“I don't expect anything. Let's just get Allyson through this, and concentrate on surviving. Why don't we deal with this afterward? We just can't do both things at once.” It was a rational suggestion, but Page was too unnerved to be reasonable at this point, and he understood that.

“And then what? You move out when Allie wakes up … or after the funeral?” she asked, bitter and frightened again. She was bordering on hysterical, but he made no move to console her. He just couldn't. He was too upset himself, and he knew that anything he tried to do would just make it worse now. Now that she knew about Stephanie, he felt he needed to keep a certain distance.

“I don't know what we do, Page. I've been trying to figure it out myself for months, and I haven't gotten anywhere. Maybe you can come up with an answer.” He wasn't ready to divorce her yet, and he wasn't sure what to do about Stephanie, and Stephanie was willing to wait till he sorted his life out. She wasn't pushing him to do anything. But his passion for her was propelling him toward a solution. And he didn't want to live a lie forever, or be consumed by the guilt he felt toward Page, particularly now that it was out in the open.

All Brad knew was that he loved them both, although very differently, and he had allowed himself to fall into an impossible situation. It would be even more impossible now that Page knew, and he could already see how crazed it was going to make her. At least for the past eight months she hadn't suspected anything when he said he was going away on business trips, and sometimes he did, of course, but more often than not, he didn't. He had allowed himself to get involved in a terribly difficult situation. And everyone had the potential for getting badly hurt, Page, Brad, Stephanie, and his own children.

“I just don't think we can deal with this right now, Page. I think we have to keep it together till Allyson gets well, or at least until she's out of danger.”

“And then?” She kept pressing him for answers he didn't have, and making both of them unhappy, but given the circumstances, he really couldn't blame her.

“I don't know, Page … I just don't know yet.”

“Let me know when you figure it all out.” She stood up and looked at him. He was suddenly a stranger. The man she had loved for so long, and slept with so trustingly, had been cheating on her for almost a year now. In a part of her soul, she hated him. In another, she was terrified she would lose him.

“It sounds pathetic to say I'm sorry, I guess …” he said very quietly. He knew he owed her a lot more than that, but suddenly he just didn't have it to give her.

“I think 'inadequate' would be more the word I'd choose. I think you owe me a lot more than 'sorry,' Brad. Don't you?” Tears glistened in her eyes as they looked at each other from across the room. There was hatred in her face, and anger, and more pain than he'd ever seen there.

“I always thought you'd be okay. You're so strong, and you're always so busy. I thought maybe you wouldn't even miss me.” Had she pushed him away? Was it her fault, or his? Had she stopped paying attention? She accused herself, and him, of everything, as she listened to his explanation.

“I guess we're both pretty stupid,” she said caustically. “Or at least I was.”

“You deserve better than this,” he said honestly, and he did too. He deserved to be where he wanted to be, and not here crawling around, apologizing to Page. And yet he knew he owed it to her. But it was a hideous moment in both their lives …that …and Allyson's accident made it a time, he realized, that might easily destroy them.

“We all deserve better than this,” Page said softly, and then left the room to check on Andy.

As she moved around the kitchen, she felt like a robot. She put a pizza in the microwave for Andy and called him inside five minutes later. She was still shaking and felt sick, and every time the phone rang, she was terrified it was the hospital calling to tell her about Allie. Her mind seemed to ricochet between the horror of Allyson's accident and the shock of what Brad had told her.

“How's it going, champ?” she said sadly to Andy as she put his dinner on the kitchen counter for him. Brad was still in the other room, and Page felt as if her whole life had been ended.

“I'm okay,” he assured her. “You look tired, Mom.” He was always so concerned, so kind-hearted and thoughtful. She used to think Brad was that way too, but in the past hour she had seen a duplicitous side of him she had never known was there, and wished she had never seen. She wondered what they would do now.

“I am tired, sweetheart. Allie's pretty sick.”

“I know. But Dad says she's going to be okay.” The gospel according to Saint Dad. And if she died? Like all the other miseries in their life, they would have to face them later.

“I hope so.” Andy looked at her strangely as she said it.

