Danielle Steel - Rogue

“You're right.” Blake laughed harder at the memory. “I didn't do that till I was fourteen. I was more interested in staying sober and getting the girls drunk that I went out with. That seemed like a much better plan to me.”

Max shook her head, laughing at him. “Why is it I think that hasn't changed?”

“I don't need to get them drunk anymore,” he confessed with a shameless grin. They had the strangest relationship, like great friends, more than people who had been married for ten years and had three children. He was like the crazy pal she saw two or three times a year, while she was the responsible one, bringing up children and going to work every day. They were night and day.

Dinner arrived promptly at nine o'clock, and everyone was hungry by then. He had ordered it from the best Japanese restaurant in the city, and it was prepared in front of them, with all kinds of flourishes and exotic touches, and a chef who flamed everything, chopped up the shrimp and flipped it in the air and caught it in his pocket. The kids loved it. Everything Blake did or organized was spectacular and different. Even Sam was looking relaxed and happy by the time she left. It was nearly midnight by then, and the kids were watching a movie in the projection room. She knew they'd be up till two or three A.M. It wouldn't do them any harm, she didn't begrudge them a minute of their time with him. They could sleep when they came home to her.

“When are you leaving?” she asked him as she put her coat on, afraid that he would say “tomorrow,” which she knew would upset the kids. They wanted at least a few days with him, particularly not knowing when they would see him again, although Christmas was coming, and he usually managed to spend some time with them during the holidays.

“Not till Sunday,” he said, and noticed the look of relief on her face.

“That's good,” she said softly. “They hate it when you leave.”

“Me too,” he said almost sadly. “If it's okay with you, I want to take them to Aspen after Christmas. I don't have any firm plans yet, but it's a nice time to be there, over New Year's.”

“They'll love it.” She smiled at him. She always missed them when they went away with him, but she wanted them to have a father, and it wasn't easy to manage with him. You had to catch him when he was willing, and able to make plans with them.

“Do you want to have dinner with us tomorrow night?” he offered, as he walked her to the elevator. He still enjoyed spending time with her, he always had. He would have stayed married to her forever. It was Maxine who had wanted out, and he didn't blame her. And he'd had a good time since then. But he loved still having her in his life, and was glad she had never shut him out. He wondered if that would change when she found a serious man, and he never doubted that she would one day. He was surprised it had taken this long.

“I might,” she said, looking relaxed. “See how it goes with the kids. I don't want to intrude.” They needed time alone with their father, and she didn't want to interfere with them.

“We love having you along,” he assured her, and then hugged her goodbye.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she got on the elevator, and waved at him as the doors closed. The elevator shot down fifty floors, and her ears popped as she stood there thinking about him. It was strange. Nothing had changed. She still loved him. She always had. She had never stopped loving him. She just didn't want to be with him anymore. It didn't even bother her that he went out with girls in their twenties. It was hard to define their relationship. But whatever it was, and however strange, it worked for both of them.

The doorman hailed her a cab as she came out of the building. As she rode uptown to her own apartment, she thought about what a nice day it had been. It was strange to find it silent and dark when she walked in. She turned on the lights, walked into her bedroom, and thought of Blake and her children in his insanely luxurious apartment. The one she lived in looked better to her than ever. There was no part of his life that she still wanted. She had no need for that kind of excess and self-indulgence. She was happy for him, but what she had was all she wanted.

For the thousandth time since she left him, she knew she had made the right decision. Blake Williams was every woman's dream, but no longer hers.

Maxine was sound asleep at four A.M. when the phone rang at her bedside. It took longer than usual to wake her up, as she had been sleeping deeply. She often fell into a deeper sleep when her children weren't around. As she glanced at the clock, she hoped that nothing had gone wrong at Blake's apartment. She wondered if Sam had had a nightmare and wanted to come home. She answered the phone automatically, before fully waking up and without thinking.

“Dr. Williams,” she said briskly, to mask the fact that she'd been sound asleep, although who would have expected her to be otherwise at four A.M.?

“Maxine, I'm sorry to call you at this hour.” It was Thelma Washington, the doctor on call for her over the Thanksgiving holiday and weekend. “I'm at New York Hospital with the Andersons. I thought you'd want me to call. Hilary overdosed last night. They found her at two A.M.” She was a bipolar fifteen-year-old with a heroin problem, who had attempted suicide four times in the past two years. Maxine was instantly awake. “We got her in as fast as we could. The paramedics administered naloxone, but it's not looking good.”

“Shit. I'll be right in.” Maxine was already standing up as she said the words.

“She hasn't regained consciousness, and the attending doesn't think she will. It's hard to say,” Thelma filled her in.

“She made a miraculous recovery last time. She's a pretty tough little kid,” Maxine commented.

“She'll have to be. It seems like she took one hell of a cocktail. Heroin, cocaine, speed, and the blood workup shows rat poison. They've apparently been cutting street heroin with some pretty nasty stuff these days. They had two kids die of it here last week. Maxine… don't get your hopes up. I don't mean to sound negative about it, but if she makes it through this, I'm not sure how much of her there'll be left.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for calling me. I'll get dressed and be right in. Where is she?”

“Trauma ICU. I'll be waiting for you here. Her parents are pretty upset.”

