Accident (18 page)

She showered and dressed for the funeral then, and Trygve came to pick her up at exactly two-fifteen. He was wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark tie, and he looked serious and very handsome. Page was wearing a black linen suit she had bought in New York the last time she visited her mother.

The service was at St. John's Episcopal Church, and somehow Page hadn't been prepared for the hundreds of kids who would attend, their shining young faces stricken by the loss of their friend, their hearts open for all to see, their grief overwhelming. There was a wonderful photograph of him with the swimming team on the program that the ushers handed out. And then Page realized that the ushers were Phillip's friends from the swim team. She saw Jamie Applegate there too. He looked devastated as he sat between his parents. But they seemed supportive of him. And his father had an arm around his shoulders.

They played all the music that the kids loved too, and Page felt tears instantly fill her throat as she heard it. There were at least three or four hundred young people in the church, and she knew Allyson would have been there too, if she hadn't been in the hospital in a coma.

And then, looking very dignified, and overwhelmed with grief, Phillip's parents walked in and took their seats in the front pew. There was another much older couple with them, Phillip's grandparents, and just seeing them made one cry. The power of his loss was so obvious just from their faces.

The minister spoke very movingly about the mysteries of God's love, and the terrible pain we feel at the loss of a loved one. He spoke of what an extraordinary young man Phillip had been, how admired by everyone, what a bright future he'd had before him. Page could hardly stand listening as she sobbed, trying not to think of what they would say if Allie died. It would be much the same thing. She was loved and admired by all. And the pain of her loss would be beyond bearing.

Mrs. Chapman cried openly through the entire ceremony, and the school choir sang “Amazing Grace” at the end of the service. And then everyone was invited up to the altar, for a moment of special prayer, and a last tribute to their friend. Mostly, the young people went, in groups or alone, crying, and holding hands, as they placed flowers on Phillip's casket. Everyone in the church was sobbing by then, and Page felt overwhelmed as she looked around her at the devastated young faces. It was then that she saw Laura Hutchinson, crying softly in a pew a few feet away. She seemed to have come alone, and she seemed as moved as everyone. Page stared at her for a long time, but she could see nothing more than a deeply affected mourner. Surprisingly little was said. Everyone looked dazed. It was just too painful.

And then, as they walked outside afterward, Page and Trygve noticed the reporters. They were following Laura Hutchinson at first, but she disappeared quickly into a limousine without speaking to them. And then they took photographs of the young people's faces, as they stood crying on the sidewalk. And then suddenly, they seemed to close in on the Chapmans. And Phillip's father became enraged and shouted at them through his tears that they were heartless bastards, as friends gently led him away. But even then, the reporters didn't leave, but they backed off slightly. It was still a hot story.

There was a reception after the service, in the school auditorium, and the Chapmans had invited a few friends to go home with them after that. But Page didn't want to go to either place. She couldn't bear it. She just wanted to be alone somewhere, to recover from the powerful blow of what she had felt at the service. She looked up at Trygve then, standing quietly at her side, and saw that he had cried as much as she had.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, and she nodded but started to cry again. “Yeah. Me too. Come on, I'll take you home.” She nodded again and followed him back to the car, and they sat there for a long moment in silence. She hadn't had the courage to say anything to the Chapmans as they left, but they had signed the guest book in the front of the church. She read afterward in the paper that there had been over five hundred mourners.

“Oh God, that was rough.” She finally spoke, trying to catch her breath, as Trygve looked at her, feeling drained by his emotions.

“It's awful. There's nothing worse. I hope I never live long enough to see the death of one of my children.” And then he was sorry for what he had said, knowing that Allyson's life still hung in the balance, but Page understood it. She didn't want to go through it either.

“I saw Mrs. Hutchinson. It was pretty ballsy of her to be there. I would think the Chapmans would be upset by her coming.”

“Yeah, but the press would be favorably impressed. It shows how much she cares, how human she is. It was a smart move,” he said wryly.

“That sounds pretty cynical,” she said bluntly. “Maybe she's sincere.”

