Danielle Steel - Accident

He smiled at the comparison, but it was true. And then he asked her something he hadn't dared to. “What are you and Andy doing this summer?”

“Summer? Oh God …that's right, it's June this week … I don't know. I don't suppose we can leave Allie.”

“What if there's no change? Don't you suppose you could get away, as long as it's not too far?” He was looking hopeful, and she smiled at him. He had brought up an interesting question. What if there was no change? Could she go away for a few days? Did she dare? Would she have to begin to lead a life that assumed Allie might stay in a coma?

“What did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously, still thinking of her daughter.

“A couple of weeks at Lake Tahoe. We go there every year, and Bjorn would love to have Andy with him,” he looked away and then back at her again “…and I'd love to have you there with me …”

“I'd like that,” she said softly. “We'll see. Let's see how Allie is by the time you go. When do you go?”

“August.”

“That's two months away. A lot could change by then.” Either she would have made some progress, or she'd be locked in her coma forever.

“Just keep it in mind,” he said, looking at her with eyes full of meaning.

“I will.” She smiled as their hands met and touched for a moment. All the electricity they'd shared briefly was there. But during the trauma of the separation, he'd backed off so as not to pressure her or confuse her. But he had missed her.

They left late, and Andy fell asleep in the car on the way home. It had been a nice weekend.

Trygve called her after she had put Andy to bed, and she was lying in her own bed, feeling lonely.

“I miss you,” he said, and she smiled. Now that Chloe was home from the hospital, they would see less of each other unless he came to the hospital specifically to see her. He knew her routine now. “I always miss you,” he said, sounding husky and sexy. Most of the time she tried not to let herself think about him right now. She had wanted some time to mourn Brad and their marriage, but she missed Trygve's company too. He was a good friend, an attractive man, and fun to be with. “When am I going to see you again?” he asked. “I'm not sure we can carry on in the ICU waiting room for the rest of our lives.” They both remembered the endless hours and the recent kisses they had shared there.

“I hope we won't have to meet there forever,” she said sadly.

“So do I. But in the meantime, how about a real date one of these days, without kids, without nurses, with real food, and no pepperoni pizza.” She laughed at the thought, it was an appealing idea. No one had asked her out in years. The thought of it made her feel young and attractive.

“It sounds incredible.” She had only been out once, with her mother, since the accident six weeks before, but maybe now she was ready. “You mean I don't have to cook?”

“No,” he said emphatically, “and no Norwegian stew, and no Swedish meatballs. No peanut butter sandwiches. No S'Mores. Real food. Grown-up stuff. How about the Silver Dove on Thursday?” It was a romantic spot in Marin, and if anything happened, they would be close by if they were needed.

“It sounds wonderful,” she said, feeling happier than she had in weeks. He always managed to make her feel special, even in her gardening sweater and worst shoes, he made her feel like a beauty.

“Pll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

“Perfect.” She could either leave Andy with Jane, or get a sitter. And then suddenly she laughed, thinking of something.

“What's up?”

“I was just thinking it was my first real date in seventeen years. I'm not sure I remember how you do that.”

“Don't worry about a thing. I'll show you.” They both laughed, feeling young again, and they chatted for a while, about other things than their children for a change, his latest article, her plans for the mural at school, and his house at Tahoe. He told her also that he'd spoken to his investigative reporter friend, who was doing a little initial digging about Laura Hutchinson, and her drinking. It might not turn up anything, and it still would never prove anything about the accident. But somehow Trygve was haunted by his suspicions.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said finally, sounding husky again, and she wondered what he meant when she hung up, but the next day he turned up at ICU with a picnic basket and a bunch of flowers.

She had been working with Allie and the therapist, trying to stretch her muscles. Her legs were pointed out straight now, her feet rigid in their position, her elbows flexed, her arms locked, her hands tightly clenched. It took endless exercising to even help her move or bend or stretch. And her body, like her mind, seemed not to be responding. It was depressing, working with the therapist, and Page was happy to see him.

“Come on, let's go outside.” He could see how tired and down she was. “It's a gorgeous day.”

And it was, the sun was hot, the sky was blue. It was everything one expects of June in California. And the moment she got outside, she felt better.

They sat on the lawn outside for a long time, with the nurses and the medical students and residents. Everyone looked as though they were in love and lazy.

“It's spring,” Trygve announced, lying on the grass next to her, as she sniffed happily at the flowers he'd brought her. Without thinking, she touched his cheek gently with her fingers, and he looked up at her with a look she hadn't seen on a man's face in years, if ever. It made her realize suddenly what she had been missing. “You're beautiful …very, very beautiful … in fact,” he beamed, “you even look Norwegian.”

“I'm not,” she smiled, feeling young and foolish with him, “Addison is English.”

“Well, you look Scandinavian to me.” He looked at her seriously. “I was just thinking what gorgeous children we could have. Do you want more?” he asked curiously. He wanted to know everything about her. Not just how she felt about Allyson, or how strong she was, or how good a mother. He wanted to know the rest of it, the things they hadn't had time to explore as they sat in anguished vigil for their daughters.

“I used to want more children,” she answered him, “but I'm thirty-nine. It's sort of late by now, and I've got my hands full with Andy, and now Allie.”

“It won't always be that way, and you're getting into a routine with her.” She had to, for her own survival. “I'm forty-two, and I don't feel too old. I'd love to have a couple more, and at thirty-nine, you could have half a dozen.”

“What a thought!” she laughed, and then thought about it again. “Andy would like that. We were talking about it that day coming home from the baseball game, and then that night, Allie had the accident … it sure changed everything, didn't it?” He nodded. Six and a half weeks later she was no longer living with her husband, and Chloe was no longer a ballerina …not to mention Phillip, who was dead, or Allie, whose life had been changed forever. “Anyway …yeah … I'd like more kids. One anyway. I'd have to see after that. And I really want to pursue my artwork. Actually, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about doing a mural in ICU. I talked to Frances,” their favorite head nurse, “and she was going to ask someone about it.”

“Actually, I'd love to do something like that at my place. Would you take me on as a client?—A paying client that is!”

“I'd love it.”

“Good. How about a consultation tomorrow night, after dinner? You can bring Andy.”

“You won't get tired of me if you're seeing me on Thursday too?” She looked worried and he laughed.

“I don't think that I'd get tired of you, Page, if I saw you day and night forever. In fact, eventually I'd like to prove that.” She blushed as he said it, and he pulled her down next to him and kissed her. “Fin in love with you, Page,” he whispered, “very, very, very much in love with you. And I'm never going to get tired of you. Do you hear me? We're going to have ten children and live happily ever after.” He was laughing and kissing her, and she lay on the grass happily in his arms, feeling like a kid again. It was too good to be true, and she only hoped it would last and he meant it.