“Want to come have a cup of coffee?” She shrugged again, but she followed him out as the nurse watched them. She felt so sorry for her. It had been a long haul, and so far there wasn't much hope her daughter would get any better. She hated cases like that, they were so hard on everyone, especially when it involved kids. Sometimes, she thought to herself, it was simpler if you lost them. But she never would have said that to the parents.

He handed her a cup of coffee from a machine, and she still hadn't said anything. He was getting more and more worried about her. They sat down in the ICU waiting room and her eyes looked huge in her face, and bluer than he had ever seen them.

“What's happening?” he asked gently as she took a slow sip of the hot coffee.

“I don't know … I guess it's all getting to me …Allie …Brad …my mother….”

“Did something happen?” He was trying to figure it out and she wasn't giving him any clues, but he wanted so much to help her.

“Nothing that hasn't happened before. My mother was playing never-never land, just like she always does, and I went nuts, I guess.” She smiled at him and looked a little embarrassed. “Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but I didn't have any choice at the time. I told her that Brad and I were in trouble, which was dumb of me, and she talked about my father.” She wasn't sure how to tell him, and he was afraid to ask her. “My father and I …” she began, and then stopped and took another sip of coffee. “We …uh …had a pretty strange relationship.” She closed her eyes for a long moment then, and started to cry as she explained it to him. She hadn't really wanted to tell him, and yet she wanted to now. She wanted to be honest with him, and she knew it was safe to tell him anything.

“It's all right, Page,” he sensed easily how miserable she was, “you don't have to say anything if you don't want to.”

“No,” she looked up at him, through her tears, “I want to. I'm not afraid to tell you …” She took a breath and went on, “We …uh …he …uh …molested me when I was thirteen …actually he slept with me …he …uh …had intercourse with me, when I was thirteen … it went on for a long time …until I was sixteen …and my mother knew it. Actually,” she seemed to choke on the words, “she forced me to …he'd been sleeping with Alexis for four years before that …my mother was afraid of him. He was a very sick man, and he used to beat her, and she let him. She said we had to 'keep him happy' so he wouldn't hurt us …she used to bring him in to me, and then lock the door behind him.” Page was sobbing as he took her in his arms.

“My God, Page …how awful …how sick …” He would have killed anyone who had done that to his daughter.

“I know. It's taken me years to get over it. I left when I was seventeen. I worked as a waitress to pay for an apartment. My mother said that was a terrible thing to do, that I had betrayed them …I had broken his heart, she said …when he died, for a while, I actually thought I'd killed him.

“Eventually, I met Brad in New York, and we got married and came out here. I found a good therapist, and I made my peace with it. But she's still trying to pretend it never happened. That's what got me so upset. I don't understand how she can do that. I've never understood any of it …how she could know he was doing that, and still pretend that he was decent …she called him a saint tonight, and it made me sick.”

“No wonder you lost it,” he said soberly as he listened. He was stroking her hair, and holding her as she talked, just as she did to Allie. “I'm amazed you even see her.”

“I try not to most of the time, but with Allie's accident it was hard not to let her come out. I knew I shouldn't, but I always think I can play the game with her. The trouble is I just can't. Every time I see her it reminds me of when I was thirteen …she hasn't changed …and neither has Alexis.”

“How did she get out of it?”

“He left her alone once he started with me,” she sighed, and leaned closer to Trygve, knowing she was safe there. “And she got married at eighteen. I was only fifteen then. She ran away with a forty-year-old man. She's still married to him. I don't think he expects much. I think he's gay, and has had a lover for years. He's kind of like a father to her. And I think her answer was to become someone new, new face, new body, new name. David operates on her constantly and she loves it. And she's willing to play the same games as my mother, they both pretend it never happened.”

“Did she ever get therapy?” He was intrigued. It was amazing that Page had survived it.

“I don't think so. She would certainly never mention it to me. But I think if she had, she'd say something. That would make us both survivors of our own little holocaust. But she's still playing the games with them. Actually, I don't think there's much of her left anyway. She's anorexic, bulimic, she's never had kids. She hardly even talks. She's just a showpiece for him, and she looks great in clothes. He spends a lot of money on her, and that keeps her happy.” Page grinned at him then. “We're very different.”

“Sounds like it. You look pretty good in clothes though.”

“Not like that. All she cares about is her face and her body. She's constantly purging herself, starving herself, she's obsessed with being clean, and being the perfect beauty.”

“Sounds like she still has a problem.”

“How could she not?” Page said sadly. But she felt better now that she'd told him.

“I had a feeling the other day that there was a reason why you disliked them so much, if you really did. I was never entirely sure if you were just kidding.”

“I wasn't. It's always a tough call for me. Do I see them and still preserve my sanity by not playing the game with them, or do I stay away from them? It's easier not to see them, but sometimes I have to.”

He nodded, feeling drained just from listening to her, when one of the nurses came and told her there was a call for her. It was probably her mother, she assumed, wanting something. She was certainly not going to refer to their encounter in the kitchen. That much Page knew for sure. But it wasn't her mother, it was Brad, and he sounded frantic.

“Page …” He sounded breathless. “It's Andy.”

“Is he hurt?” Terror ran through her again. Everything seemed so dangerous these days, so lethal. It was as though she was constantly waiting for more bad news, or some disaster to befall someone she loved. “What is it?”

