Choices (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  A beam of light bounced off her rearview mirror and exploded within the car, blinding her. Squinting, she looked into her rearview mirror. She could just barely make out a truck suddenly coming up behind her. The driver had his brights on to illuminate the almost pitch black path.

  Unable to see, Shanna lowered her head to get away from the glare.

  She didn’t see the icy patch ahead.

  Her car went into a skid. Frantically Shanna twisted the wheel to the left before she remembered that she was supposed to drive into a spin, not out of it. Panic-clawed away the hurt and despair that had been her companions a second ago as she felt the car going completely out of control. In less than a moment she was tossed into a cacophony of sounds. Tires squealed as glass shattered and metal groaned. She thought she felt the jolt of something huge moving into her.

  The scream she was only vaguely aware of as she tumbled into complete, overwhelming blackness belonged to her.

  White.

  Nothing but white. It surrounded her, then ripped apart, cut through by flaming scissors of pain that slashed ruthlessly into her consciousness.

  Shanna desperately attempted to rouse herself, to pull free. To pull free of the pain that oppressively weighed her down.

  A multicolored mosaic of incidents, feelings, sounds swirled through her brain and she tried to make sense of the shards. There was no whole, no picture, only fragments. Jordan, his sensuous mouth laughing at her, growing larger and larger as hideous sounds echoed around her. Her grandmother, wan and pale, fading farther and farther away as Shanna tried to reach out and touch her. Lost, she was lost, running, searching to find her way. A light appeared in front of her and she ran toward it, until suddenly it blinded her. It was a car and it was heading directly toward her. She was going to die. She tried to scream, but no sounds came out.

  And then nothing.

  Was she dead?

  No, she hurt too much to be dead. Being dead wasn’t supposed to hurt. Was it?

  Shanna struggled against overwhelming weight to open her eyes. She felt as if there was something incredibly heavy pressing down on her lids, drugging her senses. If she just gave in, it would be all right. She wouldn’t have to struggle, to fight.

  But she wanted to open her eyes.

  “Choices, Shanna, make choices,” her grandmother’s voice whispered in her ear.

  I made a terrible choice, Grandmother. I married Jordan.

  Had she uttered the words? Her lips weren’t moving. Was she just dreaming? Nothing moved except the pain as it steamrolled over her body in passes that took Shanna’s breath away and threatened to press her further into the chaotic world she found herself in.

  Definitely alive, she thought. What a pity.

  Pity.

  Her grandmother’s voice filled her head again. Nothing I can’t abide more than pity, Shanna. And the worst kind is self-pity. It’ll unravel you as surely as if you were a skein of wool.

  No, no more pity, Grandmother, I promise, she vowed, bowing before the dancing lights that shielded her grandmother from her view. No more pity. No more weakness. No more Shanna Brady, or Shanna Calhoun. No more Shanna anything, Just Shanna.

  Shanna felt a smile and couldn’t tell if she was forming it on her lips or if there was something smiling down at her. It didn’t matter. It was going to be all right. Her grandmother was here to help her get over this.

  “Grandmother?” she whispered hoarsely. Dry, her lips felt dry, cracked, as if someone had taken a knife and cut little notches along them.

  Something, no someone moved just next to her. She could sense it. A voice drifted to her from very far away, growing louder with each word.

  “No, it’s Mother, Shanna. Can you hear me?”

  This time her eyelids did lift when she tried to move them. The stark whiteness she had sensed started to take shape. It was the curtain near her bed. But everything else was a blur. There was someone there with her. Shanna labored hard to focus.

  A lady in a white coat. A white fur coat. Raven-black hair spilling down on the collar. Perfume that smelled of exotic flowers.

  Mother.

  “Can you hear me, Shanna?” Rheena repeated urgently, squeezing the cold, pale hand she held in hers.

  What was that pain? Shanna lifted a hand that seemed incredibly heavy and touched the side of her head. She couldn’t reach her temple. Something thick and rough was in the way. A bandage?

