Trygve visited Page at the ICU waiting room for a few minutes to bring her some sandwiches and cookies, and then went back to Chloe, who had visitors. She was reveling in seeing young people again, and it seemed to make her feel better.

“Bjorn was ecstatic about yesterday, by the way,” Trygve told Page as he shared a sandwich with her outside the ICU. He seemed happy to see her, but she was convinced now that her illusion had been just that. He was friendly, but not romantic.

“So was Andy. He had a great time. He would have invited Bjorn over today, except that he had to go to a friend's. Brad called to tell him he couldn't see him.”

“Bjorn had to do his homework anyway. How was Andy when Brad canceled?”

“Not great, but he adjusted.”

They chatted for a little while, and then he went back to Chloe, and when Page went home that afternoon, she picked up Andy on the way home, and they stopped for ice cream. In a world where everything had changed overnight, the smallest rituals brought them both comfort.

And they were both surprised when Brad arrived shortly after they got home, and said he was staying for dinner. He asked how Allie was, and Page told him the truth. She was still alive, but there was still no improvement.

They ate dinner quietly in the kitchen, just the three of them, and she was startled afterward when she saw Brad packing a suitcase.

“Are you moving out?” she asked, sounding as though she was expecting it, which saddened both of them. In a mere eight days, this was where they had come to.

“I'm going to Chicago on business.” He didn't tell her Stephanie was going with him. This time, she had insisted.

“When are you going?” she asked quietly, ready for anything.

“Tonight. I'm taking the red-eye.”

“What about Allie?” What if she failed again? Could he live with that? But she already knew the answer to her question.

“I have to. There's an important deal I have to close.” He said it calmly, and she couldn't stop herself.

“For real, or like the one in Cleveland?”

“Don't start that, Page,” he said harshly, “I mean it.”

“So do I.” She no longer trusted him, but it was no longer an issue.

“I still have a job, you know. Accident or no, I still have to work. And my work takes me to other cities.”

“I know that,” she said, and left the room. He kissed Andy good-bye before he left, and left the name and number of his hotel on the pad in the kitchen. He was going for three days and she didn't really mind it. In some ways, his being gone would ease the tension between them.

“I'll be back on Wednesday,” he said just before he left, and he said nothing more to her. Not “I love you.” Not “good-bye.” He just closed the door, and drove down the driveway. He had just enough time to pick Stephanie up on the way to the airport.

“Are you mad at him?” Andy asked nervously. He had heard their tone of voice when they talked, and he hated it. He had put his pillow over his ears so he didn't have to hear them in case they started yelling.

“No, I'm not mad at him,” she confirmed, but her face said something different.

She read for a while after he left, trying not to think of all the things that had changed. There were too many to think of. She turned off the light and went to bed, after calling the hospital to check on Allie.

And the next morning, after dropping Andy off at school, she went to see her, and settled in for the day in ICU. Frances, the head nurse, knew her so well, she let her spend hours at Allie's bedside. It was becoming routine now. She had no other life, no other job, no other work, except ricocheting between Andy's needs, and her vigil at the hospital, and her fights with Brad whenever she saw him. It was incredibly claustrophobic.

She felt almost numb as she sat there, watching the machine breathe for Allie. They had taken the bandages off her eyes by then. And for an instant, she had thought she saw an eyelid move, but after watching intently for a long time, she realized that she had dreamed it. One saw things sometimes because one wanted to, but they weren't really there, they were illusions.

She sat back in her uncomfortable chair for a moment and closed her eyes, when Frances came to get her. She was waiting for the physical therapist to come so she could help move Allie's arms and legs. It was important to keep doing that so her muscles wouldn't atrophy, or her joints become too stiff to move. There was a lot to do, even with a patient in a coma.

“Mrs. Clarke?” Page jumped at the voice, startled.

“Yes?”

“There's a phone call for you. You can take it at the desk.”

“Thank you.” It was probably Brad, checking on Allyson from Chicago. He was the only person who knew where to find her, except Jane, and there was no reason for her to call. Andy was in school. But it turned out to be Ross Grammar School. They explained that they were sorry to disturb her, but it was an emergency, her son had just been injured.

