Danielle Steel: Accident

“You're her mother?”

Page nodded, feeling her body shake more. “Is she … is she …”

“She's alive.” Page's legs went weak, as the woman came around the desk and held her firmly. “She's very, very badly hurt, Mrs. Clarke. She has a severe head injury. Our neurosurgical team is with her now, and we're waiting for our head of services. When he gets here, we'll be able to tell you more. But she's hanging in.” She led Page to a chair, and helped her to sit down. It was as though the whole world had turned upside down in a single moment. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” She looked sympathetically down at her, and Page tried not to cry as she shook her head, but it was hopeless. The tears instantly overflowed as she tried to absorb what the woman had said …neurosurgeons …neurosurgical team …she's very, very badly hurt …but why? How? How had it happened? “Are you okay?” the nurse asked rhetorically. It was obvious that she wasn't, as she blew her nose and shook her head, and wished she could turn the clock back. And she had been so angry at her for missing her curfew. It was unbearable to think of it. While she was being angry, Allyson was being hit head-on … it didn't even bear thinking.

“Was anyone else hurt?” Page finally managed to croak, and the nurse looked at her sadly as she nodded.

“The driver was killed. And another young girl was severely injured.”

“Oh my God …” Killed? …Trygve Thorensen dead? How in God's name had this happened? And as she thought of it, she saw a man emerge from one of the emergency rooms who looked astonishingly like him. He walked out of the treatment room in a daze and seemed to stare at Page, without actually seeing who she was. It was Page who suddenly realized that it was Trygve. But how was this possible? The nurse had said he was dead. Was it all a lie? A bad joke? A bad dream? Was she crazy, or dreaming? But the nightmare was all too true, as she looked at him, and she knew it. The nurse discreetly moved away, and Trygve stood looking down at Page, with tears flowing unchecked down his own cheeks.

“Page, I'm so sorry …”He reached out and took her hand in his own, and held it for a moment. “I should have known … I guess I should have seen it coming, but I wasn't paying attention … I don't know how I could have been so stupid.” She stared at him in horror. He hadn't been paying attention, and their children had been critically injured …how could he even say this to her? And why had the nurse told her he was dead, when he wasn't?

“I don't understand,” Page said, staring up at him in anguish, as he sat down slowly next to her, shaking his head, still unable to believe what had happened.

“I'm beginning to. I should have known when I saw her go out in that outfit. She was wearing a black leather skirt she'd borrowed from somewhere, and black stockings that must have been Dana's …I'm a damn fool. I was working on something with Bjorn, and I just let it slide by. She said she was going out with you, so I figured she was okay … I wish to hell now that I'd stopped her.”

“Out with me} You mean …you weren't driving?” A rush of fresh fear overcame her as she understood him. They hadn't been out with him at all. But then who had they been with, and who was the driver?

“No, I wasn't.”

“Allyson said you were taking them to dinner at Luigi's, and a movie. It never occurred to me that you weren't …” And then, suddenly, as she thought about it, the pieces of the puzzle fit together for her too. The borrowed cashmere sweater, the white skirt, the fact that she scampered off to Chloe's, and didn't let Page drive her there. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“I guess we both were.” He stared at her through his tears, and she began to cry again. “You should have seen Chloe when she came in …she's got multiple compound fractures of both legs, a shattered hip, broken pelvis, internal injuries. They're removing her spleen now, and she may have damaged her liver. They have to replace the hip, put the pelvis together with pins …she may never walk again, Page …” His tears went unchecked. “And all she wanted was to get into that ballet school. Oh Christ …how did this happen?”

Page nodded, numbed by what she'd just heard. Chloe unable to walk again …and Allyson with a severe head injury. She looked at Trygve then, no longer able to blame him. “Did you see Allyson?” She was almost afraid to herself, and yet she wanted to desperately, but they had told her she had to wait until the neurosurgeons had finished their evaluation. But what if she died first, and Page wasn't there …what if …what if.

“No, I didn't,” Trygve said soberly, drying his tears for a moment. “I asked to, but they wouldn't let me. They just took Chloe to surgery. They think it'll take six to eight hours, maybe longer. It's going to be a long night.” Or not. That would be even worse, for Page. For Allyson, it could all be over very quickly.

“They told me Allyson had a severe head injury, but that was all they'd say,” he said softly.

“That's all they said to me too. I'm not even sure what that means. Is she brain damaged? Will she die? Could she be all right again?” Tears filled Page's eyes as she talked in circles and he listened. “She's with the neurosurgeons now.”

“You just have to believe that she'll be all right. Right now that's all we have.”

“But what if she isn't?” Page was grateful to have someone to talk to, and at least he knew all the terrors that she was feeling, except that Chloe was alive, and no matter how badly battered, she seemed not to be in mortal danger.

“Try not to ask yourself too many questions,” he said. “I keep doing that about Chloe …what if she can't walk …what if she's paralyzed …will she ever be able to walk or dance or run … or have children? A few minutes ago, I found myself planning where to put ramps for her wheelchair. You have to force yourself to stop doing that. We just don't know yet. Live it minute by minute.” Page nodded, knowing what he meant. One minute, she found herself trying to figure out what she would tell Brad if Allyson died, the next she refused to believe it.

“Do you know who was driving?” Page asked somberly, remembering what the nurse had said, that he was dead. And she had assumed it was Trygve.

“Only his name. A boy called Phillip Chapman, he was seventeen. That's all I know. And Chloe was in no condition to answer questions.”

“I've heard of him. I think I've met his parents. How do you suppose they knew him?”

“God knows …school …one of their sports teams …the tennis club …they're growing up, you know. I never went through anything like this with the boys though. Not with Nick at any rate.” And, of course, Bjorn would have been different. “I guess girls are a little more enterprising, or at least ours are.” He tried to make her smile, but Page was beyond it. What if she never grew up? Never had a real date? Or a boyfriend? Or a husband? Or a baby? What if this was it? Fifteen brief years, and then over. Just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes again, and Trygve took her hand in his, and held it, when he saw her crying.

“Don't, Page … try not to panic.”

“How can I not? How can you say that?” She took her hand away and began to sob. “She may not even live. She may end up like the boy who was driving.” He nodded miserably, and she blew her nose in terror and despair, and then looked up at him again. “Were they drinking?” It was the first thing that came to mind when she thought of a seventeen-year-old driver and an accident like this one.

“I don't know,” he told her honestly. “The nurse told me that they're taking blood tests from all of them, to check the alcohol levels in their blood. I suppose they could have been,” he said dismally, as a reporter approached them. He had been watching them talk for a while, and Trygve had seen him ask the nurse at the desk some questions after he finished with the highway patrolman.