"What are you doing?" she asked, when she walked into the bedroom.
“Packing."
"Why?"
"Why do you think? You've made your choice and I need time. I love you, Andrea," he said angrily, "but I need time. Time and space. I'll check into another room."
"You really think you've given me a choice? You may like to think that, but what you're really saying is for me to do it your way and have an abortion. I don't like it your way.
Kurt. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Wait around until you decide if my pregnancy is acceptable to you and fits into your plans? You know, Kurt, I don't need this turmoil in my life or in my child's life. Maybe it's best you leave. After we get back home, I'll find another place to live. After all, it's your house."
"Don't be a smart‑ass. It's your home now. Don't worry, I'll support it, but I never, do you hear what I'm saying, never want to see it. Never," he said furiously.
"Don't worry, you won't," she answered shakily.
Kurt placed his hand on the door knob and turned. "Damn you, Andrea. Why? Why?" he asked, stone faced. He picked up his luggage slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After he left, Andrea stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth open, body trembling in shock. Only after her anger had died down did she begin to realize how selfish she was. She should have tried to find out what was behind his rage. She was so focused on having a baby that never once had she wondered if there was a serious psychological problem behind his decision. She'd been too concerned about her own needs, her own happiness. She remembered Emily mentioning their childhood had been unhappy, but she never went into detail.
"Why," she said to her reflection in the mirror, "why have I been the ostrich with my head in the sand? Why haven’t I insisted we talk about Kurt's childhood? His parents must be the reason for his rage and hostility. Maybe it's not too late." Andrea called the front desk to ask for Kurt's room number. At first the person at the desk would not give her the number but with some persuasion, he gave it to her. She quickly threw on some clothes and took the elevator to his floor.
She stood in front of the closed door, waiting a few seconds before she knocked. "Kurt, please open the door."
"No, Andrea. I'm not willing to go another round with you,” he slurred.
"I'm sorry for being selfish. I know you've had problems growing up. Please, make me understand. Please, darling."
"Go away. I told you. I don't want to see you. Just go away."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As sunset approached, Andrea made the decision to call Grayson and go to Wyndemere in Taos. Her nerves were stretched so tight that she felt them pulling and screaming under her skin.
The pulsating rhythm in her head would not let up. She looked out of the window at the quietness. A slight wind had taken the snow and spewed it over the empty streets. When she heard her own sigh, she pressed her head against the cold window, letting it numb her forehead. She knew she couldn't go back to New York right now. Grayson would take her in and support her through this situation. Suddenly, she felt like butterfly wings fluttering inside her. “I know you’re there, my love. I wish your father was here to feel you.” She rubbed her stomach. “Don’t worry. Your mother is here to take care of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The phone continued to ring. Grayson tripped as she rushed to answer it. "Hello! Hello!” Is anyone there?” she asked. “Damn, this happens all the time when it gets too cold.” She hung up and headed back to the living room when the phone rang once again. “Who is this,” she shouted.
“Grayson, it’s Andrea.”
Grayson heard Andrea’s sobs through the phone. “Andrea dear, calm down. Where are you?”
“I’m in Vail.”
“You're in Vail? Please stop crying and tell me what happened."
"Kurt walked out on me."
"What? No! Why?"
"I'm pregnant."
"You're what? Oh Andrea. I thought you had discussed having a family, and you both decided to wait a few years."
"To tell you the truth, Grayson, we never discussed the issue. Kurt always avoided it. He'd just say let's wait a couple of years, end of discussion. I never wanted to face the truth so I procrastinated. But, today, he laid his cards on the table. He told me he never wanted children. He thought that if we waited at least two years, I'd get used to the idea of not having kids and enjoy the freedom we both shared. Even if I hadn't gotten pregnant now, Grayson, I still would have wanted children. And I guess he would have eventually left me."
"Come to Taos."
"Oh Grayson, I had hoped you'd ask. I'll get a plane into Santa Fe and rent a car and drive up to Taos."
"No, I'll have a driver meet you. It's about a sixty‑five mile drive from the airport. I don't want you driving in your condition. The roads are treacherous this time of year."
"I'll be fine. The drive will do me good. It'll give me time to sort things out and decide what I'm going to do. I'll be okay. Don't worry. Before I start the drive up, I'll call you."
"Just take your time.” Grayson paused. “It will probably take you two hours at the most. I'll expect you late afternoon. I can't wait to see you, Dear. Please be careful, okay."
"I will. See you later today. Love you, Grayson."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I can't believe everything is running so smoothly, Andrea thought, taking the keys of the rental car from the clerk. The clerk gave her directions and advised her to drive with caution. Two more inches of snow had fallen and the roads were slick. The back of her neck prickled. A flash of warning raced through her thoughts, but she shrugged off the feeling, thanked him for the information, and left. Once settled in the car, she pulled out the slip of paper with Grayson's phone number and the directions to La Wyndemere de Taos.
The mountain slopes, covered in snow, made it almost impossible to see the dark‑green pines poking through the white fluff. As hard as she tried to concentrate on the road ahead,
Kurt's words echoed in her mind. I never want to see that child. Never.
