Meant To Be (36 page)

Daniel knew that was Frank’s concession for borrowing the car and not asking questions. He never left work early on his own account.

“Wh—” Daniel started.

“Don’t, okay? Just don’t. I’ll see you later.”

Daniel didn’t even want to be near him anymore. “Fine. Whatever.” He slammed the door and took a step. His eyes clamped shut.

“Shit.” He patted his pockets. He’d forgotten his phone and wallet. As he whirled to see if Frank had driven away, he heard it. The unmistakable screech. Tires against pavement. Metal on metal. Loud. Close. Then nothing.

****

Fluorescent lights whizzed by overhead. Daniel was flat on his back. The hospital scent made him cringe. People scurried by, babbling words he couldn’t catch. His thoughts moved in slow motion. Freezing. Throbbing. Dizzy.

He tried to focus.
I was in the car with Frank.
Thinking hurt.

“Sir, can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”

He realized the voice was speaking to him.

“Yes.” His jaw ached from the single word.

He tried to follow the barrage of questions. Yes, he could move his legs. Yes, he could feel his hands. Yes, he could follow the light with his eyes, though it hurt like absolute hell.

“You’re going to feel a small pinch,” a nurse said. A scorching sting zipped into his cheek. “We need to get you good and numb before we stitch you up.” She sounded too cheerful considering the circumstances.

His eyes fluttered. He struggled to concentrate.

“Where’s Frank?” He watched the nurses exchange glances and shrugs.

“I don’t know, sir. We’re still trying to figure out who you are. Can you tell us your name?”

“Daniel Gardner.”
Why don’t they know my name? Surely they’d looked at my wallet. My wallet.
He remembered getting into the car that morning. He’d put his wallet on the center console and hooked his phone into the car charger; and he’d left them there.

“Daniel Gardner?” The nurse looked up from the chart, her eyes wide.

“Yes,” he said.

“I thought that was the name of….” She shot a look at one of the other nurses and hurried out of the room.

“The name of who?” he asked, but she was gone. “Why did she? Who?” He tried to sit up. His head reeled.

“I’m sorry, sir. You need to lie still. Try to relax.”

He saw her insert a syringe into the IV bag hanging above his head. An icy sensation slithered through the vein in his arm, and he slipped into darkness again.

****

Marienne was dropping Ella off at a friend’s house when her cell phone rang.

“Hello?” she said.

“It’s Justine. Did Daniel drive Frank to work today?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?” Justine asked.

The tone in Justine’s voice was scaring her. “I’m dropping Ella at Julia’s house.”

“There’s been an accident,” Justine said. “I don’t know much, but a police officer called and told me Daniel was in a car accident, and I need to get to the Hoboken Medical Center. You haven’t heard from Frank?”

“No.” Marienne’s heart pounded.

“You’re sure they were together?”

“Yes.” She started to shake. “I can be at your house in ten minutes. We’ll drive together.”

Marienne’s mind was a blur. She explained to Julia that there was an emergency, and she’d be in touch as soon as possible.

She raced to Justine’s. They drove to Hoboken in a state of controlled panic. Justine had no new details, and Marienne still hadn’t received a call. Neither Daniel nor Frank were answering their cells.
What does that mean? What could that mean?

Marienne had seen Daniel pull into her driveway that morning, had heard Frank get into the car.
Why wouldn’t we both have been called? Why won’t either of them pick up their phone?
The drive seemed to take an eternity.

They ran into the emergency room and were greeted almost instantly by two police officers.

They introduced themselves then guided Justine and Marienne toward a private room down the pale green corridor.

“Please sit down,” one officer said. They sat.

“Mrs. Gardner, we regret to inform you that your husband was killed this morning in a car crash.”

Marienne breathed the word, “No.”

“What did you say?” Justine asked.

No, no, no.

The officer continued. “The car was totaled, a truck ran a red light as he was turning. He probably didn’t even see it. He was killed instantly. We’re very sorry.”

“No, no, no,” the breathy chant hummed out of her.
This can’t be happening.

Justine looked puzzled, her brow furrowed, no other emotion on her face. “What about the other man in the car?” Justine asked.

“I’m sorry ma’am. There was no one else in the car. Your husband was alone. We found his cell phone, and the home number matched the info from the car registration. We contacted you immediately, but he was already gone.”

“No,” Justine said, far louder than Marienne’s continued whispers. “There was another man in the car. This makes no sense.”

No sooner did she speak the words than another officer and a doctor entered the room and motioned the two officers into the hallway. “Excuse us a minute.” They stepped outside the room.

“This makes no sense,” Justine said.

Marienne couldn’t speak. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Her head shook back and forth, wordlessly repeating “no.”

The officers came back into the room, accompanied by the doctor who had interrupted them.

“Mrs. Gardner, Mrs. Valeti, I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake.”

“Mistake?” Justine said, her voice icy enough to further chill the already cold room. “What kind of mistake?”

She glanced at Marienne, her eyes raced back and forth between her and the officers.

“Mrs. Gardner, your husband Daniel is okay. He’s here in the hospital. I just worked on him. He has a concussion and a gash on his forehead, but he’ll be fine.”

Marienne stared at them as she processed what he said.
Daniel is okay. He’s okay.
The words echoed through her mind.

“Wait,” Justine said. “You told us he was killed on impact. You said there was one person in the car, and he was killed on impact.”

The officers and doctor shifted their eyes from Justine to Marienne.

“The driver was killed on impact, ma’am, but your husband was not driving his car.”

