“That looks uncomfortable,” she heard Trygve's voice in an undertone next to her, and she opened her eyes slowly and smiled to see him. She was exhausted by then, it had been an endless day, and Allyson had not improved or regained consciousness after the operation. They didn't really expect her to regain consciousness. But there were important signs they looked for to indicate further complications to the brain. Even though she was in a coma, they tested her constantly. And so far, things were no better. “How was your day?” he asked, as he sat down in the chair next to hers. His hadn't been easy either. Chloe was in a lot of pain, in spite of the medication.

“Not great.” And then she remembered the messages on her machine. They had used up the tape, and it amazed her. “Did you get as many calls from kids today as I did?”

“Probably.” He smiled. “A bunch of them came down here after school, but they wouldn't let them into ICU. I think a few of them tried to see Allie, too, but of course the nurses wouldn't let them.”

“It'll probably do them good …once they're better” …if …when … or maybe never. “Word must have traveled like wildfire at school.” And everyone was devastated about Phillip Chapman.

“One of the kids told me that some reporters showed up at school, to talk to the other kids about Phillip, about what kind of boy he was. He was a big star on the swimming team, got terrific grades, the perfect kid. I guess it makes it a better story.” He shook his head, thinking, as Page did, that either of their daughters could have died just as easily as Phillip.

There had been a big article in the paper that day, about the accident, with photographs, and stories about each of the four young people involved. The main focus of it of course had been on Laura Hutchinson, her devastation over the death of Phillip Chapman. She had refused an interview, but there was a lovely photograph of her, and several quotes from one of the Senator's aides. They had explained that Mrs. Hutchinson was far too upset about the whole event to make any official comment. As a mother herself, she understood only too well the grief of the Chapmans, and the anxieties of the parents of the injured children. The article essentially cleared her name, and without actually saying so, somehow managed to imply that while the young driver hadn't been legally drunk, the group had in fact been drinking. The feeling one got in the end was that the accident was Phillip's fault, although the writer never actually came right out and said it.

“It was very well done,” Trygve said quietly, as they talked. “They never actually accused him of being drunk, but they somehow managed to convey that impression, while saying of course that Mrs. Hutchinson is a mature, upstanding citizen, and an excellent mother. How could she possibly be responsible for the death of one boy, and the near death of three others?”

“You sound as though you don't believe them.” Page sounded worried. She didn't know what she believed anymore. The hospital had said clearly that Phillip was not drunk, and yet the accident had to be someone's fault, or maybe it really didn't matter. Knowing whose fault it was wouldn't whisk Allyson out of the ICU like magic, or repair Chloe's legs. It wouldn't change a thing. The only thing it might change was the eventual lawsuits, and Page couldn't even think about that now. The whole idea of suing someone wouldn't do the kids any good, or bring Phillip back to life. The idea of suing made her sick. It was all much too confusing.

“It's not that I don't believe them,” Trygve answered her, “it's that I know how reporters write. The innuendos, the lies, the way they cover themselves, or develop a story to coincide with their opinions. Political reporters do it all the time. They only report what works with the story they have in mind, and their point of view, or that of their paper, it's not necessarily the whole truth. It's designed to fit a preconceived picture. And that could be happening here. Also Hutchinson's aides were pushing a lot of propaganda to cover her and make her look good. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but it could have been, and they wanted to be damn sure she looked like Mrs. Goodie Two Shoes, Mrs. Perfect Mother and Driver.”

“Do you think it might have been her fault?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But it certainly could have been, just as much as it could have been Phillip's. I spoke to the highway patrol again, and they still maintain that the evidence is inconclusive. If anything, the cars seemed almost equally to blame. The only difference is that Phillip was a kid, he hadn't been driving as long as she had. Boys are assumed to be wild behind the wheel, but not all of them are. And from everything the kids have said, the Chapman boy was a very responsible guy. Jamie Applegate said he had half a glass of wine, and two cups of black coffee. I've driven on a lot more than that. Maybe I shouldn't have. But he was a big kid, half a glass of wine shouldn't have knocked him flat, not followed by two cups of coffee and then later, a cappuccino. But Mrs. Hutchinson said she didn't have a drink all night. So she was older, sober, better known, more respectable, more grown up, and without further evidence, Phillip somehow begins to look guilty. It isn't really fair. I think that's what bothers me. Kids always get a bad rap, even when they don't deserve it. It seems particularly unfair to his family. Why should he get blamed, if no one knows for sure whose fault it was?

