“What happened?” It was a pathetic croak from deep in Page's throat.
“A head-on collision on the Golden Gate Bridge. They were hit by an oncoming southbound vehicle on their way into Marin County.”
“Into Marin? From where? That can't be.” She was willing to quibble about where Allyson had been, maybe if she won the argument, it would mean that she had never been there and nothing had happened to her after all.
“I'm afraid it was. She's in Marin General now, Mrs. Clarke. You need to get there pretty quickly.”
“Oh God …thank you …” She hung up without saying more, and frantically dialed information. They gave her the number for Marin General, and she asked for the emergency room. Yes, Allyson Clarke was there, yes, she was still alive, and no, they were unable to give her any further information. The doctors were all busy with her, and couldn't talk to Page. Allyson Clarke was listed in critical condition.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and her hands shook violently as she dialed her neighbor. She had to leave Andy with someone …she had to call …had to get dressed …had to get there …The phone answered after four rings, as Page sobbed silently, praying that Allyson would be alive when she got there.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice finally answered.
“Jane? Can you come?” Page sounded breathless and felt as though she couldn't get enough air. What if she fainted? What if …what if Allyson died … oh God, no …please, no …
“What's wrong?” Jane Gilson knew her well, and she had never known Page to panic. “What is it? Are you sick? Is someone there?” Had there been an intruder?
“No,” it was a terrible mouse squeak of terror, “it's Allie. She's had an accident …head-on … she's in Marin General, in critical condition …Brad's gone … I have to leave Andy …”
“Oh my God …I'll be there in two minutes.” Jane Gilson hung up, and Page ran to her closet and tore on jeans and the first sweater she could find. It was the old blue one she wore to garden in, covered with holes and spots and permanently faded. But she didn't even see it as she put it on, and slipped her feet into loafers. She never thought of combing her hair, and then she ran to the pad in the den where Brad always left the name and number of his hotel when he traveled. She knew she'd find it there. She'd wait to see Allyson first, before she called, in case the news was better than she feared. But at least she could call him from the hospital, after she saw her. But this time, there was no hotel and no number. Nothing. There was a blank page. For the first time in sixteen years, he had forgotten to leave the information. It was like fate playing a bad joke on them, but she didn't have time to worry about it now. She could call someone from Brad's office and figure something out later. Right now she had to get to the hospital and see her baby.
She grabbed her bag as the front door rang, and she ran to let in Jane Gilson. Jane's arms went around her old friend. She had known the Clarkes since they'd moved in, before Andy was born, and Allyson since she was seven.
“She'll be all right …you know she will. Page, calm down. It probably all sounds worse than it is. Just take it easy.” She would have liked to drive her there herself, but her own husband was gone. He had gone camping with her kids, both home from college for their spring vacation. And there was no one else to leave with Andy. He was still sound asleep in his mother's bed, completely unaware of what had happened. “What do you want me to tell him when he wakes up, in case you're not back yet?”
“Just tell him Allyson got sick, and I had to go to the hospital with her. I'll call you from there and let you know what's happening. And if Brad calls, for God's sake, Jane, get his number.”
“Right …now go …and drive safely.”
Page ran out into the warm night, her hair flying, her purse under her arm, jumped into the car, and a moment later she shot out of the driveway. She tried to talk to herself all the way, telling herself to stay calm, to breathe, alternately reassuring herself that Allyson would be okay, and begging God that she would be. She still couldn't believe it had happened.
The hospital was eight minutes away, and she parked in the first space she found. She forgot her keys in the car, and ran into the building. The emergency unit was alive with lights, and people running around, dashing into rooms, and half a dozen people sat in a corridor, waiting for treatment. A woman in labor walked by looking uncomfortable, leaning heavily against her husband. But all Page wanted to see was her little girl …her baby. She noticed the reporters then, two of them taking notes from a highway patrolman.
She went to the desk and asked a nurse where she might find her, and the woman's face sobered instantly as she glanced up at Page. She had a pretty face and kind eyes, and as she looked at Page, she felt a wave of sympathy for her. Page was dead white and shaking.
“You're her mother?”