“I'll bet.” The poor people had been through it four times with a child who had been difficult since she was two. She was a nice kid, but between her bipolar disease and her heroin addiction, she had been on the fast track to disaster since she was twelve. Maxine had been seeing her for two years. She was the only child of extremely dedicated, loving parents who had done everything they could. There were some kids that, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't help.

Maxine had hospitalized her four times in the last two years, with very little effect. The minute she was discharged from the hospital, she was off and running again with the same disastrous friends. She had told Maxine repeatedly that she couldn't help herself. She just couldn't stay clean, and she claimed that the medications Maxine prescribed for her never took the edge off like what she bought on the street. Maxine had been afraid of this outcome for the last two years.

She was dressed in less than five minutes in loafers, a heavy sweater, and jeans. She grabbed a warm coat out of the closet, picked up her purse, and rang for the elevator. She found a cab immediately, and was at the hospital fifteen minutes after Thelma Washington, her relief doc, had called. Thelma had gone to Harvard with her, was African-American and one of the best psychiatrists she knew. And after school, and over the years of covering each other's practices, they had become friends. Privately or professionally, she knew she could always count on Thelma. They were very similar in many ways, and equally dedicated to their work. Maxine felt completely at ease leaving her patients in her hands. Maxine saw Thelma before she saw the Andersons, and Thelma quickly brought her up to speed. Hilary was in a deep coma, and so far nothing they had administered to her had brought her around. She had done it alone at home, while her parents were out. She hadn't left a note, but Maxine knew she didn't need to. She had often told Maxine that she didn't care if she lived or died. For her, and for others like her, being bipolar was just too hard.

Maxine looked upset as she read the chart, and Thelma stood by. “Jesus, she took everything but the kitchen sink,” Maxine said, looking grim, and Thelma nodded.

“Her mother said her boyfriend dumped her last night, on Thanksgiving. I'm sure that didn't help.” Maxine nodded and closed the chart. All the right things had been done. All they could do now was wait to see what happened. It was no secret to either of them, or to Hilary's parents, that if she didn't regain consciousness soon, there was a good chance she would be brain damaged forever, if she lived, which was still doubtful. Maxine was surprised she had survived what she'd taken.

“Any idea when she did it?” Maxine asked, as the two women walked down the hall together. Thelma looked tired and worried. She hated cases like this. Her own practice was far more mellow than Maxine's, but she liked covering for Maxine. Working with her patients was always a challenge.

“Probably a few hours before they found her, which is the problem. The stuff had plenty of time to work through her system. It's why the naloxone didn't help, according to the paramedics who brought her in.” Naloxone was a drug that reversed the effects of powerful narcotics, if administered soon enough. It made the difference between life and death in overdoses, and had saved Hilary four times before. It had made no difference this time, which was a very bad sign to both physicians.

Maxine went in to see Hilary before she saw her parents. She was on a respirator, with a trauma ICU unit still working on her. She was naked on the table, covered by a thin drape. The machine was breathing for her, she was immobile, and her face was gray. Maxine stood looking at her for a long moment, spoke to the team that had been with her since she got there, and had a word with the attending. Her heart was holding up, although the monitor had reported arrhythmia several times. There was no sign of life in the fifteen-year-old girl, who looked more like a child lying there. Her hair was dyed black, and she had tattoos up and down both arms. Hilary had marched to her own drummer, despite her parents' efforts to convince her otherwise.

Maxine nodded at Thelma, and together they went to see the parents in the waiting room. They had been with Hilary initially until the team asked them to leave. It was too upsetting to her parents to watch what was happening, and the residents and nurses needed room to move.

Angela Anderson was crying when Maxine walked in to see them, and Phil had his arms around her, and had obviously been crying too. They had been through this before, but it didn't get easier, only harder, and they were acutely aware that Hilary might have gone too far this time.

“How is she?” they both asked in unison, as Maxine sat down with them and Thelma left the room.

“About the same as when she came in. I just saw her. She's putting up a good fight. She always does.” Maxine smiled sadly at them, it made her heart ache to see the agony in their eyes, and she was sad too. Hilary was such a nice girl. So troubled, but so sweet. “There were some poisons in the drugs she took,” Maxine explained. “That happens on the streets. Mostly, I think our problem is that it all had time to work through her system before she was found. And there's only so much a heart can take. She took a very heavy dose of some very powerful drugs.” It wasn't news to them, but she had to give them some kind of warning that this might not have a happy ending. There was nothing else she could do. The trauma team was doing everything they could.

Thelma brought them all coffee a few minutes later, and then Maxine went back to see Hilary again. Thelma followed her out, and Maxine told her to go home. There was no point in both of them being up all night. Maxine was going to stay. She thanked Thelma before she left, and stuck around to see how Hilary's heart was doing. Its beating was becoming more irregular, and the resident said her blood pressure was coming down, none of it good signs.

For the next four hours, Maxine went back and forth between the Andersons and their daughter, and at eight-thirty, Maxine decided to let them come in to the unit to see her. She was well aware by then that it might be the last time they'd see their daughter alive. Hilary's mother sobbed openly as she touched her, and bent to kiss her, and her father stayed to be with his wife, but he could hardly bear to look at their child. The respirator was still breathing for her, but it was barely keeping her alive.