  “I can hear you, Mother.” Shanna attempted to turn her head so that she could look around. A thousand arrows sliced her scalp. She bit her lip to keep from gasping and felt the sickly taste of blood again. “Where am I?”

  “Georgetown University Hospital. I had you transferred here as soon as the police called me.” Rheena, thoroughly shaken, had just lived through what had seemed to her to be the most horrible twelve hours of her life. Anger rose in response to the fright she had felt and the fear she had been warring with for half a day. “What the hell were you doing, driving in that weather? You could have been killed. Are you out of your mind?”

  For once, her mother’s anger didn’t disturb her, didn’t make her want to shrink away. She was past all that now. “Jordan—“ she began weakly, then stopped. How did she go about summarizing the devastating pain, the shattered dreams in one sentence?

  “Right here, honey.”

  No, not here. I left you behind me, at the house. Naked. That other woman’s sweat dampening your body.

  Jordan, his eyes filled with concern, a day-old stubble on his handsome face, stood on her other side. He took her hand in his and she winced as she pulled it away.

  So, she was still angry. But he wasn’t going to let her be difficult about this. Time, it would just take a little time, he thought, swearing inwardly. He’d behave like the contrite, atoning husband, promising her anything if she would just forgive him. She’d be eating out of his hand again within the week.

  Next time, he promised himself, he’d have to be more careful.

  He touched her face tenderly. “You had me so worried. I thought—“

  No, no lies, Jordan. Not anymore.

  From somewhere, she summoned her anger and held it up like a shield to ward off his ploys. She wished she could pull herself up into a sitting position, but knew she hadn’t the strength. She saved it for her words.

  “Get out.”

  Jordan shrugged helplessly at Rheena, his expression never faltering. Taking Shanna’s hand again, he looked lovingly into her eyes, mentally cursing her soul to hell. “Shanna, honey, you’re delirious, you don’t know what you’re saying—“

  With a surge of strength that immediately left her gasping, Shanna pulled away her hand. It hit the IV stand, causing it to totter. Jordan caught it before it could fall over.

  “Shanna, be careful,” Rheena cried.

  Ignoring her mother, Shanna struggled for breath, for control. She wasn’t going to be hysterical and she wasn’t going to surrender her consciousness to the terrible pain she was experiencing and pass out, not before she made him leave her room. She never wanted to see his face again as long as she lived.

  “I know exactly what I’m saying, Jordan, and I want you to get out. Out of my room, out of my life. Now.”

  Jordan’s facial muscles tightened. He glanced nervously at his mother-in-law as he tried to calm his wife.

  “Shanna, please—“

  “Don’t plead, Jordan,” Shanna said, her voice cracking. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t scream for relief. “It doesn’t become you. Now go away.” She turned her face into the pillow, away from him. “I’m tired, I want to be alone.”

  Jordan nodded, grasping at the excuse. He crossed to the door. “I understand. This has all been a terrible ordeal for all of us, but everything will be better soon. I promise,” he added vehemently. He looked at the pale face. Why hadn’t she just died? It was just like her to live and give him grief. “I’ll be back to see you soon,” he told her just as the door closed behind him.


  When hell freezes over. She turned her head slowly, realizing that her mother was still in the room. “I’d like you to go, too, Mother.”

  “Not just yet.” The little scene that had just transpired had Rheena speculating. She arched her brow as she moved forward to her daughter. “I admit that I’m not much of a mother, Shanna, but I almost lost you last night and I want to know why.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother to get out again, but there was a note of sincerity in the other woman’s voice that had Shanna weakening and tears rising to her eyes.

  No, no more tears. No more pity.

  “I came home,” Shanna began slowly, each word burning in her throat. Betrayed. Jordan had betrayed her love, her trust. Who was she going to trust now? No one. There was no one. There was a huge void within her that was so overwhelming she felt as if she was going to plunge into a bottomless chasm. “I came home,” she repeated again, measuring each syllable, fighting the natural urge to hide her shame. Her mother, studying her face, remained silent and waited. “And found him in bed with some woman.”

