“Thank God for your social connections, Harvey. Anyway, what did he say?”

“He says the guy's tops.” Charlie let out a long sigh and a few minutes later he put down the phone. Now all he could do was go back to his waiting game. They let him see her for five minutes every hour. But there wasn't much he could do really. She hadn't regained consciousness yet, and she didn't all that day.

It was the next day around six o'clock in the evening, when he looked in on her for the eighth time that day. He expected only to stand there for a few minutes, as he had every hour on the hour since that morning, to watch her still, now bandaged face, and then, at the signal from the nurse, to close the door and walk away. But this time as he watched her he thought that something was different. The position of her arms had shifted slightly and her color looked better. As he stood there he began gently to run a hand down the long sun-streaked blond hair and softly say her name. He talked to her as though she could hear him, telling her that he was right there with her, that they all loved her, and that she'd be okay. And this time, before the nurse came to beckon him from her, Sam opened her eyes, saw Charlie, and whispered “Hi.”

“What?” He looked astonished as he stood there, and his own word had sounded like an explosion in the highly monitored room. “What did you say?”

“I said hi.” It was barely more than a whisper, and as she said it he wanted to give a war whoop of glee. Instead he bent low so that she could hear him and he whispered too.

“Hey, kiddo, you're doing great.”

“Am I?… What… happened…?” Her voice was fading and he didn't want to answer, but her eyes wouldn't let go of his.

“You kicked the hell out of some horse.”

“Black Beauty?” She looked vague and groggy and he wondered if she was fading out again, but then the eyelids fluttered open. “No… now I remember… the gray stallion… there was a ditch… a river… something…” Something, all right. A something that had changed her whole life.

“Yeah. Anyway, it doesn't matter. That's all over.”

“Why am I here?”

“So I can recover.” They were still whispering, and he smiled at her and ever so gently took her hand. He had never been so happy to see her as he was right now.

“Can I go home?” She sounded sleepy and childlike as she closed her eyes again.

“Not just yet.”

“When? Tomorrow?”

“We'll see.” Tomorrow… it would be several hundred tomorrows, but Charlie couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. He was just so damn glad that she had made it. She was alive, and she was conscious-that had to be a good sign.

“You didn't call my mother, did you?” She eyed him suspiciously and he quickly shook his head.

“Of course not.” He lied.

“Good. Her husband is an ass.”

Charlie grinned at her, thrilled with the soft patter of conversation, and then the nurse appeared at the window and gave him the sign.

“I have to go now, Sam. But I'll come back tomorrow. Okay, babe?”

“Okay.” She smiled sweetly at him, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep. And when Charlie went back to the hotel, he called Mellie and told her that Sam had regained consciousness at last.

“What does that mean?” She still sounded desperately worried, but he was buoyant with the news.

“I don't know, love. But right now it sure feels good. I thought… I thought maybe we had lost her.”

Mellie nodded at her end. “So did I.”


***

He stayed in Denver with her for another two weeks, and then both Mellie and Harvey started making noises about his coming home. He knew he had to, and he missed Mellie and the kids terribly, but he just hated to leave Sam. Still he knew he couldn't stay in Denver for another three months. But that night, as he tried to force himself to make a plane reservation for that weekend, he had an idea. And the next morning he waited for the doctor outside his office and nervously put forward his plan.

“What do you think, Doctor?”

“That it's very risky. Is it worth it? Why is it so important to take her back to New York?”

“Because she has her friends there. She has absolutely no one here.”

“What about your parents? Couldn't they come out?” Charlie looked at the doctor blankly for a moment and then remembered that he was still masquerading as Sam's brother, and then shook his head.

“No. They're traveling in Europe, and I don't think that I'll be able to reach them for another month.” By now he knew that if he had to reach her family Sam's stepfather's office could find him, but she had been adamant about it. She didn't want her mother called. “I just don't want to leave her alone out here, and I really should get back.”

“I can understand that.” The doctor looked pensive. “You know she would be in good hands.”

“I know that.” Charlie looked at him warmly. “But… right now… once she figures out what she's up against, Doctor, she's going to need everyone she's got.”

