now. Just give her a chance to calm herself down."

He nodded and sat slowly on the couch, resuming his place next to Adam. As Madison began to talk, Phil turned to his friends and smiled.

"She sang beautifully," he said.

"I could barely hear her," Adam said, then shrugged. "But it sounded nice."

"I sure hope she's okay," Craig murmured. His dark blue eyes danced over the doorway. "I know what it's like . . ."

"We've all seen it Craig," Adam said. "We all know what it's like."

•

End Chapter Two

Notes: Much thanks must go to Gedia for inspiring me to finally write my own original fiction. Writing hermits we shall become, right my dear?