“Let me tell you something, Brad. I'm not leaving Allie more than I have to until we know if she'll make it, or until she dies. And if she does …” Tears filled Page's eyes as she said the words, but her voice didn't waver. “I'm going to be there with her, holding her hand, and holding her as she leaves this world, just as I did when she entered it. I'm not going to be at home, or with you, unless you're at the hospital too, or even with Andy. But at least I'm not with some floozie somewhere, trying to pretend this hasn't happened.” She turned away from him then. She couldn't stand the look on his face, which told her that he had already left them.

“Page.” She turned to look at him then, when she heard the tears in his voice, which surprised her. He sat down heavily in a chair, and dropped his face into his hands. “I can't stand seeing her like that. It's like she's already gone … I can't stand it.” Page couldn't understand what made him think he had a choice. She couldn't stand it either. But she knew she had to. For Allie.

“But she's not gone,” Page said quietly, wanting to comfort him, but afraid to come any closer. There was so much between them now, so much pain and loss and disappointment. She no longer trusted him, or believed in him. She hardly knew who he was now. “She still has a chance, Brad. You can't let go of that till she does.”

“She'd be better off dead than a vegetable, Page, and you know it.”

“Don't say that!” she said vehemently. She had never given up easily, and she couldn't understand his attitude now. It was as though he wanted the easy way out, even for Allie, even if it meant losing her, or giving up. Page just couldn't do that.

“I don't know …” he went on, looking and feeling guilty for everything he was feeling. But he just couldn't help it. “When I saw her, I just couldn't imagine her pulling out of this, and I don't want her to be a vegetable for the rest of her life …the things they talk about …about comas …and spasticity …and loss of motor skills …and brain …forebrain …brain stem …how can you listen to all that and still think she's going to be normal?”

“Because there's still hope for her. Maybe it won't be easy …maybe she won't make a total recovery …hell, maybe she won't even live …but if she does …” Her eyes filled with tears again. “…But if she does … we have to help her.”

He looked at Page in despair, crying softly. “I can't … I can't do this, Page …” He was desperately scared, and Page knew it. She came to stand next to him then, and put her arms around him, as he leaned his head against her. She gently stroked his hair, and wished neither of them had come so far on the road to destruction. But it couldn't be erased, just like the accident couldn't be erased for Allie. “I'm so scared,” he whispered as he leaned his head against her breasts. “… I don't want her to die …but I don't want her to live like that, Page … I can't even stand to see it …I'm sorry about last night … I shouldn't have disappeared like that …but I just couldn't face it.” She nodded, understanding what he felt, but it didn't make it any easier for her. He wanted to run away from it, and he had. But it left her all alone, to face the nightmare that was happening to Allie. “What if she dies?” He looked up at her with anguished eyes, and she took a deep breath as she thought of it, and tried to face it.

“I don't know,” she said softly, “I thought she would last night …but she didn't. We have another day …another hour … we just have to pray.” He nodded, wishing he had her strength. He still wanted to run away, and Stephanie made it so easy for him to do that. She felt sorry for him, and she let him escape the horror of what was happening to his child. She let him think that he couldn't help anyway. He had told her Page was good at handling it, and she had urged him to let her. But when he saw Page struggling with the pain of it, he felt consumed with guilt, and he knew he was wrong to fail her.

And as he leaned against her, he felt a deep ache of longing for her, and a stirring that he knew would bring them closer. He put his arms around her, and tried to pull her down on his lap so he could kiss her. But she stiffened instantly and looked down at him in outrage.

“How could you?” After all that had come to light since the accident, she couldn't imagine being physically close to him again. Surely not now. And very probably never.

“I need you, Page.”

“That's disgusting,” she said, and meant it. He had Stephanie. What more did he want? A harem? Before she had known, it was different. But now she just couldn't. He kissed her anyway and there was a frantic quality to his passion. But it did nothing to soften Page's feelings toward him. If anything, she felt more distant. Suddenly he had become a stranger. He belonged to someone else, and not to her now.

She pulled away firmly, and he was out of breath, as she took a step backward. “I'm sorry,” she said, and walked away from him, leaving him looking angry and feeling foolish. He knew it was wrong to be doing this, to be hurting her, and clinging to Stephanie, but just as she had said, he was making all the wrong decisions.

He came to find her a little while later in the kitchen. She was making herself a cup of coffee, and she didn't turn around when she heard him walk into the kitchen behind her.

“I'm sorry. I got carried away. I guess it's inappropriate, given everything that's happened.” It was particularly incredible to realize that only a week before they had been making love, as though nothing were wrong, and she had had no idea that he had a lover. But now all of that had changed. And given the importance of his relationship with Stephanie, she didn't want him to touch her. It might have been different if he'd been consumed with regret, and promised to end it. But there was no such promise offered. If anything, it was ending between them. He seemed to want it that way. And now everything was out in the open, just as he had disappeared the night before, in spite of their needing him, or a possible emergency, or even just because of Andy's feelings. Stephanie came before all of them. The realization of that had hit Page like a ten-ton stone, and she couldn't ignore it.

“I think you ought to give me her number. If anything happens, and you're there, I should know how to reach you.” She said it without turning around and looking at him, and he didn't see the tears in her eyes when she said it.

“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.

They played all the music that the kids loved too, and Page felt tears instantly fill her throat as she heard it. There were at least three or four hundred young people in the church, and she knew Allyson would have been there too, if she hadn't been in the hospital in a coma.

And then, looking very dignified, and overwhelmed with grief, Phillip's parents walked in and took their seats in the front pew. There was another much older couple with them, Phillip's grandparents, and just seeing them made one cry. The power of his loss was so obvious just from their faces.

The minister spoke very movingly about the mysteries of God's love, and the terrible pain we feel at the loss of a loved one. He spoke of what an extraordinary young man Phillip had been, how admired by everyone, what a bright future he'd had before him. Page could hardly stand listening as she sobbed, trying not to think of what they would say if Allie died. It would be much the same thing. She was loved and admired by all. And the pain of her loss would be beyond bearing.

Mrs. Chapman cried openly through the entire ceremony, and the school choir sang “Amazing Grace” at the end of the service. And then everyone was invited up to the altar, for a moment of special prayer, and a last tribute to their friend. Mostly, the young people went, in groups or alone, crying, and holding hands, as they placed flowers on Phillip's casket. Everyone in the church was sobbing by then, and Page felt overwhelmed as she looked around her at the devastated young faces. It was then that she saw Laura Hutchinson, crying softly in a pew a few feet away. She seemed to have come alone, and she seemed as moved as everyone. Page stared at her for a long time, but she could see nothing more than a deeply affected mourner. Surprisingly little was said. Everyone looked dazed. It was just too painful.