She nodded and took a sip of the hot coffee.

“What are you doing today?” He assumed she was going back to the hospital, and was surprised to discover that she wasn't.

“I'm going to the Chapman funeral. Do you want to come?”

“Not likely. The little bastard almost killed my kid. How can you go?” He looked incensed and she looked at him with barely concealed contempt and disapproval.

“The Chapmans lost their only son. And nothing proved it's his fault. How can you not go?”

“I don't owe them anything,” he said coldly. “And the lab tests showed he was drinking.”

“But not much. And what about the other driver? Couldn't it be her fault?” Trygve had wondered as much, and so had Page, but not Brad. It was so much easier to blame Phillip Chapman.

“Laura Hutchinson is a senator's wife, she has three children of her own, and she isn't going to run around drunk driving, or being negligent.” He sounded absolutely certain.

“How do you know that?” She wasn't sure of anything anymore, not the Senator's wife, not even her own husband. “How can you be so sure that it wasn't her fault?”

“I'm sure, that's all, and so were the police. They didn't give her a blood test, they obviously didn't think she needed one, or they would have. And they've laid no blame on her.” He clearly believed that.

“Maybe they were impressed with who she was.” They argued about everything these days, and Page was only grateful that Andy wasn't there to hear it. “Anyway, I'm going to the funeral. Trygve Thorensen is picking me up at two-fifteen to take me.”

Brad raised an eyebrow at her. “How cozy.”

“Don't give me that.” Her eyes blazed at him, her fatigue and anger showing. “The two of us have been sitting at that hospital that you hate so much for the past three days, waiting to see if our daughters were going to make it. And Phillip Chapman was driving the car his daughter was in too, but it's not keeping him from showing a little sympathy to the boy's parents.”

“What a great guy he is. Maybe you two can become 'friends,' since I no longer seem to appeal to you.” He was still piqued by her rebuff, although he understood it. But he was irritated by her praise of Trygve.

“Actually, he is a great guy, Brad. He's a good friend. And he's been there for me. He sat there and held my hand last night, when no one knew where you were, and the night of the accident when you were at the ‘John Gardiner’ with your little friend. He's been terrific. And you know what else, he's smart enough to keep his dick in his pants, and think about his kids, and not his sex life. So if you're looking for me to feel guilty or embarrassed, don't bother. I don't think Trygve Thorensen gives a shit about me as a woman, and that's just fine, because I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I just need a friend to be there for me, since I no longer seem to have a husband.”

There wasn't much Brad could say, and he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door. And without another word to her, he slammed out of the house ten minutes later. She wanted to strangle him, she was so mad, but a part of her was sad too. Everything had gone so wrong between them so quickly. It was almost impossible to understand it. The pressure they were under was excruciating, but so much else seemed to be wrong too, and she never knew it. The accident had uncovered everything, and brought its own problems along with it.

She showered and dressed for the funeral then, and Trygve came to pick her up at exactly two-fifteen. He was wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark tie, and he looked serious and very handsome. Page was wearing a black linen suit she had bought in New York the last time she visited her mother.

The service was at St. John's Episcopal Church, and somehow Page hadn't been prepared for the hundreds of kids who would attend, their shining young faces stricken by the loss of their friend, their hearts open for all to see, their grief overwhelming. There was a wonderful photograph of him with the swimming team on the program that the ushers handed out. And then Page realized that the ushers were Phillip's friends from the swim team. She saw Jamie Applegate there too. He looked devastated as he sat between his parents. But they seemed supportive of him. And his father had an arm around his shoulders.

They played all the music that the kids loved too, and Page felt tears instantly fill her throat as she heard it. There were at least three or four hundred young people in the church, and she knew Allyson would have been there too, if she hadn't been in the hospital in a coma.

And then, looking very dignified, and overwhelmed with grief, Phillip's parents walked in and took their seats in the front pew. There was another much older couple with them, Phillip's grandparents, and just seeing them made one cry. The power of his loss was so obvious just from their faces.

