Eventually, she and Andy left before dinnertime and went home and had a quiet evening together. They rented videos, ate popcorn, slept in the same bed, and she had cooked him his favorite dinner.
The next day was Memorial Day and Trygve organized a barbecue, and invited four or five of Chloe's friends, Jamie Applegate naturally, and of course Page and Andy.
“They're nice kids,” Trygve said, as he sat down next to her with a glass of wine, still wearing his apron. He looked tired. He'd been up a lot in the night with Chloe.
“They are, and they're so happy to have her back.” Page smiled at them, wishing Allie were there too. Being with Chloe was always bittersweet for her, but Trygve knew that.
“What an experience this has been. For all of us,” he sighed. “Sometimes it feels like none of us will ever be the same again. No one it touched was left the same.” Least of all Phillip and Allie. “What about you?” He looked at her with a gentle smile. “How are you doing?” He had seen less of her during the two weeks since her separation. And he had missed her terribly. But he knew how traumatic it had been for her when Brad left, and he wanted to give her time to adjust. She had noticed it and she was grateful for it, although she'd missed him too, and the warmth of their friendship and flirtation. He was always sensitive to her needs, without her having to say anything about it.
“I'm okay,” she said quietly. It had been even harder than she'd expected.
“I've missed you,” he said, watching her.
“Me too,” she said softly. “I didn't think it would be like this. It's lonely, it's sad. In some ways, it's a relief. It got so bad at the end it was like a constant pain. This is better, but it's sad anyway. I feel pretty brave and new sometimes, and at other times, I feel so …” She looked for the right word. “…unprotected.” She had been married for so long that it felt odd to be alone now.
“You're not unprotected though. You're as safe as you were before. You're the one who was taking care of everyone. Brad wasn't.” It was true, and she had only just begun to understand that. He had scarcely even been to see Allie in the past two weeks. Only once or twice a week. But at least he was seeing Andy.
“I guess I'm starting to figure that out. It's odd though. After sixteen years of marriage, you're back where you started, minus some towels, and some silver, and the better toaster.” She smiled. It was worse than that, of course, but somehow the things Brad had taken had irked her.
“That hurts, doesn't it?” He laughed. “Dana took exactly half of everything we owned. One out of every pair of lamps we owned, half the kitchen chairs, half the pots and pans, half the silverware. Now nothing I own matches, and every time I go to cook an omelet or have guests to dinner I swear, because whatever it is I'm looking for is in England.”
“I know.” She grinned painfully. “In the beginning he said he didn't want anything. Now it turns out Stephanie must not be as well equipped as he first thought. Every few days I come home and find something gone, and a note explaining that he's taken this or that 'against his share.' I don't know when he comes to the house, but I'm never there. And yesterday he took half the silver flatware my mother gave me.”
“You'd better watch out. Those things get nasty.”
“I guess so …pot holders …cooking pots …skis …it's weird the stuff that it boils down to in the end, isn't it? It's all so petty. Kind of like a garage sale for the emotions.”
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.