  It had to happen sooner or later, Rheena thought. The report she had locked in her safe from that detective had labeled Jordan a modern-day satyr. Rheena began to say something about it and decided not to. What purpose would it serve to hurt Shanna, especially now, while she was lying broken and bleeding in a hospital bed?

  “I see.” Rheena sat down on the side of the bed and leaned forward, taking Shanna’s hand in hers. It was a warm, bonding gesture. “And you ran.”

  It sounded so cowardly, Shanna thought. She was through being a coward, through keeping to the shadows. “I just wanted to get away. There is a difference.”

  Rheena thought of the way she had felt when the call came in from the police. Of the way fear had spasmodically clutched at her heart. “Getting yourself killed would have made quite a difference,” she said cynically.

  Shanna was in no mood for a lecture, especially not from her mother. “I’m still alive.” She tugged on her hand, but her mother’s grip only tightened.

  “And what do you intend to do about it?”

  Shanna tried to focus on the question. The noise in her head was amplifying as the pain increased. “About being alive?”

  “Yes, and about Mr. Hot Pants.” Personally, Rheena would have liked nothing better than to see him tied to the rear end of a car and dragged, naked, over broken glass. The feeling of revenge warred with her inherent desire to avoid the hint of scandal.

  “Divorce him.”

  Her daughter’s answer surprised Rheena. She realized that she was waiting for her daughter to say something ineffectual about forgiving Jordan because he was under so much stress or something equally lame. She looked at her daughter with new respect. “No second chances?”

  The corners of Shanna’s mouth lifted in an ironic smile that hurt for more reasons than one. “I think Jordan’s been living on second chances for a long time now, Mother.”

  Well, well, well, the worm has turned. It’s about time. Rheena’s smile was warm, almost maternal. “You’re a lot smarter than I gave you credit for, Shanna.” She rose, still holding her daughter’s hand in hers. It was her turn to offer comfort. “It’ll be his loss.”

  “I know.” Her headache was now unbearable. Shanna pressed her lips together as a sudden excruciating pain claimed the top of her skull.

  Shanna gripped her mother’s hand more firmly than Rheena had thought she was capable of, given the circumstances. “Pain?” she asked, concerned.

  “Yes,” Shanna whispered.

  Rheena let go of Shanna’s hand as she turned toward the door. “I’ll call for the nurse. She can give you something for it.”

  Tears slid down Shanna’s cheek. She was too weak to hold them back any longer. “They haven’t got anything for this kind of pain, Mother.”

  “Of course they do, Shanna,” Rheena said firmly, trying to infuse her daughter with the will that had always seen her through her own travails. “They call it time. I’ll let you rest now. Your father’s on his way to Illinois. I left a message at all three offices and the house. When he arrives, I’m sure he’ll turn around and get the next flight home again. Together we’ll cut your about-to-be ex-husband into little bloody ribbons.” She smiled, relishing the thought. “He’ll wish he was never born.”

  “No, Mother.”

  “Second thoughts?” Shanna’s spirit had had a short life, Rheena thought in disappointment.

  “No, no second thoughts. He’s just not worth the effort, that’s all. Besides, I don’t believe in revenge.”

  “A pity,” Rheena murmured, her hand on the door. “I always have.”

  “I know,” Shanna mumbled as she slipped into a merciful sleep. “But I’m not you, Mother.”

  As she fell into a deep sleep Shanna could have sworn she heard the word bravo. It sounded like her grandmother’s voice, but it could have been her mother’s. She wasn’t sure and much too tired to wonder about it any longer.

  Chapter 11

  Shanna slept intermittently for the next thirty-six hours. Her sleep was dreamless and her body mended. To ascertain the extent of her internal injuries, the doctor ordered a series of tests performed on her.

  Her mother returned, this time with Shanna’s father. The senator’s face was deeply lined with concern. Shanna couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so old or so worn. It touched her that he cared so much. It made the emptiness within her not quite so vast.

  Her mother had told the senator that Shanna wanted a divorce. The reasons why she left for Shanna to explain.