“I doubt it. I know politicians. Believe me, her husband told her to be there. Maybe the accident wasn't her fault, maybe she is totally innocent. But in the meantime, this makes her look good.”

“Is that what it was all about?” Page looked disappointed.

“Probably. I don't know. I just keep feeling that she was negligent somehow, that it wasn't the kids' fault, or maybe I just want to believe that.” So did the Chapmans. Trygve started the car, and they followed a long line of cars back toward Page's house, on the way to school, and then she remembered that she needed to go to the hospital anyway for her car. And she wanted to see Allie more than ever after what they'd just been through. She wanted to reassure herself that Allie was still there, after the misery of being at Phillip's funeral, and sharing all that anguish.

“Do you mind dropping me off?” she asked, smiling sadly at him. It had been a terrible afternoon for both of them. Page had called the hospital several times that afternoon to see how Allyson was, but there had been no change since that morning.

“No problem. I want to see Chloe anyway. It makes you grateful they're alive, doesn't it?”

Page nodded, thinking of what Brad had said in the heat of the moment about not wanting Allie to be less than perfect. But he seemed to believe it. “I'd rather have Allie in any state, than lose her. Maybe that's wrong of me, but that's how I feel. Brad says he'd rather lose her than have her be limited in any way.”

“That's a pretty elitist view of life, and awfully black and white. I agree with you, I'd rather have whatever I could get, than nothing.” Page agreed with him, but oddly enough, not about her marriage. She was much less willing to compromise there, but in her eyes that was different.

“He can't seem to face what's happening. He's running away from it,” she said quietly, trying not to get angry again thinking of his disappearances, as recently as the night before.

“Some people can't handle this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, like Dana …Brad … so how come we get stuck with it? Are we so brave? Or just stupid?” Page smiled at him.

“Probably both,” he grinned, “no choice, I guess. When there's no one else there, you do what you have to.” He looked at her honestly. He had spent enough time with her now to ask her a straight question. “It doesn't make you mad?” He was intrigued about her, and her willingness to accept what was obviously a less than perfect marriage. Brad had scarcely been around since the accident, and Trygve knew it.

“Actually, it makes me furious,” she admitted with a smile. “We just had a knock-down-drag-out fight about it at lunchtime.”

“At least you're human. It used to make me mad too, when Dana was never around when I needed her, or the kids did.”

“In this case, there are some other complications.”

Trygve nodded, trying not to ask any further questions. And then finally, he couldn't resist, and asked her anyway.

“Serious complications?”

“It looks that way,” she said honestly. “Possibly terminal.”

“Then it came as a surprise?” he asked gently.

“Actually, yes. I've been married for sixteen years and up until three days ago, I thought our marriage was terrific,” she said as they approached the hospital. “Apparently, I made a mistake. A big one.”

“Maybe not. Maybe this is just the hard part. Every marriage hits a rough spot, now and then.”

She shook her head, thinking about it. “There was a lot I didn't know. I've been kidding myself for a long time, and I didn't know it. But now that I do know it's hard to pretend it's not happening. I just can't do that. The timing is pretty rotten.” She looked grim as she explained it to him.

“Remember what I said before, some people go off the deep end when faced with a crisis.”

“I think he's been off it for a long time. He just happened to get caught with his pants down.” She smiled ruefully, and Trygve laughed at her expression, and the way she'd said it.

“Bad luck for him.” Trygve smiled. Page was amazed at the ease with which she spoke to him. She seemed to be able to tell him anything. Things she certainly wouldn't have told her sister or even Jane Gilson, who was an old friend, but not a real confidant. After the rigors of her early life, she had never gotten close to anyone except Brad, which made his betrayal all the more painful. And now, much to her surprise she could tell Trygve things she might even have hesitated telling Brad before all this happened.

They were at the hospital by then, and they headed for ICU, still subdued by the aura of the funeral, but it was almost a relief for both of them to see their children. Chloe was stirring a little bit, but doing fairly well, and Allie was the same. For the moment, her condition was stable.

