been a long night for them, and it was only one-thirty in the morning.
CHAPTER 4
A t eleven-fifty, Page was watching an old movie on TV, and she sat up in bed a little straighter. Allyson was twenty minutes late, and her mother was not amused. At midnight, she was even less so.
Andy was sleeping peacefully at her side, and Lizzie was asleep on the floor near the bed. Everything was quiet and tranquil in the house, except Page, who was getting madder by the minute. Allyson had promised to be home no later than eleven-thirty, which was half an hour later than Page wanted her home in the first place. And there was absolutely no excuse for her violating her curfew.
Page thought of calling the Thorensen home, but she knew there was no point. If they were still at the movies, or out having ice cream somewhere, there would be no answer anyway. She figured they had probably gone out to eat somewhere after the movie, and Allyson obviously hadn't told Chloe's father that she had to be home by eleven-thirty.
By twelve-thirty, Page was enraged, and by one o'clock she was very worried. She was just deciding to abandon her reticence and call the Thorensen home, when the phone rang at five after one. She assumed that it was Allyson asking if she could spend the night at Chloe's. Page was beyond livid by then, and would have liked to shake her daughter.
“No, you may not was the way she answered.
“Hello?” The voice at the other end sounded confused, and Page sounded even more so. It wasn't Allyson at all, but a stranger. She couldn't even imagine who would call her at this hour, unless it was a mistake, or an obscene phone call.
“Is this the Clarke residence?”
“Yes? Who is this?” A sudden electric tingle of fear ran down her spine, and she ignored it.
“This is the highway patrol, Mrs. Clarke. This is Mrs. Clarke?”
“Yes.” The word was a whisper, as sudden fear clutched her throat and held it.
“I'm sorry to tell you that your daughter has been in an accident.”
“Oh my God.” Her whole body came alive, and her mind was filled with terror. “Is she alive?”
“Yes, but she was unconscious on the way to Marin General. She was very seriously hurt.” Oh God … oh God …what does “very seriously” mean? How bad is that? Is she okay? Will she live? How hurt is she?
“What happened?” It was a pathetic croak from deep in Page's throat.
“A head-on collision on the Golden Gate Bridge. They were hit by an oncoming southbound vehicle on their way into Marin County.”
“Into Marin? From where? That can't be.” She was willing to quibble about where Allyson had been, maybe if she won the argument, it would mean that she had never been there and nothing had happened to her after all.
“I'm afraid it was. She's in Marin General now, Mrs. Clarke. You need to get there pretty quickly.”
“Oh God …thank you …” She hung up without saying more, and frantically dialed information. They gave her the number for Marin General, and she asked for the emergency room. Yes, Allyson Clarke was there, yes, she was still alive, and no, they were unable to give her any further information. The doctors were all busy with her, and couldn't talk to Page. Allyson Clarke was listed in critical condition.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and her hands shook violently as she dialed her neighbor. She had to leave Andy with someone …she had to call …had to get dressed …had to get there …The phone answered after four rings, as Page sobbed silently, praying that Allyson would be alive when she got there.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice finally answered.
“Jane? Can you come?” Page sounded breathless and felt as though she couldn't get enough air. What if she fainted? What if …what if Allyson died … oh God, no …please, no …
“What's wrong?” Jane Gilson knew her well, and she had never known Page to panic. “What is it? Are you sick? Is someone there?” Had there been an intruder?
“No,” it was a
CHAPTER 4
A t eleven-fifty, Page was watching an old movie on TV, and she sat up in bed a little straighter. Allyson was twenty minutes late, and her mother was not amused. At midnight, she was even less so.
Andy was sleeping peacefully at her side, and Lizzie was asleep on the floor near the bed. Everything was quiet and tranquil in the house, except Page, who was getting madder by the minute. Allyson had promised to be home no later than eleven-thirty, which was half an hour later than Page wanted her home in the first place. And there was absolutely no excuse for her violating her curfew.
Page thought of calling the Thorensen home, but she knew there was no point. If they were still at the movies, or out having ice cream somewhere, there would be no answer anyway. She figured they had probably gone out to eat somewhere after the movie, and Allyson obviously hadn't told Chloe's father that she had to be home by eleven-thirty.
By twelve-thirty, Page was enraged, and by one o'clock she was very worried. She was just deciding to abandon her reticence and call the Thorensen home, when the phone rang at five after one. She assumed that it was Allyson asking if she could spend the night at Chloe's. Page was beyond livid by then, and would have liked to shake her daughter.
“No, you may not was the way she answered.
“Hello?” The voice at the other end sounded confused, and Page sounded even more so. It wasn't Allyson at all, but a stranger. She couldn't even imagine who would call her at this hour, unless it was a mistake, or an obscene phone call.
“Is this the Clarke residence?”
“Yes? Who is this?” A sudden electric tingle of fear ran down her spine, and she ignored it.
“This is the highway patrol, Mrs. Clarke. This is Mrs. Clarke?”
“Yes.” The word was a whisper, as sudden fear clutched her throat and held it.
“I'm sorry to tell you that your daughter has been in an accident.”
“Oh my God.” Her whole body came alive, and her mind was filled with terror. “Is she alive?”
“Yes, but she was unconscious on the way to Marin General. She was very seriously hurt.” Oh God … oh God …what does “very seriously” mean? How bad is that? Is she okay? Will she live? How hurt is she?
“What happened?” It was a pathetic croak from deep in Page's throat.
“A head-on collision on the Golden Gate Bridge. They were hit by an oncoming southbound vehicle on their way into Marin County.”
“Into Marin? From where? That can't be.” She was willing to quibble about where Allyson had been, maybe if she won the argument, it would mean that she had never been there and nothing had happened to her after all.
“I'm afraid it was. She's in Marin General now, Mrs. Clarke. You need to get there pretty quickly.”
“Oh God …thank you …” She hung up without saying more, and frantically dialed information. They gave her the number for Marin General, and she asked for the emergency room. Yes, Allyson Clarke was there, yes, she was still alive, and no, they were unable to give her any further information. The doctors were all busy with her, and couldn't talk to Page. Allyson Clarke was listed in critical condition.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and her hands shook violently as she dialed her neighbor. She had to leave Andy with someone …she had to call …had to get dressed …had to get there …The phone answered after four rings, as Page sobbed silently, praying that Allyson would be alive when she got there.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice finally answered.
“Jane? Can you come?” Page sounded breathless and felt as though she couldn't get enough air. What if she fainted? What if …what if Allyson died … oh God, no …please, no …
“What's wrong?” Jane Gilson knew her well, and she had never known Page to panic. “What is it? Are you sick? Is someone there?” Had there been an intruder?
“No,” it was a
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