He nodded slowly. “I can't argue with that. Right now she's really not in any danger, as long as we keep everything pretty constant for her and make sure she doesn't get pneumonia.” That was still the greatest danger, and suspended on a great machine as she was in the giant plaster body cast-her “barbecue spit,” as she called it-they turned her over, like a roast chicken, several times a day. But she still hadn't figured out the implications of what had happened, and the doctor didn't want to tell her until she was stronger. He felt that for the moment there was no need. “You do have a point, Peterson. Once she knows, and that day will come fairly soon, she's going to need all of you. I can't keep it from her forever. It's only been two weeks. But she's less groggy now, she's more alert, eventually she'll put two and two together, and when she figures out that she'll never walk again, it's going to be very traumatic for her. I'd like to have you here.”

“Or her there. What do you think?”

“Can your firm charter a plane? Would they do it?”

“Yes.” He had called Harvey that morning and Harvey had told him to spare no expense. “A nurse, a doctor, any kind of machinery you want. You run the show, we'll pay the bills.”

“All right,” the doctor said thoughtfully, “all right, if her condition stays stable for the next few days, I'll make the arrangements for you and we'll fly her to New York this weekend.”

“You'll come too?” Charlie crossed his fingers and the doctor nodded. “Hallelujah! Thank you, Doctor!” The doctor grinned, and Charlie hurried to tell Sam.

“You're going home, kid.”

“I am? I can leave?” She looked both startled and thrilled. “But what about my barbecue? Won't they charge us a lot for excess baggage?” Although she was joking, he saw that she looked nervous at the prospect of leaving. She was beginning to understand just how much danger she had been in and that she wasn't totally out of the woods yet. The only thing she really didn't understand was about her legs. But she would. Charlie still cringed at the thought. As long as she was still in the cast, she wouldn't figure it out.

“No sweat-you should pardon the pun,” he said, grinning. “We're taking the barbecue with us. Harvey says we can charter our own plane.”

“But, Charlie, that's crazy. Qn't they just set me up with crutches or something, or if worse comes to worst, stick me in a wheelchair with my stupid body cast and let me fly home on the plane?”

“Only if you want to give me heart failure. Look, Sam, the truth is you kicked the shit out of yourself, so now why take chances? Why not go home in style? I mean, if you're going to do it, baby, do it!”

“A chartered plane?” She looked hesitant but he nodded with a grin.

“Of course we'll have to see how you do in the next couple of days.”

“I'll do fine. I want to get out of here.” She smiled wanly at him. “I just want to go home to my own bed.” He realized then with a jolt that by “home,” she had understood her apartment, when all he had meant was New York. He mentioned it later to the doctor, who reassured him.

“I'm afraid you're going to see a lot of that, Mr. Peterson. The human mind is a wonderful thing. It only accepts what it can handle. The rest it just kind of puts away somewhere, until it can deal with it. Somewhere, deep in her psyche, she knows that she is still too sick to go home, but she's not ready yet to accept that. When she is, she will, you don't have to say anything. Not yet at least. We can discuss that little matter at the New York airport if we have to. But she'll deal with it when she's ready to, just like she'll deal with the fact that she can't walk anymore. One day all the information she already has will fall into place and she'll know.”

Charlie exhaled softly. “How can you be so sure she'll understand?”

There was a moment's pause before the doctor answered. “She doesn't have any choice.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “Do you think we'll be able to take her back there?”

“Sooner or later.” The doctor answered calmly.

“I mean this weekend.”

“We'll just have to see, won't we?” He smiled then and disappeared to make his rounds.

The next few days seemed to take forever, and Sam was suddenly impatient and nervous and jumpy too. She wanted to go home, but she was having problems. The body cast was chafing, she was coughing slightly, she had a rash on her arms from some of the medication, and her face itched terribly now that all the scabs were healing and dropping off.

“Christ, Charlie, I look like a goddamn monster!” She sounded irritated for the first time since she'd been there, and when he came into the room, he thought her eyes looked red.

“I don't think so. I think you look gorgeous. So what else is new?”

“Nothing.” But she sounded sullen, and he watched her carefully as he toured casually around the room. She was no longer in intensive care, but had a small room, almost entirely swallowed up by the bed, and in the corner was a table covered with flowers, from Henry and his lover, Jack, the rest of the crew, another bunch from Harvey, and still more from Mellie and him.