The more she thought, the guiltier she felt. Maybe she should consider an abortion. "Oh God, I can't do that. Kurt, you really wouldn't want me to do something like that." One minute she hated him, the next minute her body tingled from the thought of his touch. Why did I leave? she wondered. I was wrong. Kurt, I was wrong to run away . . . but I must run . . . Let's try to find a way. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want our baby. Aware that she gripped the wheel like a vise, she tried to relax. She unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned forward to wipe the clouded windshield. Too late, she saw the red truck coming toward her. She yanked the wheel, frantically trying to get out of its way.
She fought for control, but the collision of metal against metal sent her head slamming against the windshield. Dimly, she saw the cluster of trees and smelled burnt rubber. She closed her eyes against a bright white blinding light. When she opened them again there was nothing but black and silence. She was cold and wet. She tried to wipe the snow from her face, but her arms wouldn't move. Trying again, she groaned in agony as pain riveted up and down her spine. "My baby," she screamed. The rancid odor of gas and smoke swirled around her. Then darkness took over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The trucker rushed to the mangled car. The door had flown open and the woman inside lay partially out of the car. "Lady, I need to get you out of the car.” Andrea moaned when he pulled her out and carried her away. He laid her down under tall pine trees. "Lady, lady," the trucker shouted. "Help is on the way. Hang in there." He ran back to his truck for a blanket. “Here, lady, here’s a blanket. This will keep you warm.” He felt her hands and they were still very cold. “You'll be okay lady. Just hang in there. Talk to me, lady. You have to stay awake. Don't pass out on me. Please, lady, don’t pass out." He rubbed her covered hands and tried to keep them warm.
The snow fell thickly now. The trucker frequently brush
ed it from her face. Blood flowed from her head and face and crystallized. "I'm really sorry, pretty lady," he said, wiping the tears from his face. "Where in the hell is the emergency crew," he yelled into the night.
The trucker stood for a moment to see if anyone was nearby to help him. He couldn't believe the extent of the accident. There were about five, maybe six vehicles involved. It looked as if a child had taken his Tonka trucks and cars and thrown them into a snow bank. People staggered from all the vehicles. No one seemed to be hurt too badly. A steady glow of flashlights moved in his direction. "Thank God," he said. The driver stooped down and held Andrea's hands. "Help's comin’, lady."
From one direction he heard, "Does anyone need help?"
From another, "Over here, over here."
From another, "We're fine. You okay?"
In the distance he heard sirens. Finally, some of accident victims gathered around the trucker and Andrea.
"She going to be okay?" a young boy asked.
The trucker shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, kid.” He continued to rub Andrea's hands and talk to her. Motorists stopped to see if they could be of any help and pulled blankets from their cars to cover the injured.
"Lady, help is almost here. Can you hear the sirens? Lady?" The trucker felt for the pulse in her neck. “Jesus.” He checked her wrist. "Help me," he cried frantically. "I'm losing her." He quickly started CPR. The trucker and the young boy took turns working on her. "One, two three. One, two, three," he repeated over and over again. "Lady, come on," he pleaded in desperation. "Don't give up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Good night,” Grayson said to the last guests who had left the dining room. Dinner had lasted longer than usual and she had lost track of time. She checked her watch. Andrea should have arrived by now. She began to worry. When the kitchen phone rang she smiled. Andrea must have decided to stop at a hotel because of the storm, she thought. This must be her now.
“Andrea, where are . . . .?”
“Hello Ma’am. Are you Grayson Garrison of the Wyndemere de Taos?”
“Yes, I am.”
"This is Sergeant McKinney from the Santa Fe Sheriff's Department. We have an accident victim, Andrea Purcell, at St. Vincent Regional Medical Center. She was clutching a piece of paper with your name and telephone number. Are you a relative?"
"Is she all right? What happened? Oh my God! I'm on my way."
"Ma'am, listen to me," he demanded. "Are you a relative?"
"No, I'm not. She has a husband, but I'm the closest person she has right now."
"Ma'am, the weather is nasty out there. Stay where you. I'll send a car out for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kurt poured another glass of scotch. How could he tell Andrea of the vivid memories of his childhood? How his father teased him was bad enough, but being scared, really scared all the time when the man was home. He’d say things to Kurt’s mother like: This boy can't be our son. Look at that ugly face. I bet they switched babies on us in the hospital. Why don't we take him back?" Kurt took another slug of the scotch. Dear old Dad had said that to him in front of his friends at his six-year-old birthday party.
He remembered running to his room and slamming the door. His father followed him shouting, "Can't you take a joke, you wimp?"
One week later the physical abuse began. After a night of taunting, Kurt barricaded himself in his room and hid in the closet. His father banged on the door, shouting obscenities. Then the bastard crashed through the door, through the barricade, and into the bedroom. The closet door flew open and his father grabbed him and threw him in the corner. The monster began to beat him with his belt. But it wouldn't be the last time he was beaten. As long as his father lived, Kurt was constantly taunted and beaten. Why does my Dad do this to me, he’d ask himself, Would peace ever come to me? he thought. Peace finally did come when his father died. And with the peace came the terrible burden of guilt. A guilt spawned by a child hating his father not loving him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Kurt sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as an excruciating headache pounded at his temples. Last night, he'd finished the bottle of scotch and let the darkness press down on him. Now it was morning and he must face the day. A rush of bitter remembrance engulfed him. He should go to Andrea and talk to her. He should tell her his reasons for not wanting children. He stood and quickly fell back onto the bed, pressing his hands to his temples and applying pressure. He scanned the room. "Where in the hell did I put my bag? God, do I need an Advil." He found his bag in the bathroom when he remembered where he’d put it the night before. He took a pill, and stood at the window.