It took a moment for what they were saying to fall into place.
Daniel’s okay. He’s okay. It wasn’t Daniel.
Marienne turned the words over in her brain.
It wasn’t Daniel.
Then it hit her.

It was Frank.

The room started to spiral as her eyes rolled up in her head, and she hit the floor.

Chapter Forty-Two

Marienne heard voices all around her.

“Marienne.”

“Mrs. Valeti.”

“Get her some water.”

Her brain felt ice cold then started to tingle, like the pins and needles of a sleeping limb awakening.

She tried to focus. So many faces, hovering over her. The officers. A nurse. And Justine. They all looked so concerned. Even Justine, who never seemed concerned about anything, looked totally bereft. And then she remembered.
Frank is dead.
It wasn’t a question.

She knew.

It wasn’t Daniel; it was Frank.

The next few hours passed as a blur. Questions. Papers. Sympathetic glances. Glasses of water. Phone calls to Julia and Susanna and Ruth. The hospital staff buzzed around Marienne in a constant swirl. Justine had been allowed to go see Daniel, and Marienne had agreed to meet her in the waiting area. One of the officers accompanied her and sat with her until Justine came sweeping down the hall.

“He’s okay.” Justine seemed to read the question in Marienne’s eyes. “He’s only allowed one visitor at a time, but you can go see him now.”

Marienne could only manage a nod.

“I’ll wait here,” Justine said, her voice calm and somehow warmer than usual.
Pity? Sympathy?
It didn’t matter. All she could think about was seeing that Daniel was, in fact, all right.

She moved down the corridor like she was wading through mud, wanting nothing more than to run, but unable to move at anything faster than an annoyingly slow-motion crawl. The air felt thick, and try as she might she could not draw in a deep breath. The room numbers crept by. Room fifteen. That was the room they’d told her.

She rounded the corner, and there he was. Half-upright in the hospital bed, blue striped gown, huge white bandage covering the left side of his forehead, deep purple circles beneath both eyes, dark red streaks trailing down his left cheek, but alive. Very much alive. Relief rushed through her with such force that she catapulted herself into the room and flung her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel whispered as he held her.

“I’m so glad you’re all right.” Her breaths came in gasping puffs as she clung to him, but she was too overwhelmed to cry.

****

Daniel signed the last of his discharge papers and made his way down the long corridor to the waiting room to meet Justine.

“Ready?” she asked, a softness in her voice he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

They drove in a silence. Even their house seemed quieter than usual.

“Do you want to shower or something?” Justine asked.

“Yeah.” Without thinking he ascended the stairs.

The hot water steamed up the bathroom as he stripped off his clothes. His body ached; his head pulsated with the combination of thoughts, pain and grief. As he stepped under the hot spray and felt it cascade down over his body he was finally able to feel everything he’d been holding back, and tears began to pour down his face.

Drained, but more settled, Daniel dressed then headed back downstairs. Again he found Justine waiting for him. She sat on the couch, legs crossed, long fingers clasped together.

“Come.” Her voice was still gentle. “Sit down.”

He took a seat on the ottoman.

“I was watching her,” she said, and he knew she was speaking about Marienne. “I was looking right at her when she realized Frank was dead.” Justine bit her lip and twisted the ring on her manicured finger. “I saw her reaction. I saw it all in her face in that one split second. The relief of realizing you were okay, and then the horror when it hit her that it was Frank. I’ve never seen anyone go through such a range of feelings in an instant like that. Joy, relief, grief, pain—all at once. It took my breath away, and then I realized I didn’t really feel any of it myself.” Justine looked into his eyes.

He continued to stare.

“I can only imagine how that must sound, so bitchy, the ‘ice princess’,” she said.

Daniel flinched at her use of the name he’d called her in their last fight.

“And I don’t mean I didn’t feel anything, because I did. I went through all the same emotions, but not the same way. Not like she did. And it hit me. I’ve never felt about anyone the way she feels about Frank. Or the way she feels about you.” She shifted on the couch. “You’ve been saying it for years now, that you and I don’t have the right mix, that we’re missing something. All this time I’ve been so angry with you, blaming you for not living up to what I saw as your potential, as our potential, thinking that if you’d just change or do things my way we’d be fine. But it was bullshit. It was an excuse. We’re not right for each other, and it’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault, it’s just true. We don’t have that. And I think we both deserve that, so for both our sakes, I’m going to let you go.” Her eyes met his, kind and accepting.

Daniel leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, lingering for an extra few seconds as he pressed his lips against her. He knew it was probably the last moment of closeness they would ever share.

As he pulled away he squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he said, though it didn’t nearly capture all he wanted to say.

“You should go,” Justine said, in a rare moment of selflessness. “She needs you.”

Daniel didn’t wait to hear it a second time. In one swift movement he was up and out the door.

****

Daniel knocked on Marienne’s front door, but there was no answer. Her car sat in the driveway, and he felt certain she was home. He knocked once more then tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He stepped inside the house, not wanting to startle her, but desperate to see her.

“Marienne?” He peered into the front room. The house remained silent. He walked into the kitchen and was about to call her name again when he heard the sound of water rushing through the pipes in the ceiling, and he knew. She was in the shower, crying.

He strode up the stairs, without thinking, and knocked on the closed bathroom door.

“Marienne.”

There was no reply. He knocked and called again. Nothing answered other than the muted whir of the shower. He raked his hands through his hair, cringing from both frustration and the pain in his forehead. “Look,” he yelled through the closed door, not caring anymore about boundaries or crossing lines, for once saying what he wanted to say. “You’re not alone. I know you think you are, but you’re not. You need to talk, you need to cry, and you have me.”