“He's gone.”

“What do you mean? Did you look in his room?” That was ridiculous. How could he be gone? He was probably asleep in his bed with Lizzie, and Brad hadn't seen him.

“Of course I looked in his room,” Brad shouted at her. “He's gone. He left a note.”

“What does it say?” Page glanced nervously at Trygve and held a hand out to him. He took it in his own and held it tightly.

“I don't know …it's hard to read …something about how he knows it's all his fault that we're fighting, and we're angry at him, and he wants us to be happy.” Brad sounded like he was crying. “I just called the police. You'd better come home. They said they'd be here in a few minutes. He must have heard us fighting. Oh God, Page, where do you think he is?”

“I have no idea,” she said, feeling helpless and panicky. “Did you look outside? Maybe he's hiding in the garden.”

“I looked everywhere before I called the police. He's nowhere around the house.”

“Does my mother know?” Not that she would be any help, and Brad sounded irritated when he answered.

“Yes. She said he probably went to a friend's house. At ten o'clock at night, at his age, that's not likely.”

“That sounds about right. Let me guess. And she and Alexis went to bed, and my mother told you it would probably all be fine in the morning.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “At least there are never any surprises.”

“Some things never change.”

“Could you please come home?”

“I'll be right there.” She hung up and looked at Trygve. “It's Andy. He ran away … he left a note about not wanting us to fight anymore, he thinks it's all his fault.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said the words, and he held her. “What if something really awful happens? Kids his age get kidnapped every day.” That was all she needed now. She couldn't have stood one more disaster.

“I'm sure the police will find him. Do you want me to come too?” But she shook her head.

“I don't think you should. There's nothing you can do, and it'll only complicate things.” He nodded in agreement and walked her quickly to her car. He kissed her before she left and squeezed her arm gently.

“It's going to be all right, Page. They'll find him.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Me too.” He waved and she drove away. It had been quite an evening.

The police were there when she got home, and they took all the information down, about who his friends were, when he went to school, what he was wearing. They went outside and looked everywhere with flashlights. Page gave them two pictures of him. And not surprisingly, her mother and Alexis never came out of their bedrooms. The secret of their game was never to face, or admit to, anything unpleasant. And they played it well. Despite the commotion in the house, and lights flashing outside, there was no sound whatsoever from their bedrooms.

The police drove around the neighborhood, they left and came back again to see if he'd turned up, and just as they drove away again, the phone rang. It was Trygve.

“He's here,” he said quietly to Page. “Bjorn was hiding him in his bedroom. I explained to him that that wasn't a good thing to do, and he said that Andy said he never wanted to go home again, he was too sad there.” Page's eyes filled with tears as she listened, and she signaled to Brad.

“He's at Trygve's.”

“Why there?” He looked surprised. The girls were friends, but there were no children Andy's age.

“He and Bjorn are friends. He went there because he was too sad here.” Andy's parents exchanged a long sad glance, and Page went back to talking to Trygve. “I'll come and get him now.” She was grateful that they had found him.

Trygve sighed at the end of the phone, he was relieved as well, and slightly embarrassed at what he had to tell her. “He says he doesn't want to come home.”

She looked startled by what he'd said. “Why not?”

“He says his father wishes that he was the one who was gone away and not Allie. He said he heard you two fighting about him tonight and his Dad was really angry.”

“He was angry at me, not Andy. He thought I had told him about Brad's girlfriend, but I hadn't.”

“He doesn't understand that. And he told Bjorn that he thinks Allie's dead, and you're all lying to him. He says he's sure of it. I'm sorry, Page. I thought you ought to know that.”

“I guess I should have let him see her.”

“That's a tough call. I'd have done the same thing you did. I didn't have any choice with Bjorn, and Chloe was in better shape. Besides, Bjorn is older, and his case is a little different.”

“We'll come and get him.”

“Why don't you let Bjorn and me bring him home? He's having some hot chocolate. I'll bring him home when he's finished.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully, and went to tell Brad what had happened.

“I guess we have to say something to him,” Brad said unhappily.

“I think we have to face it ourselves. We can't go on like this for much longer.” She sighed deeply then. “And I guess I'm going to have to take him to see Allie.” She went to call the police then, to tell them that Andy had turned up at a friend's, and they told her they were glad to hear it.

And half an hour later, he came home with Bjorn and Trygve. He walked into the house looking very sad and very pale, and Page burst into tears when she saw him. She pulled him into her arms and told him how worried they had been, and how much they loved him.

“Please don't ever do that again. Something terrible could have happened.”

“I thought you were mad at me,” he said, crying, glancing up at Brad too, who was fighting back tears of his own, as Trygve and Bjorn stood with them in the kitchen.

“I wasn't mad at you,” Page explained, “and neither was Daddy. And Allie isn't dead. She's very, very sick, just the way I told you.”

“Then why can't I see her?” he asked suspiciously, but this time Page surprised him.

“You will. I'm going to take you tomorrow.”

“You will? For real?” He beamed from ear to ear, he still didn't really understand what he would see there, that she would not talk to him, would not even look like the sister he loved and remembered. But maybe he needed this, maybe he needed reality too, just as she did.