“Is it Dad?” Her voice was filled with panic, as her mother opened her eyes and gestured to silence her. She wanted to hear everything the clerk in the intensive care unit said. But she nodded in answer to Olivia's question, as the young woman sat down on her bed. “Is he okay?” Her mother didn't answer her as she continued to listen to the voice on the other end.
“What's his doctor's name?” She quickly jotted a name down on the pad at the side of her bed, asked a few more questions, and asked them to call her if anything changed. “I'll be there as soon as I can. I want to be called if anything happens, and I want to know as soon as he regains consciousness, if he does. I'll call back in half an hour, and tell you when I'll be there.” She sounded calm, but her eyes said she was anything but. She looked stunned as she hung up the phone and Olivia flew into her arms.
“What happened?” There were tears in her daughter's voice, and Cynthia could feel a lump in her own throat. What they had told her was terrible, and she could only hope that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. A fractured neck, a spinal cord injury, spinal surgery, possibly permanent paralysis, internal damage, broken bones. And they weren't even sure he'd survive. And if he did, it was questionable that he'd ever walk again. The thought of Bill in a wheelchair was unthinkable. In some ways, she almost thought, for his sake, he'd be better off if he died. He would hate being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. And she couldn't see herself as his nurse. What if he were a paraplegic, or worse? What if he were bedridden and unable to move? Her mind was racing over everything the woman had said, and her own terrors were running wild.
“Dad had an accident. He's in London. I forgot he said he'd be there for a few days. I talked to him a couple of days ago in New York. He was in a car that was hit by a bus, and it sounds pretty bad,” Cynthia said honestly. “His neck is fractured, and his spinal cord is damaged. He just came out of surgery, and it's very serious stuff.”
“Is he going to die?” Olivia's eyes looked huge.
Cynthia hesitated for a long moment as tears flooded her daughter's eyes. “He could,” she said gently. “But Dad's pretty tough. I think he'll be okay, but we don't know that yet. I'm going to go over there today.”
“I'm coming with you,” Olivia said. She was a tall willowy blonde with a lovely figure and a pretty face. She was going to be a junior at Georgetown University in the fall, majoring in foreign policy. She was a terrific student, and a great kid, and both her parents were justifiably proud of her. And in spite of the little time she spent with him, she was crazy about her dad. She had idolized him when she was a child, and in recent years she'd been fascinated by everything he did.
“I think you girls should stay here,” Cynthia said as she threw back the covers and got out of bed. She had to call the airlines and pack. She was hoping to get a noon flight, and it would just complicate things to take Olivia with her. And she didn't want them upset. From everything the woman at the hospital had said, it sounded very bad.
“I'm coming with you, Mom.” Olivia raised her voice to her, which was rare. “If I have to, I'll buy the ticket and go by myself.”
“What's going on?” Jane asked sleepily as she wandered into the room. She was small and blond with a tantalizing figure, and she looked almost exactly the way Cindy had at her age. She had just finished her freshman year at NYU, and was turning nineteen. She had heard their voices, and she could see that Olivia was angry at their mother, from the look on her face. “What are you two fighting about at this hour?” Cynthia and her elder child had always had battles about everything. It was Jane who was the peacemaker and the easygoing one. And as she yawned, she climbed into her mother's bed.
“Dad had an accident,” Olivia told her younger sister, as Jane's eyes grew wide, and her mother got on the phone to call the airlines.
“Is he okay?” It was hard for her to imagine that he might not be. Olivia was much more high-strung than she was, and could have been exaggerating. Jane couldn't be sure.
“It doesn't sound good,” Olivia said, choking on a sob, and then sat down on their mother's bed to put her arms around Jane, as she started to cry. “He fractured his neck, and his spine is hurt. Mom says they're not sure he'll ever walk again. He just had a surgery. His car got hit by a bus.”
“Oh shit,” Jane said, clinging to the older sister she had always comforted, rather than the reverse. But Jane had always been the calm, competent one, even as a very young child. She could take care of herself anywhere, or anyone else who needed her help. She had Cindy's cool unemotional side, but this time she looked panicked as she started to cry.
“Mom's flying to London, and I'm going too,” Olivia said through her tears.
“I'm coming too,” Jane said, and then hopped out of bed, to tell her mother her plans. She stood right in front of her, as Cindy made her flight arrangements on the phone. “We're both going with you,” Jane spoke right over her, and Cindy waved her away. She could hardly hear, they were talking so loud. And then she put her hand on the phone, and spoke to Jane.
“I think you should both stay here. I'll call you if I think you should come.”
“Either we go with you, or we'll go on our own,” Jane said purposefully, and her mother knew from experience, it was futile arguing with her. Olivia could be talked out of things, but once Jane made up her mind, she had the flexibility of a rock. “What time do we leave?”
“There's an eleven-forty flight,” Cindy answered, and then changed her reservations on the phone. She told the agent she'd need three seats in business class. And a moment later, she hung up, and told the girls they had to leave the house at nine. They had two hours to get organized, dress, and pack. There wasn't even time for Bill's plane to come back to New York for them.
“I'll make breakfast,” Jane volunteered, as Olivia sat on the bed and cried. “Go pack,” she told her older sister, and then looked at her mother, as Cindy opened her closet and took a suitcase off a shelf. “Is Dad going to make it, Mom?” Jane asked quietly. Ever the sensible one, she was fighting to stay calm, as her mother turned and looked at her with troubled eyes.
“I don't know, sweetheart. It sounds like it's too soon to tell. But he's hanging in, and he came through the surgery.” She didn't tell her that the clerk in the ICU had told her he had almost died twice, and it had taken them two hours to pry him out of the car. “He's healthy and strong, and he's in great shape. That can't hurt.”
“How did it happen?” Jane asked, dabbing at her eyes.
“I don't know. All I know is that his limousine was hit by a bus. It must have been a terrible accident, eleven people were killed. Let's be grateful your father wasn't one of them,” she said as Jane left the room, and she tried to figure out what to pack.
But as she threw slacks and T-shirts and sweaters into a suitcase, all she could think of were the implications for Bill. She was absolutely certain that if he was going to be severely impaired, he would prefer not to live. She wasn't sure what she wished for him now, it all depended on how badly damaged he was. But she didn't want to say any of that to the girls. As she packed underwear and shoes into her bag, she realized that she wasn't even sure what she felt herself. She had been married to him for more than half her life, and she wasn't in love with him anymore, but if nothing else they were friends. He was the father of her children, and had been her husband for thirty years. There had been other men in her life, and their marriage had run out of gas a long time ago, she had even thought about divorcing him once or twice, when she was involved with other men. But it had never once in all these years occurred to her that he might die. Just thinking of that now changed everything.