Danielle Steel: Accident

“My mother's right for once,” she said, smiling at him.

“How's that?”

“She always tells me I'm a very lucky woman.”

“I'm the lucky one this time.” He smiled. “Now I'll have to learn to be patient.” He took a sip of wine, and then grinned at her. “Doesn't Christmas sound good to you? I just think …Santa Claus …mistletoe …sleigh bells …” He knew her divorce would be final by Christmas.

“You're a lunatic. For all you know, I'm a monster to live with. You don't suppose Brad would have gotten so bored with me if I were fun to live with?”

“He's a fool, thank God. And I'll tell you one thing, I'd sure like a chance to find out for myself …without having to run home at four o'clock in the morning … or tiptoe around the house so Andy doesn't hear us.” Clearly, that had its limitations. He wanted to wake up lying next to her, and go to bed with her every night. He still wanted to go away for a weekend with her, but she still didn't feel right leaving Allie. “Just keep Christmas in the back of your head … see what you think of it, maybe after Tahoe.”

“Put it on your Christmas list,” she said mischievously, and he laughed.

“HI do that.”

CHAPTER 17

In late June, Page started the mural for the ICU at the hospital. She had offered it to them and they had been thrilled by the suggestion. She was doing two, both in Allie's name. One in the long, depressing hall that led up to the ICU, and the other in the dismal waiting room. She had spent long nights researching it, and she had chosen a countryside in Tuscany, and a port scene in San Remo. The one was peaceful and soothing, the other one amusing with lots of little details and vignettes. It would give people lots to look at and discover while they waited.

She showed Trygve the early sketches and he was very impressed. She thought they would each take her over a month, and then she was going to finish the last one at Ross Grammar School. And after that, in the fall, she was only going to do paid commissions.

“I can't afford not to,” she said bluntly. She would only be getting child support from Brad, and a small amount of alimony for two years. His contention was that, with her talent, there was no reason for her not to be earning a living. She was hoping to work things out with her murals and her work for friends, because she didn't want to leave Andy all day long, and she had no idea yet what Allie's needs were, how much time she'd be spending with her, what state she'd be in, or how much she'd need her.

It was becoming obvious now, though, that there was a good chance Allyson would never come out of the coma. She hadn't admitted that to Trygve yet, but he sensed that she was wrestling with the idea, and trying to accept it. She talked about Allie a lot these days, about the happier things she'd done, her accomplishments, her strengths, it was as though she was trying to remind everyone of what she had been, and who, and keep her from being forgotten.

“I don't want her life to have been in vain,” she said sadly to him one night. “I want people to remember her for who she was …not for the accident, or the tragedy, or what she is now. This isn't really Allie.”

“I know.” They talked about it for hours sometimes, and as always, he was there to help her.

He was happy to see her start the murals at the hospital, and she loved doing them. It kept her nearby, and sometimes she would just pop into the ICU to look at Allie, or kiss her. The bandages were off now, and her hair was growing again. It was short, but it looked sweet. It made her look even more childlike as she lay stiffly on her bed, with her head on the pillow.

“I love you,” Page would whisper and then go back to work again, her hair tied up in a knot, with her brushes sticking into it, and an old work-shirt.

But she also started another very special project at the same time. Suddenly she was moving ahead at full steam, and Trygve was relieved to see it. She was returning to the living. She started an art project at Bjorn's new school, and everyone was in love with her, especially the students. She did papiermache with them, and sculpture in clay, pottery, watercolors and drawings. They were so proud of their work, and she was so proud of them. It was the most rewarding thing she'd ever done, she told Trygve one night, as they cooked the kids dinner.

Bjorn was explaining to them what Page was doing at school, and Page beamed at him when he said how much he liked it. She had a warm relationship with him, and now when he went to bed, and she was there, he clung to her and kissed her good night, and asked her to read him a story, just as she did to Andy. She was surprised by his strength sometimes when he squeezed her, or lifted her up, but he was always gentle, and affectionate, and loving.

“He's such a good boy,” she said to Trygve after she put him to bed one night, and Trygve was so touched by what she said and did for him, and for Chloe. She worked tirelessly with Chloe, in her therapy when she had time.

“I wish you'd been their mother all along,” he said honestly, and she smiled.

“That's what Bjorn said. I'm honored.” But it meant a lot to her to be with him now, and share a relationship with him at school. She had the feeling finally that she was doing something important with her art, and even if she wasn't getting paid for it yet, she knew she would be. They had already asked her if she would be open to heading their art program at a later date, and it was something that appealed to her a great deal, and the hours would have worked out perfectly for Andy.

She and Andy spent the Fourth of July weekend with them. She stayed in the guest room, and Andy slept with Bjorn, and Trygve snuck into her room at night, and they giggled like two kids, locking the door so the children didn't catch them.

“We can't do this forever, you know. Sooner or later they'll have to accept what's happening,” he said, but neither of them was brave enough to force the issue yet, it was still too soon for Page to sleep in his bedroom openly, and they both knew that. Chloe was particularly possessive of him, and Page didn't want to upset her.

“If Chloe ever catches us, it'll be all over,” Page laughed, “she'll shake Allie awake just to tell her what's going on.” She smiled at the image, and he kissed her, and they both forgot their children.

They had a family barbecue on the Fourth of July, and they each invited a few friends. Jane Gil-son and her husband were there, the Applegates, and four other couples. It was the first any of them had known of the relationship, or the fact that Brad was gone, the first anyone had seen of Page since the accident. It was not quite three months, but it felt more like three years, and a lot had changed in a short time. But people were happy for them, everyone had always liked Trygve.

He was in charge of the barbecue, and she and the children did the rest, and Trygve let Bjorn shoot off a few firecrackers while he watched, and he kept a watchful eye on Andy.

“They're too dangerous,” Page complained, but the boys loved it, and nothing untoward happened. Everyone had a good time, and the last guests left at ten-thirty.

Page and Trygve cleaned up, and they were still putting food away, when Chloe came into the kitchen as fast as she could on her crutches.

“You have to come right away.” She looked shaken and pale, and Page didn't understand what could have happened. She thought one of the boys had been hurt, and she was instantly terrified as she hurried after her, and Trygve followed in anxious silence. But neither of them was prepared for what they saw when Chloe stopped in front of the television, and they saw a scene of carnage that had apparently happened that afternoon in La Jolla.