They let Page sit with her that night, and she never moved, she just sat there holding her hand, watching her face, and praying.

“I love you,” she whispered from time to time. “I love you,” as though she were determined for Allie to hear her. And when the sun came up, the swelling of her brain had gotten no worse, and her breathing continued mechanically on the respirator. She hadn't improved, but she was still with them. Everything could change again in a matter of moments, and they suggested that Page stay in close touch if she went home, but they assured her that they felt that for the moment, Allyson was out of immediate danger, and she was heavily sedated to combat the effects of the operation.

It was six-thirty in the morning when Page left ICU, after gently kissing her child, and as she walked out into the hall, every inch of her body was stiff and aching. And she was amazed when she saw Trygve waiting for her there. He was asleep in a chair, but he hadn't moved in hours. He had wanted to be there with her in case Allyson died, and Brad had never called. He was a damn fool, Trygve thought, but he would never have said it to Page. He was just grateful, with her, that Allie had made it through the night, and survived yet another disaster.

“Come on, I'll take you home. You can leave your car here. I'll bring you back later.”

“I can take a cab if I have to,” she said appreciatively. She was too tired to walk, let alone drive, and she followed him out to his car in the parking lot, relieved that Allyson had survived another night. If only she would live, Page thought to herself as she slipped into the front seat of his car. If only they could will her to make it.

“You were very brave,” Trygve said softly as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He gave her shoulders a squeeze and patted her hand, and then started the car.

“I was so scared, Trygve … I wanted to run and hide,” she confessed. It was all so much worse than anything she had ever dreamed, worse than anyone's worst nightmare.

“But you didn't. And she made it. Just take it step by step,” he said wisely, as he drove her home. When they got there, he glanced over at her, and saw that she was sound asleep, and he hated to wake her. He shook her gently, and she stirred, and then looked at him with a slow smile.

“Thank you …for being such a good friend.”

“I wish we had become good friends some other way,” he said ruefully, “like the swim team, or your mural.” And then he remembered. “You still want to go to Phillip's funeral today?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. She was sure by then that Brad would not go with her.

“I'll pick you up at two-fifteen. Try and get some sleep between now and then. You really need it.”

“Pll do my best.” She touched his hand, and got out, and he watched her let herself into the house with her key. There was no one there, and it was seven o'clock in the morning.

Trygve waved and drove away, as Page gently closed the door, wondering what she would say to Brad when she saw him. There seemed to be nothing left to say, except good-bye. Or had they already said it?





CHAPTER 7

It was seven o'clock in the morning as Page stood in her living room, trying to decide whether to go to bed, or go next door to pick up Andy at Jane Gilson's. She was bone tired, and desperately in need of sleep, but she knew that Andy needed her too, so she washed her face and combed her hair, and then listened to her messages on the phone machine in the kitchen. There were none from Brad, which suddenly made her furious. How could he do this now, with Allyson barely clinging to life? And what was wrong with Stephanie that she would let him?