Сандра Браун - Adam's Fall

It made the evening news.

The accident occurred on a mountain in northern Italy. As mountains went, it wasn't that majestic. But it was sufficient. Sufficiently high and rugged to win the respect of even expert climbers. A fall into a chasm of rock thirty feet deep was sufficient to seriously damage Adam Cavanaugh's spine, warrant headlines, and pitch hundreds of his employees around the globe into a panic.

Thad Randolph didn't panic. But the news report certainly gave him pause. He stopped repairing a Transformer for his son, Matt, and brusquely demanded quiet from him and his sister, Megan. Thad reached for the volume knob of the portable TV on the kitchen counter and turned it up.

"…the only survivor. He has just been flown here to Rome, where the extent of his injuries will hopefully become known later this evening. Other members of the mountain climbing expedition party were French race car driver Pierre Gautier and English banking magnate Alexander Arrington. Both men were reported dead at the scene. Mr Cavanaugh, an internationally renowned tycoon, is owner of the Hotel Cavanaugh chain. He is — "

"Hey, that's where Mom works," Matt said.

"Are they talking about the Adam we know?" Megan asked.

"Yes," Thad said grimly. "Shh."

The report was being broadcast live at the scene in Rome. The anchorman in New York asked the field reporter, "Are doctors speculating on Mr Cavanaugh's condition at all?"

"No, they're not. Hospital officials refuse to release any information until Mr Cavanaugh has undergone a thorough examination and his condition is fully ascertained. All we are being told at present is that his injury, or injuries, involve the spinal column and appear to be serious."

"Was he conscious when he arrived?"

"We've had no official confirmation of that, although he appeared not to be. As soon as the helicopter arrived, he was rushed inside. We'll have more information — "

Abruptly Thad reached for the sound knob and turned it all the way down. He said a word that his two children had been commissioned to ignore and forbidden to repeat. They never repeated it for fear of reprisal — which didn't seem quite fair since their mom never punished Thad for saying it — but they couldn't ignore it. Not when it practically sizzled off their dad's narrowed lips. "The damn fool."

"Who is?" Elizabeth Randolph entered the kitchen through the back door and dropped her briefcase and handbag on the table. The three of them swung around.

"Mom! Guess who the man on TV was talking about?"

"Matt, Megan, scoot," Thad said quickly. He made an arrow of his arm and pointed toward the door leading to the central rooms of the house.

"But, Dad — "

"Out. Let me talk to your mother alone."

"But she — "

The objections died on their lips when his eyebrows fashioned a steep V. He meant business. In the year since Thad Randolph had married Elizabeth Burke, her children had come to adore and respect him. He had adjusted to their rambunctiousness and they to his moods. They were affectionate with each other; the children had readily agreed to become his by adoption. But he was now wearing his no-nonsense face, which meant arguing would not only be ineffectual, but imprudent. They shuffled out.

"Thad? What is it?"

He moved toward Elizabeth and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want you to get upset."

"The look on your face has already upset me. What's going on? What is it? What's happened? Something terrible, I know. Mom? Dad? Lilah?"

Elizabeth had lost her first husband to a dreadful freeway accident. She knew what it felt like to unexpectedly receive the worst of bad news. She felt again a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, just as she had the morning she'd opened her door to two policemen, holding their hats in their hands and wearing funereal expressions. Fearfully, she gripped the front of Thad's shirt.

"Tell me."

"It's Adam."

"Adam?" She wet her lips quickly. Her face turned Elizabeth was personally involved with Adam Cavanaugh. Originally it had been strictly a business arrangement. But their professional relationship had grown in proportion to the expansion of her Fantasy shops in the lobbies of Cavanaugh's hotels. The shops now totaled five with plans for more. Elizabeth and Adam shared a close personal friendship that at one time might have made Thad jealous. But since he was convinced that the handsome, young millionaire was no longer his rival for Elizabeth's love, Thad considered Adam his friend as well.

"Something's happened to Adam?" Elizabeth asked in a voice made thin by anxiety.

"He slipped and fell while mountain climbing in Italy."

"Oh, God." She pressed her fingers against her lips. "He's dead?"

"No. But he's seriously injured. They've taken him to Rome."

"'Seriously injured'? How?"

"They're not sure of the extent of — "

"Thad."

He sighed with resignation. "Spinal injury."

Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes. "Was the spinal cord severed?"

"I don't know." When she looked dubious, he emphasized, "I swear, I don't know. The reports are sketchy." He told her everything the reporter had said. "It doesn't look good."

Elizabeth slumped against her husband. He embraced her tightly. "Adam was so looking forward to this trip," she said against the front of Thad's shirt. "When he told me he was going to climb that mountain, I said I thought he was crazy to risk life and limb on a silly sport." She sniffed back tears. "But I was only joking." She raised her head suddenly. "Two friends of his were going with him. What about them?"

Thad slid his fingers up into her hair and pressed her head back into place. He massaged her scalp. "They died in the accident, Elizabeth."

"Oh," she groaned, "how awful for Adam."

"According to the report, one of them slipped into an icy chasm and dragged the others down with him."

"Knowing Adam, whether it was his fault or not, he'll take full responsibility." After a moment she pushed herself away and looked up at Thad. "What should we do?"

"There's nothing we can do at this point."

"I've got to do something, Thad."

"You've got to think about yourself. And the baby." He laid his open hand against her lower abdomen, which was firmly rounded with pregnancy. She was in her last trimester. "Adam wouldn't want you to endanger his godchild."

"I could ask Mrs Alder to come stay with the children. We could get a flight out of Chicago to Rome tonight."

"Uh-uh," he said, sternly shaking his head. "You're not flying to Rome."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," she cried in frustration.

"You'll have plenty to do in the next few days. There'll be a million and one details to be taken care of. Everything will be in a state of chaos until Adam's prognosis is officially handed down. He would rely on your levelheadedness in such a crisis. You're far more valuable to him here, taking calls, staving off the curious, than you would be pacing the corridors of a Roman hospital, worrying about something you have no control over and wearing yourself out in the process."

She slumped dejectedly. "I guess you're right. I know you're right. It's just that I feel so useless."

Thad didn't say so, but he was thinking how much more useless Adam Cavanaugh was going to feel when he regained consciousness — God forbid that he wouldn't — and learned that he had suffered a debilitating spinal injury.

"The poor bastard," he muttered where Elizabeth couldn't hear, as he pulled her back into his reassuring embrace.

"Bad idea. Of all ideas ever conceived by man, this is the baddest."