He's hurt! She pointed at Bram, and then the others saw him. His wife saw him too, and his kids, and suddenly there was a mob surrounding him again, and no one could get through at all. They lifted Bram high over their heads finally, and his music went on, as his blood dripped on the crowd, as his wife held his hand, and his children cried. He was dead before the paramedics ever touched him. And Allegra was kneeling on the ground with them, as his wife held him in her arms and begged him not to leave them. But he was long gone, his spirit high in the sky amidst the brightly colored pinwheels, and his songs playing louder than ever. The crowd didn't even know what happened. The music just went on. And at midnight they told them. They became a wild, seething mass, crying and keening, and still the music went on. It was Bram Morrison's last concert.
The man who had killed him had never seen him before, never met him, never knew him, but God had sent him to save Bram, he said. He had to save him from the people who would hurt him, and bring him back to God. And he had. His mission had been accomplished, he told the police, and now Bram was happy. But surely no one else was.
A single, lone lunatic had killed Bram Morrison, one of rock music's great heroes. And fifty thousand fans went wild, crying, screaming, sobbing. It took until the next morning to clear them from the stands of the Forum. Allegra had been awake for hours by then, her jeans and white shirt still covered in blood, as she held Jeannie's hand and found out what she wanted. She thought they wanted a simple ceremony, but the public would never allow that. In the end they settled for a private burial, and a memorial for a hundred thousand at the Coliseum. The promoters arranged that, and Allegra did the rest. The funeral, the eulogy, the legal arrangements, the untangling of the red tape involving the tour. She did everything including hold Jeannie in her arms and console the children. It was what Bram would have wanted. She had always been fond of him, not like Mai O'Donovan, who was a buffoon of sorts. Bram had been one of the great men of music.
I can't believe it, she said to Jeff when they went back to Malibu that morning. It was already noon by the time they got home. But she had wanted to go to the beach and see it. I can't believe he's gone. She just stood there and cried as she thought of him and all that had happened that night, and Jeff held her.
We live in a crazy world, Jeff said softly, full of crazy people. People who want to take your soul, or your life or your money, or your reputation, whatever they can get. He was crying too, deeply moved by the senselessness of Bram's death, and the wife and children who would miss him.
A lunatic had taken Bram's life, but not his soul. His soul would be free forever. And Allegra sat on the beach and cried, remembering him and when they had met, and all their quiet, humorous conversations. He had been such an unassuming man, such an undemanding person. And yet he was always being threatened. He was too good, too simple, and too pure. It was an invitation to the crazies.
And later that week when they laid him to rest, and she saw his children in their mother's arms, Allegra knew something she had never felt before. She wanted a child, a baby, a piece of Jeff before fate could strike them down, and he could ever leave her. It was something she had never felt quite like this, if ever. But even more than that, she knew there was something she had to do first, an obligation from her heart. Life was so precious, so short, so easily stolen. It wasn't to be taken, or thrown away, it was to be protected and cherished. She could no longer save him, but there was one small life she could save, and now she knew she was destined to do it. Sam's baby.
She looked quietly at Jeff, and asked him as they drove back home. He was startled at first, and then he wasn't surprised at all. He was only surprised they hadn't thought of it sooner. They were going to be married in a month. It was too soon in Sam's life to have a child, but not in theirs. It was right for them, and it was not right to give it away to strangers.
I think it's a great idea, Jeff said, looking excited and a little stunned.
Do you mean it? she asked wondrously. He really was an extraordinary human being.
Of course I mean it. Let's tell Sam. They had barely survived Bram's funeral, and the shock of letting him go. And yet in an odd way, this was his last gift to them. It was as though he had suggested it, and they had reached out for this baby, which none of them had dared to reach out to before. It was theirs now.
I can't believe it, Allegra said, laughing. We're going to have a baby’ . Jeff was smiling too, and she just hoped that Sam would see the sense in it. The only losers in the deal were the adopting parents, the Whitmans. But as Allegra had told Sam before, they owed them nothing at this point. The baby hadn't even been born yet.
And when they talked to Sam later that day, she agreed with them. It was the perfect solution. And Jeff and Allegra would be the perfect parents. They put their arms around her and Sam cried. At least the baby would be near her. It was a blessing for all of them, and the answer to Samantha's prayers.
Chapter 19
Apparently, Katherine and John Whitman did not agree with them. They did not feel grateful or blessed, nor did they agree that Jeff and Allegra were the perfect parents. In fact, they were furious about it. Furious didn't even begin to describe their reaction. They had been through too much in the past to even be able to listen to reason. Suzanne Pearlman tried explaining it to them, that there was no contract yet, and that Sam had no obligation. But the Whitmans felt that life owed them more than they'd gotten so far and that they'd had enough cruel jokes played on them, with mothers withdrawing their babies. They were hurting terribly over it, and they were looking to hurt anyone they could now. As far as they were concerned, anyone was fair game. The Steinbergs, Allegra, Jeff, Sam, anyone they could injure in whatever way possible, as long as it was legal. They particularly thought Sam deserved it.
They sold their story to the tabloids for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to What's New magazine for another seventy-five, and three of the tabloid TV shows for another twenty-five each. All in all, a pretty fair take for the destruction of a family's peace of mind and a young girl's reputation. On her eighteenth birthday, Sam's name was spread everywhere, and none of what they said was pretty. They implied that she was a whore, had slept with half of Hollywood, and that she didn't even know the identity of the father. They supplied the tabloids every detail they'd had and added more. They claimed she'd been on drugs, that she drank, that she had sex with almost anyone, and even propositioned John once or twice when she was eight months' pregnant. It was the kind of story stars have nightmares about, but even more devastating to a girl Sam's age. And because her parents were celebrities, and an argument could be made that Sam was in the public eye because of them, she had absolutely no legal recourse, and they knew it. The tabloids always played it safe, and the destruction of a life or two meant nothing to them. That was their business.