“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.