“But it's not fair …why did I walk away from it, and they …”
“Sometimes it just happens like that. You have to be very grateful.” But all Jamie Applegate felt was guilt. He didn't want Phillip to be dead …or Chloe and Allyson to be so badly hurt …why did he only have a little bump on his head? Why couldn't it have been him behind the wheel instead of Phillip?
“Is someone taking you home?” Trygve asked him gently, unable to be angry at him, in the face of what had happened.
“My father'll be here in a minute. But I saw you sitting here, and I just wanted to say … to tell you …” He glanced from Trygve to Page, and started crying again.
“We know.” Page reached up and squeezed his hand, and he bent to hug her, and she found herself sobbing as she embraced him. His father finally came for him, and there was anger, and tears, and reproaches. Jamie's father, Bill Apple-gate, was understandably upset by what had happened, but also relieved that Jamie had survived it. He had cried when they told him Phillip Chapman had died, but he was also deeply grateful that his own child hadn't. He was a respected man in the community, and Trygve had met him a few times at school events and sports games.
He talked to Page and Trygve for a while, piecing together what had happened, and he apologized on behalf of Jamie for the deception. But they all knew it was too late for apologies, it was too late for anything, except surgery, and miracles, and prayers. They all knew that. And Bill Applegate said he'd be in close touch with them, to check on Allyson and Chloe. And before they left, he also asked Jamie if they'd been drunk, and Jamie continued to insist that they weren't, and for some reason, they all believed him.
Trygve looked at Page after the Applegates left, and shook his head. “I feel sorry for him …except a part of me is still so angry.” He was angry at everyone, Phillip for getting them into the accident, Chloe for lying to him, and the other driver, if it was her fault. But who knew what had really gone on? Who would ever know? The head highway patrolman had explained to him a short while before that the force of the collision had been so monumental that it was going to be next to impossible to determine who was at fault, and from the position of the cars, they couldn't tell for sure who had slipped over the line or why. The blood tests showed alcohol in Phillip's blood, but not enough to consider him drunk. And the Senator's wife had appeared to be sober, so they hadn't even bothered. They could only assume that Phillip had gotten distracted, maybe by Allyson, and perhaps the accident had been his fault after all. But nothing would ever be certain.
All Page could think of was the condition that Allyson was in, and how badly she wanted to see her. It was another hour before the nurse approached her again. The neurosurgeons were ready to see her.
“Can I see Allyson?”
“In a minute, Mrs. Clarke. The doctors would like to see you first, so they can explain her condition to you.” At least there was still something to explain, and as she stood up, Trygve looked at her with a worried expression. He was a good friend, they had met at a thousand school events, sports teams, and an occasional picnic, and although they had never been close friends, she had always liked him, and their daughters had always been bosom buddies, ever since the Clarkes had moved to Marin County.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked, and she hesitated, and then nodded. She was terrified by what they were going to say, and even more so of seeing her daughter. She wanted to see her more than anything, but she was desperately afraid of what she would have to face when she saw her.
“Do you mind?” Page whispered apologetically as they hurried down the hall to where the neurosurgical team was waiting for them.
“Don't be silly,” Trygve said as they began to run. They looked like brother and sister as they hurried down the hall, both of them so blond and Scandinavian-looking. He was a pleasant man, with healthy good looks, and a gentle manner. It was easy to be with him. She had never felt as comfortable with anyone. They were partners in disaster.
The door to the conference room looked ominous as they pushed their way through, and there were three men in surgical gowns and caps waiting around an oval table. Their masks were down around their necks, and Page noticed with a shudder that one of them still had blood on his gown, and she prayed that it wasn't her daughter's.
“How is she?” She couldn't restrain the words, it was all she wanted to know. But the answer was not as simple as the question.