The minister spoke very movingly about the mysteries of God's love, and the terrible pain we feel at the loss of a loved one. He spoke of what an extraordinary young man Phillip had been, how admired by everyone, what a bright future he'd had before him. Page could hardly stand listening as she sobbed, trying not to think of what they would say if Allie died. It would be much the same thing. She was loved and admired by all. And the pain of her loss would be beyond bearing.

Mrs. Chapman cried openly through the entire ceremony, and the school choir sang “Amazing Grace” at the end of the service. And then everyone was invited up to the altar, for a moment of special prayer, and a last tribute to their friend. Mostly, the young people went, in groups or alone, crying, and holding hands, as they placed flowers on Phillip's casket. Everyone in the church was sobbing by then, and Page felt overwhelmed as she looked around her at the devastated young faces. It was then that she saw Laura Hutchinson, crying softly in a pew a few feet away. She seemed to have come alone, and she seemed as moved as everyone. Page stared at her for a long time, but she could see nothing more than a deeply affected mourner. Surprisingly little was said. Everyone looked dazed. It was just too painful.

And then, as they walked outside afterward, Page and Trygve noticed the reporters. They were following Laura Hutchinson at first, but she disappeared quickly into a limousine without speaking to them. And then they took photographs of the young people's faces, as they stood crying on the sidewalk. And then suddenly, they seemed to close in on the Chapmans. And Phillip's father became enraged and shouted at them through his tears that they were heartless bastards, as friends gently led him away. But even then, the reporters didn't leave, but they backed off slightly. It was still a hot story.

There was a reception after the service, in the school auditorium, and the Chapmans had invited a few friends to go home with them after that. But Page didn't want to go to either place. She couldn't bear it. She just wanted to be alone somewhere, to recover from the powerful blow of what she had felt at the service. She looked up at Trygve then, standing quietly at her side, and saw that he had cried as much as she had.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, and she nodded but started to cry again. “Yeah. Me too. Come on, I'll take you home.” She nodded again and followed him back to the car, and they sat there for a long moment in silence. She hadn't had the courage to say anything to the Chapmans as they left, but they had signed the guest book in the front of the church. She read afterward in the paper that there had been over five hundred mourners.

“Oh God, that was rough.” She finally spoke, trying to catch her breath, as Trygve looked at her, feeling drained by his emotions.

“It's awful. There's nothing worse. I hope I never live long enough to see the death of one of my children.” And then he was sorry for what he had said, knowing that Allyson's life still hung in the balance, but Page understood it. She didn't want to go through it either.

“I saw Mrs. Hutchinson. It was pretty ballsy of her to be there. I would think the Chapmans would be upset by her coming.”

“Yeah, but the press would be favorably impressed. It shows how much she cares, how human she is. It was a smart move,” he said wryly.

“That sounds pretty cynical,” she said bluntly. “Maybe she's sincere.”

“I doubt it. I know politicians. Believe me, her husband told her to be there. Maybe the accident wasn't her fault, maybe she is totally innocent. But in the meantime, this makes her look good.”

“Is that what it was all about?” Page looked disappointed.

“Probably. I don't know. I just keep feeling that she was negligent somehow, that it wasn't the kids' fault, or maybe I just want to believe that.” So did the Chapmans. Trygve started the car, and they followed a long line of cars back toward Page's house, on the way to school, and then she remembered that she needed to go to the hospital anyway for her car. And she wanted to see Allie more than ever after what they'd just been through. She wanted to reassure herself that Allie was still there, after the misery of being at Phillip's funeral, and sharing all that anguish.

“Do you mind dropping me off?” she asked, smiling sadly at him. It had been a terrible afternoon for both of them. Page had called the hospital several times that afternoon to see how Allyson was, but there had been no change since that morning.

“No problem. I want to see Chloe anyway. It makes you grateful they're alive, doesn't it?”

Page nodded, thinking of what Brad had said in the heat of the moment about not wanting Allie to be less than perfect. But he seemed to believe it. “I'd rather have Allie in any state, than lose her. Maybe that's wrong of me, but that's how I feel. Brad says he'd rather lose her than have her be limited in any way.”