Page left before Trygve this time. She went home around five o'clock to pick Andy up at Jane's. The car pool had taken him to baseball, and he would have been home by then. And by the time she drove to her house, she couldn't wait to see him.

It had been an agonizing afternoon, and the grief of Phillip's funeral took her breath away every time she thought of the young people crying for him, or the faces of his parents. They had looked inconsolable as they left the church, and Page's heart had gone out to them. She could still hear the high school chorus singing in her head as she rang the bell at Jane's house.

“Hi, how are you?” Jane looked at her, and then frowned as Page walked in. “Or shouldn't I ask?” Maybe things had gotten worse. Page looked drawn and pale and desperately unhappy.

“I'm okay,” she said quietly. “I went to Phillip Chapman's funeral.”

“How was it?” Jane asked as Page sat down on the couch and looked exhausted.

“About as bad as you'd expect. There were four hundred sobbing kids, and half as many parents.”

“Just what you need right now. Did Brad go with you?”

Page shook her head. “Trygve Thorensen took me. We saw the Senator's wife, looking appropriately grief-stricken and very proper. Frankly, I thought it took a lot of guts for her to be there. Trygve thought she did it for PR, and was playing to the reporters, to make sure everyone knows how innocent she is.”

“Is she?” Jane asked honestly.

“I'm beginning to think we'll never know. Probably no one was at fault, it was just a lot of bad luck and bad timing.”

“I'll say …there were reporters there?”

“TV cameras, and some photographers from the newspapers. I guess it's big stuff because of Mrs. Hutchinson, and it tears your heart out seeing those kids.” Not to mention the parents.

“The piece in the paper I read yesterday seemed to imply, more or less, that it was the Chapman boy's fault. Is that just talk, or is it real? Was he really drinking?”

“Apparently not enough to matter. And I hear Mr. Chapman is planning to sue the paper to clear Phillip's name. As I said, there's no evidence either way to prove whose fault it might have been. Neither his, nor Mrs. Hutchinson's, but he's a kid, and he had half a glass of wine …and two cups of coffee.” She and Trygve had talked it to death, and the story still stayed the same. It was an accident. It was no one's fault apparently. And she didn't blame the Chapmans for wanting to clear their son's name. He was a great kid, and he deserved to die with his fine reputation, if only for their sakes.

By then Andy had spotted her and he came running to meet her. He was wearing his baseball uniform and he looked so cute, she almost cried when she saw him. He looked so normal and healthy, it reminded her of only days before when she had taken him to his game, and everything seemed so simple. Allie wasn't in a coma then, and Brad hadn't confessed that he was cheating.

“And how was your day, Mr. Andrew Clarke?” she asked, beaming at him as he threw his arms around her.

“Great. I scored a home run!” He was pleased with himself, and she was happy to see him.

“You're terrific.”

He was thrilled to see her too, and then he looked up at her worriedly. “Are you going back to the hospital now? Am I staying here?”

“No, you're coming home with me.” She had decided to take a night off, for his sake. She knew how badly he needed it, and she wanted to be there for him. And as long as Allie's condition didn't change, she felt she could do it. She had decided to make dinner for him, more than just frozen pizza, and she wanted to sit down and talk to him, so he didn't feel so neglected.

“Can Dad do a barbecue?” She didn't know if Brad was coming home or staying out again, and she didn't want to promise anything, so she told him he couldn't. “Okay. We'll just have regular dinner then.” He seemed delighted at the prospect, and they went home a few minutes later.

She made hamburgers and baked potatoes for him, and a big green salad with avocados and tomatoes in it, and she was surprised when she heard Brad come in just as they were sitting down to dinner. She hadn't really expected him, but she had made enough to feed him too, just in case he did come home.

“Dad!” Andy shouted excitedly, and Page could see in his little face how desperately he needed contact with them. He was deeply worried.

“What a surprise!” Page said, not quite under her breath, and Brad shot her a dark look.

“Let's not start that, Page,” he said irritably. He had had a long day too, and he had made a point of coming home for dinner, for his son's sake. “Have you got enough?” he asked curtly, glancing at the table set for two, and the dinner she was serving Andy.