Danielle Steel: Accident

They went back into the house, hand in hand, and she felt lonely again, but tried not to. It was stupid. She was a grown woman, she didn't have to be that dependent on him. And he would be back in three days. You'd think he'd be gone for a month from the way she was feeling.

Allyson was ready by then, and she looked really lovely. She had on the tiniest bit of mascara, and a pale pink gloss on her lips that barely shimmered. She looked clean and healthy and young. Youth at its most exquisite moment. She was the same age as the models they put on the cover of Vogue , and in some ways, Page thought, she looked better than they did.

“Have a good time, sweetheart. And I'd like you home by eleven.” It was an ordinary curfew, and Page was always firm about it.

“Mom!”

“Never mind that. Eleven is perfectly reasonable, and you know it.” She had just turned fifteen, and Page didn't see why she had to stay out any later.

“What if the movie gets out later than that?”

“Eleven-thirty then. Any later than eleven-thirty, forget the movie.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“You're welcome. Do you want a ride to Chloe's?”

“No, thanks, I'll walk. See you later.” She slipped out of the house, while Page went to get her sweater and her handbag out of their bedroom. The phone rang as she picked up her bag. It was her mother in New York. She explained that she and Andy were on their way out to dinner, and she'd call her back the next day. And by the time Page and Andy got back in the car, with their things, Allyson was long gone, and had probably already reached Chloe's.

“Well, young man, what'll it be? Domino's or Shakey's?”

“Domino's. We went to Shakey's last time.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Page flipped on the radio in the car, and let Andy pick the music. He picked the rock-and-roll station that he knew Allyson liked. He had very odd musical tastes for a seven-year-old boy, and he got them mostly from his older sister.

They got to the restaurant in five minutes, and Page felt better by then. Her moment of melancholy was gone, and she and Andy had a good time. They always did when they were together. He told her about all his friends, and what they did in school, and he explained to her how when he grew up he had decided to be a teacher. When she asked him why, he said it was because he liked taking care of little kids, and he liked the long summer vacations.

“Or maybe I'll be a baseball star, for the Giants or the Mets.”

“That would be nice too.” She smiled, he was always fun and easy to be with.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Are you an artist?”

“More or less. I used to be, but I don't do it very seriously anymore. I haven't in a long time.” He nodded, thinking about it.

“I like the mural you did at school.”

“I'm glad. I like it too. It was fun to do. I think I'm going to do another one.” He seemed pleased, and when they finished their pizza, he paid for them, and left the amount for the tip that she told him to. Then he put an arm around her waist and they walked back to the station wagon parked outside.

Ten minutes later, they were home, and after his bath, he joined her in her bed to watch TV. Eventually, she let him fall asleep in her bed, and smiled as she tucked him in and kissed him. At seven he was already a big boy, but he was still her baby, and always would be. In her own way, Allyson was still her baby too. Maybe children always are, at any age. She smiled, thinking of her, in the borrowed pink cashmere, and how pretty she looked when she left to have dinner with the Thorensens.

Page thought of Brad then too. And when she checked for messages on the machine, she discovered that he had called her from the airport. He had probably known they would be out, but he had just called to tell her he loved her.

She watched a movie on TV then. She was tired and would have gone to sleep, but she wanted to wait up for Allyson. Page had not yet reached the point of being able to assume that she would come in. She wanted to know for sure, so she sat up and waited.

At eleven o'clock she watched the news. Nothing too remarkable had happened, and Page saw with relief that there had been no disasters in the air, or at the airport. Whenever Brad was traveling, she was always nervous that something terrible might happen to him. But nothing had. There had been the usual shootings in Oakland, the gang wars, the politicians insulting each other, and a minor crisis at a water treatment plant. And other than that, there had been an accident on the Golden Gate Bridge, and a few minutes before they had closed the bridge, but at least Page knew that she didn't have to worry about that. Brad was in the air, and Allyson had stayed in Marin, with the Thorensens. Andy was in bed next to her. All her chickens were accounted for, thank God. It was something to be grateful for, as she glanced at the clock and waited for Allyson to come home by eleven-thirty. It was eleven-twenty by then, and knowing her well, Page knew she would come racing through the door at eleven twenty-nine, eyes bright, hair flying …and probably with a huge spot of spaghetti sauce on the borrowed pink cashmere sweater. Page smiled to herself, thinking of it, as she settled deeper into her bed, to watch the weather.

CHAPTER 2

As Allyson hurried down the walk when she left her house, she was already five minutes late for her appointment with Chloe. Her house was three blocks from Allyson's, but she didn't even have to go that far this time. Allyson and Chloe had agreed to meet at the corner of Shady Lane and Lagunitas, halfway between their two homes, and just around the corner from Chloe's.

Chloe was already there when Allyson arrived, breathless and flushed in the slightly too warm pink cashmere sweater.

“Wow! That's neat!” Chloe admired. “Is it your mom's?” She no longer had the vast pool of her mother's wardrobe to draw from, and she had borrowed the black sweater she was wearing from the older sister of a girl in school. Or actually, Chloe's friend had stolen it from her older sister, and assured Chloe that they'd all be dead if it wasn't returned, without fail, by Sunday morning. It was a black turtleneck sweater, and she was wearing it with a black leather miniskirt she'd borrowed from another friend, and a pair of black tights her mother had forgotten in a drawer when she left for England.

“You look cool,” Allyson nodded, impressed with the sophisticated outfit. She started to worry then that she looked like Little Bo Peep next to Chloe. But in any case, their looks were very different. The black sweater and skirt set off Chloe's shining dark hair, in sharp contrast to her creamy white skin. She was a very pretty girl, and she stood next to Allyson, looking like a nervous ballerina. She had done eleven years of ballet, and it showed in her every movement. She was hoping to transfer to the San Francisco Ballet School in the fall, and had just been accepted after a series of gruelling auditions. Allyson was looking at her uncomfortably, as Chloe looked at her watch repeatedly and glanced down the street with obvious expectation. “Stop it! You're making me a wreck! Maybe we shouldn't have done it,” Allyson said' looking ready to cry, and suddenly remorseful.

“How can you say a thing like that?” Chloe looked terrified. “They're the two best-looking guys in the whole school. And Phillip Chapman is a senior!” Phillip was Allyson's date, and Jamie Applegate was the boy Chloe had been dreaming of since she was a freshman. He was a junior now, and both boys were on the swimming team.

It was Jamie who had set up the date, and Chloe who had arranged it. She had consulted with Allyson immediately, who said that her mother would never let her go out with a senior. She had only had a few very tentative dates by then, usually to go to movies with boys she had known all her life, or in a large group of friends, and so far always dropped off and picked up by their parents. None of their sophomore friends had driver's licenses yet, so transportation was all-important. There were parties, of course, and she had gone steady for a few weeks before Christmas, but they were sick of each other by the New Year. There had never been a real date with a real boy who picked her up in a real car and took her out for a real dinner. Until tonight. This was very real, a little too much so.