  The senator wasn’t happy about the idea of a divorce in his family. Despite the times, he had a very old-fashioned view of the institution of marriage. He was mystified that Shanna actually wanted to leave Jordan. She had appeared to be so much in love with the man.

  “Perhaps there could be a reconciliation,” the senator suggested gently.

  She had made up her mind. It was the only thing she had to hang on to. Shanna slowly shook her head, promising herself that this time she wouldn’t cry. “No, no reconciliations.”

  She looked so pale, Brady thought, lying there. So frail. Perhaps it was just her confusion speaking. “You’re sure?”

  Shanna pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Brady took his daughter’s hand, patting it. He felt horribly awkward. It was a new role for him. Part of him still thought of Shanna as a child. Perhaps it was because he had never gotten to know her during that period. And now she was a woman. How did one parent a woman? What did one say? “Perhaps after you’ve recovered—“

  “I have recovered,” Shanna answered with a sad smile. “From Jordan.” Her father’s kind blue eyes urged her to go on, but she didn’t want to recount the sordid details. What was the point? “I don’t want to be married to him anymore, Dad. Please don’t ask me why.”

  Brady glanced at his wife, but Rheena, for once, refrained from speaking what she knew. Gossip was fine about others, but not about her own. Rheena shrugged. “She’s apparently made up her mind.”

  Funny, just a little while ago, he would have commented that Shanna had no real mind of her own. She merely conformed. Now he knew otherwise.

  “If that’s what you want.” He sighed, thinking of the primary. “It makes it rather awkward, backing him for the election when my own daughter’s rejected him.”

  Nothing would ever be publicly awkward for her father, Shanna thought. That was what made him Senator Brady. “Love and politics have nothing to do with each other, Dad. You’ve always said that. Back him if you believe what he says. Withdraw if you don’t.” Brady studied his daughter silently and made a mental note to have Haggerty look into the situation. If Shanna didn’t want to tell him what was going on, someone else would. There was always someone willing to fill in the details in Washington. For now it was enough that Shanna was alive and apparently recovering. He had seen a photograph of the car she’d been
driving that night. It was mangled beyond recognition. He refused to entertain the possibility of what might have been.

  Test after test was run. It seemed to Shanna that they left no stone unturned in an effort to pinpoint just what sort of damage had been done by the accident. Her vision was still blurry and the doctor had ordered a CAT scan of the head to determine the extent of the optic-nerve damage, if any.

  “I feel,” she muttered to her nurse as she was being wheeled out of one of the X-ray labs that catacombed the ground floor of the hospital, “as if I’m having a complete overhaul.”

  “Think of it as a fine-tuning. Besides, nothing’s too good for the senator’s daughter,” the nurse added cheerfully as she pushed her wheelchair into the elevator.

  The words left a bitter taste in Shanna’s mouth, quite the opposite of the nurse’s intent. Shanna knew that her parents had donated a large sum of money to the hospital. It seemed that everywhere she turned, her lineage was there to haunt her, even though it wasn’t meant to.

  Just something else to come to terms with, she told herself.

  Bringing her to her room, the nurse left to see about getting Shanna a late lunch, since testing had run past lunchtime. Shanna struggled back into her bed. Behind her, she heard the door to her suite being opened again.

  Another test, she wondered wearily, another set of hands to poke and prod and find nothing? It was amazing how many working parts there were to the human body, she mused as she pulled the cover around herself.

  “I’m not going for any more tests,” she said half seriously before looking in the direction of her visitor. “I’ve just been shaken up, not apart.”

  Her smile froze.

  Jordan stood in the doorway. He held a cut-glass vase with three dozen long-stem yellow roses arranged in it. His smile was warm, loving, and left her completely cold.

  “Hi, how do you feel?”

  She stiffened and pain lanced through her at the minor movement. She didn’t want Jordan here, why did he persist in returning? She scowled at the flowers. Yellow roses. They were her favorite. He was using, she thought, every weapon at his disposal. Was he that afraid? “Like I was hit by a car. Inside and out.”