“I spoke to Jamie today, and he swears that they weren't drunk, and that Phillip was paying attention. I wanted to blame him at first … I wanted to be mad at someone, and he was the obvious choice. But I'm not so sure he is anymore. And I have to admit, I wanted to kill the Apple-gate kid at first too, for conspiring with Chloe and getting her to lie to me, for getting her into that car in the first place. But he seems like a decent kid, and I've spoken to his father twice on the phone. Jamie is just beside himself over it. He keeps wanting to see Chloe, but I think it's too soon. I told him to wait a few days, and we'll see.

“Are you going to let him see her?” Page was impressed with his sense of fairness. And intrigued by his suspicion of Laura Hutchinson. The truth was that it was probably just what it appeared. An accident. With no one to blame, and too many who had paid too dearly for a moment's distraction, a glance in the wrong direction, the merest move of the hand on the wheel, and tragedy resulting. She wasn't really angry at anyone. She was just desperate for Allyson to survive it.

Trygve nodded in answer to her question about letting Jamie Applegate see Chloe. “I'd probably let him see her. If she wants to see him. I'll leave it up to her when she feels better. She may not even want to see him again. But he's so overwrought over the whole thing, it might do him good to see her, when she's a little better. His father says he's convinced they're all … ah …” Before he spoke, he realized the harshness of his words, and he didn't want to upset Page any further. “He's afraid that they might die, and he feels guilty for surviving. He said as much to me, he kept saying it should have been him instead of Phillip …and instead of Chloe …and Allie. Apparently, he and the Chapman boy had been best friends for years. He's in a terrible state.” And then he glanced at Page again, and gently asked her a question.

“Are you going to the Chapman boy's funeral tomorrow, Page?” He hated to ask her.

She nodded slowly. She hadn't been sure before, but now she thought she really should go. She owed it to them. They had lost their boy. And she had almost lost Allie. But almost was not the same, and her heart ached as she thought of the sorrow they must be feeling.

“It must be awful for them,” she said softly, as Trygve nodded.

“Will Brad go, or do you want me to drive you? I think it's in the afternoon, so the kids can go too. It might be easier not to go alone.” He was dreading it too, as she sighed, thinking of the sheer horror of it, and the pain. She could only pray that they wouldn't have to go through it with Allie.

“I don't know if Brad will go, but I doubt it.” He hated funerals, and she knew that, unlike Trygve, he was very vocal about blaming Phillip for the accident. She doubted that he'd be willing to go to the funeral with her, and with their current situation, it was even less likely.

“I don't know how you begin to survive that,” she said in a whisper, as she tried not to think about it. And then she looked at Trygve again with grief in her eyes. “I'm not even sure how you survive this. I'm beginning to feel like my whole life is coming apart, and it's only been two days. I don't know …what does one do? How do you learn to get through something like this, and not let your whole world fall apart?” There were tears in her eyes as she spoke to him. He felt like an old friend, or an older brother.

“Maybe you don't keep it from falling apart. Maybe it does, and you pick up the pieces later.”

“Maybe so,” she said sadly, thinking of Brad. Trygve seemed almost to read her mind with the next question.

“How's Brad taking it? It must have been quite a shock when he heard in Cleveland.”

For a moment she was tempted to tell him that he'd never been in Cleveland, but that didn't seem fair. She just shook her head and was silent for a long moment. “He hasn't taken it well at all. He's upset and frightened and angry. He blames Phillip for the accident. But in a way, I think he blames me too, for not knowing what she was doing. He hasn't exactly said it, but he implied it.” It was also a way of deflecting the guilt from him. It was a relief to him to blame her for something. “The worst thing,” she turned to him, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears, “is that I'm not sure he's wrong. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe if I'd paid more attention, if I'd been suspicious, or questioned her, if I hadn't believed her …this would never have happened.” She began to sob openly then, from exhaustion and emotion, and he put an arm around her shoulders.