“I …it won't happen again, I'll stay home with Andy tonight.”
“I don't care.” She wheeled to face him then, and the look on her face frightened him. She was so hurt, and so angry, and so determined. Their brief moment of closeness was clearly over. “It will happen again,; and I want the number.”
“Fine. I'll leave it on the pad.”
She nodded and took a sip of the hot coffee.
“What are you doing today?” He assumed she was going back to the hospital, and was surprised to discover that she wasn't.
“I'm going to the Chapman funeral. Do you want to come?”
“Not likely. The little bastard almost killed my kid. How can you go?” He looked incensed and she looked at him with barely concealed contempt and disapproval.
“The Chapmans lost their only son. And nothing proved it's his fault. How can you not go?”
“I don't owe them anything,” he said coldly. “And the lab tests showed he was drinking.”
“But not much. And what about the other driver? Couldn't it be her fault?” Trygve had wondered as much, and so had Page, but not Brad. It was so much easier to blame Phillip Chapman.
“Laura Hutchinson is a senator's wife, she has three children of her own, and she isn't going to run around drunk driving, or being negligent.” He sounded absolutely certain.
“How do you know that?” She wasn't sure of anything anymore, not the Senator's wife, not even her own husband. “How can you be so sure that it wasn't her fault?”
“I'm sure, that's all, and so were the police. They didn't give her a blood test, they obviously didn't think she needed one, or they would have. And they've laid no blame on her.” He clearly believed that.
“Maybe they were impressed with who she was.” They argued about everything these days, and Page was only grateful that Andy wasn't there to hear it. “Anyway, I'm going to the funeral. Trygve Thorensen is picking me up at two-fifteen to take me.”
Brad raised an eyebrow at her. “How cozy.”
“Don't give me that.” Her eyes blazed at him, her fatigue and anger showing. “The two of us have been sitting at that hospital that you hate so much for the past three days, waiting to see if our daughters were going to make it. And Phillip Chapman was driving the car his daughter was in too, but it's not keeping him from showing a little sympathy to the boy's parents.”
“What a great guy he is. Maybe you two can become 'friends,' since I no longer seem to appeal to you.” He was still piqued by her rebuff, although he understood it. But he was irritated by her praise of Trygve.
“Actually, he is a great guy, Brad. He's a good friend. And he's been there for me. He sat there and held my hand last night, when no one knew where you were, and the night of the accident when you were at the ‘John Gardiner’ with your little friend. He's been terrific. And you know what else, he's smart enough to keep his dick in his pants, and think about his kids, and not his sex life. So if you're looking for me to feel guilty or embarrassed, don't bother. I don't think Trygve Thorensen gives a shit about me as a woman, and that's just fine, because I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I just need a friend to be there for me, since I no longer seem to have a husband.”
There wasn't much Brad could say, and he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door. And without another word to her, he slammed out of the house ten minutes later. She wanted to strangle him, she was so mad, but a part of her was sad too. Everything had gone so wrong between them so quickly. It was almost impossible to understand it. The pressure they were under was excruciating, but so much else seemed to be wrong too, and she never knew it. The accident had uncovered everything, and brought its own problems along with it.
She showered and dressed for the funeral then, and Trygve came to pick her up at exactly two-fifteen. He was wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark tie, and he looked serious and very handsome. Page was wearing a black linen suit she had bought in New York the last time she visited her mother.
The service was at St. John's Episcopal Church, and somehow Page hadn't been prepared for the hundreds of kids who would attend, their shining young faces stricken by the loss of their friend, their hearts open for all to see, their grief overwhelming. There was a wonderful photograph of him with the swimming team on the program that the ushers handed out. And then Page realized that the ushers were Phillip's friends from the swim team. She saw Jamie Applegate there too. He looked devastated as he sat between his parents. But they seemed supportive of him. And his father had an arm around his shoulders.