“Don't you think so too? …that she'll be okay, I mean …”

“I hope so” was all she could say to him, and after he finished his pizza, she put him on her lap and held him. He was still small enough to sit there easily, and it was a comfort to both of them. She needed him right now, more than anything, more than ever.

“I love you, Mom.” Everything about him was so open.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said it absentmindedly, not thinking about him, but about Allie, and Brad, and everything that had happened.

She put him to bed after a bath, and read him a story. And then she lay down quietly for ten minutes in their bedroom. She closed her eyes, and tried to fall asleep, but there was too much whirling around in her head, too many terrible things, too much pain, too many questions …about Allyson …about Brad …about their marriage …and life and death, and the meaning of everything. She heard a sound and opened her eyes, and saw Brad standing in the doorway.

“Can I get you anything?” He didn't know what else to say to her. Too much had happened, too much had been said and revealed for them ever to be the same people they had once been to each other. It was devastating to think about it, and impossible to pretend it hadn't happened. “Have you eaten?”

“No, thanks.” She had absolutely no appetite, and for good reason.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen?” She shook her head and tried not to think of what he'd said, but all she could think about now was the woman at the agency, and the eight months he had spent with her. And before that? Who had there been? How long had he been cheating on her? Had there been others? And was it that she was unattractive to him, or did she just bore him?

She realized then that she was still wearing her gardening sweater from the night before, and her oldest jeans, her hair was a tangled mass after her hours in the hospital. She was no competition for a twenty-six-year-old Stanford grad with no responsibilities and no obligations. She wondered what they had done over the weekend.

“Where did you go with her?” She pushed him for more information before he left the room.

“What difference does it make?” He looked annoyed that she was pressing him, and seeing his irritation made Page angry.

“I just wondered where you were when I didn't know where to find you.” What kind of places did he go with her? Page felt totally shut out of his life, and as though he were a total stranger.

“We went to John Gardiner,” he surprised her by answering. It was a tennis ranch in the Carmel Valley. She nodded. But he had been back in Stephanie's apartment in the city by the time he called her. Which was why he had come to the hospital so quickly. He had waited as long as he could, so Page wouldn't suspect where he'd been. But after half an hour he hadn't been able to stand it any longer.

“You should eat something,” he said then, as though to move on to another subject. He was anxious not to discuss his life with Stephanie with her. But Page seemed to want to know all the details, as though in hearing them, she would understand what had happened.

“I'm going to take a bath and go back to the hospital,” she said quietly. There was nothing for her to do at home. Andy was in bed. And she wanted to be with Allie.

“They said you couldn't see her,” Brad said calmly.

“I don't care. I want to be there.”

He nodded, and then remembered something. “What about Andy? Will you be back before morning?”

She shook her head. “You can get him ready for school tomorrow. You don't need me for that.” Or did he? Was that the only use he had for her now? To take care of his children?

“No,” he agreed, his voice sounding sad finally, “but I need you for other things …”

“Oh?” She sounded detached as she looked at him. “Like what? I can't think of a thing now.”

“Page … I love you …” It just sounded like words suddenly.

“Do you, Brad?” she asked from the depths of her sadness. “As far as I can see, I've been kidding myself for a long time …and maybe you have too …maybe it's just as well we found out now.” Although she didn't feel relieved at what she'd discovered, only wounded, hurt to her very soul.

“I'm sorry …” he said softly, and made no move to approach her, which said it all. There was a world between them.

“So am I,” she said, and stood up, looking at him, and then without a word, she walked into her bathroom. She turned on the tub, and closed the door, and once she lay in the bath, the tears ran down her face, as she thought of Brad and Allie. Now she had two people to cry about, she reminded herself. It had sure been a great weekend.





CHAPTER 6

Page spent Sunday night at the hospital, curled up in a chair in the waiting room. But she didn't even notice how uncomfortable the chair was. She scarcely slept, worrying about Allie. The noises of the hospital kept her awake, the smells, and the fear that at any moment her daughter might slip away. It was a relief when, finally, at six the next morning, they let her see her.