“My son?” she said blankly, as though she didn't have one. Her whole body felt as though it were going into shock. “What do you mean?” Her whole being seemed to fill with panic.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Clarke.” It was the school secretary and Page scarcely knew her. “There's been an accident … he fell off the jungle gym …” Oh God, he was dead … he had broken his back … he had a head injury too …she started to cry. She couldn't go through this again. Didn't they understand that?

“What happened?” Her voice was barely audible, and one of the nurses was watching her face and saw her turn gray at what she was hearing.

“We think he may have broken his shoulder. He's on his way to Marin General now. If you go down to the emergency room, you'll be there to meet him.”

“Fine.” She hung up the phone without saying good-bye and looked around her in panic. “My little boy …my son …he's had an accident …”

“Calm down …he's probably fine.” Frances took charge instantly and led Page to a chair and got her a drink of water. “Take it easy, Page. He's going to be fine. Where is he?”

“He's on his way here, to the emergency room.”

“I'll take you down there,” the head nurse said calmly. She arranged to leave the floor and escorted Page to the emergency room. She looked terrible, and she was shaking visibly when they got there. But Andy hadn't come in yet.

Frances left Page in the care of the emergency room staff, and a moment later, Page disappeared and went to a pay phone. It was stupid of her, she knew, but for once in her life, she couldn't manage alone. She had to call him.

He answered on the second ring, and he sounded distracted. He was probably writing. She knew he had an article due for The New Republic.“Hello?” It was Trygve.

“I'm sorry … I had to call …there's been an accident at school …” For a moment, he didn't recognize her and he thought someone was calling about Bjorn, and then he realized who it was.

“Page? Are you all right? What happened?” She sounded awful.

“I don't know,” she was crying into the phone, and making very little sense as he listened. “It's Andy …the school just called …he's hurt …he fell off the jungle gym …”She began to sob, imagining the worst again, and Trygve stood up as he listened.

“I'll come right over. Where are you?”

“I'm in the emergency room at Marin General.” It was certainly a familiar place to them both by now, and he drove there at full speed. He pulled in just as Andy was being carried out of a car by a teacher. And he was quick to reach him. The boy looked frightened and pale and as though he was in pain, but he was very definitely conscious, and in no apparent danger.

“What are you doing here, young man? This place is for sick people. You look fine to me.” Trygve examined him with his eyes as they chatted.

“I hurt my arm …and my back … I fell off the jungle gym,” he said wanly as Trygve held the door open for the teacher. He looked like the P.E. teacher, in sweats and tennis shoes with a whistle around his neck, and he looked worried about Andy.

“Your Mom's inside waiting for you.” He smiled gently, and followed them in, and he saw Page immediately. She looked terrible and she couldn't stop shaking. She started crying the moment she saw him. All the strength she had had for Allie had suddenly left her. Trygve put an arm around her and pulled her close to him, to stop the shaking, as the teacher carried the child into an examining room where a nurse was waiting to check his vital signs and examine the damage. She was cheerful and nice. At first she carefully examined him with her fingers. She could see that he had broken his arm and dislocated his shoulder. But she also looked into his eyes with a flashlight to check for a head injury.

“Wait a minute here,” Trygve teased, “you're as big a mess as Chloe. She can't walk, and now you've got a broken arm …boy, you two. I'm going to let Bjorn take care of both of you.” He grinned and Andy tried to smile through the pain, but the arm hurt a lot. They put him on a gurney to take him to X-ray, and Trygve stayed with Page every minute.

“He's going to be all right, Page. Take it easy.” He reassured her when they were doing the X ray.

“I don't know what happened,” she said, still looking deathly pale and shaking. “I panicked …I'm really sorry I called you.” But it was all she could think of when she'd heard. She needed Trygve to be there with her, just as he had been in those first nightmarish days with Allie, and ever since then. It was Trygve she wanted with her, not Brad, and realizing that surprised her. But she knew she could count on Trygve. And he was happy to be there.

“I'm not sorry you called. I'm just sorry this happened. But he'll be all right.” The teacher had gone back to school by then, and Trygve stood with Andy and held his hand when they put his shoulder back in place and set the arm, which was pretty painful. They put the arm in a sling afterward and gave him something for the pain. They wanted him to go home and stay in bed for a day, and after that he'd be as good as new. The cast had to be on for six weeks. It was a pretty nasty break, but at his age they didn't think it would cause any long-term problems.