A sheet of cold, gray clouds covered the sky, dropping giant snowflakes onto the already snowy ground. He debated about going to her room. Finally, he decided to wait until he showered and shaved. He’d call room service and order dinner to be delivered to their room about eight o'clock. He thought a quiet dinner would help them come to some kind of an agreement. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Grayson sat in the visitor's room waiting for news of Andrea's condition. She checked her watch and walked over to the nurse’s station. "Excuse me," she said, "I've been here since eight o’clock and it is now eleven, could you please give me some information on the condition of Andrea Purcell? She came in earlier this evening."
Annoyed, the tired nurse looked up at Grayson. "She just returned from surgery and they're getting her settled into a room right now," she said, waving her hand for Grayson to be seated. "I'll let you know when you can go in."
"Thank you," Grayson said, and began a steady pacing. She waited for at least another hour before the nurse directed her to the ICU. When she entered the room, the nurse inside whispered, "She still hasn't regained consciousness. Try talking to her. Your voice may bring her around.” The nurse went to the door. “The doctor should be here shortly,” she said.
"Thank you." Emotion engulfed Grayson as she peered down at Andrea and the mass of tubes. She was unrecognizable from of all the cuts, bruises, stitches, and the thick gauze that was wrapped around her head. "Dear God!" Grayson murmured. She leaned over and kissed Andrea’s cheek.
"Hello, I'm Doctor Reynolds. Are you Andrea's mother?"
"No. I’m Grayson Garrison,” she said. Grayson dabbed the tears from her eyes with a white handkerchief. “Her parents are deceased and I'm a very close family friend. Is she going to pull through, Doctor?"
“Well, it's a little to soon to tell. She's been unconscious since she was admitted. She's had a severe head injury. We've relieved the pressure on the brain, but it'll be at least twenty-four hours before we'll know anything definite."
"Oh, my God!” Grayson's hand rose to her mouth. "The baby?"
Dr. Reynolds grabbed Grayson before she hit the floor. "Come over here and sit down. I'll get a nurse to give you a sedative."
"No. No. No sedatives. I'm okay. Just tell me about the baby."
"As far as we know, the baby is fine. As soon as we can, we'll do an ultrasound to make sure. It’s a miracle that Mrs. Purcell didn’t go through the windshield.” The doctor paused. “The air bag never discharged. They found Mrs. Purcell hanging out of the driver’s side of the car.”
Grayson brought her hands to her face. “Oh, dear God.”
“How can we get in touch with her husband? The officer who responded to the accident found her purse with her identification. He called her home in Kinderhook, New York, but no one answered. He did leave a message on the answering machine to call the Sheriff’s office, but so far no one has called. Do you know how to get in touch with Mr. Purcell?"
"I know they were on holiday in Vail for the week. They had a lovers quarrel, and she decided to spend a few days with me. Kurt, her husband, is probably still at the hotel."
"What hotel?"
"I don't know. She never mentioned it. Probably the Sonnenalp Resort Hotel.”
"What makes you thi
nk he’s there?"
"That's where he proposed to her, and after all, it is Valentine's week," she smiled. "Let me call Andrea's sister-in-law, Emily. She'll know for sure. She may have heard from, Kurt."
"There's a phone right over there," he said to Grayson, helping her walk over to the night table beside Andrea's bed.
Grayson dialed and waited. The phone rang until the answering machine picked up. "God, I hate these things," she mumbled, and waited for the beep. "Emily, this is Grayson, Grayson Garrison. Call me as soon . . . ."
"Hello, Grayson. What's the matter?"
"Would you happen to know where Kurt and Andrea were staying?"
"Sure," she said happily. "Do you plan to surprise them or something?"
"No, no. Andrea’s had a car accident. She just came out of surgery and is in the ICU. She’s bad. Really bad.” Grayson began to cry. “We need to get in touch with Kurt right away."
"I don't understand what you're saying. Are you in Vail?"
"No, I'm at the St. Francis Regional Medical Center in Santa Fe."
"What . . . .?”
"Andrea had called me at the Inn. She told me she and Kurt had a terrible argument. He started drinking and he walked out on her. She asked if she could come to Taos and stay with me for awhile."
"That's impossible. There's some mistake. First of all, Kurt is not a drinker and secondly, he would never walk out of her. Never! He loves her too much."
"I know, I know. But . . . Andrea told him she's pregnant. Did you know?"
"Oh my God. No, I didn't."
"Well,” Grayson paused. “When she told Kurt, he became enraged. He began to drink. About an hour later, when she tried to talk to him, she said he stormed out of their room and took a room in another part of the hotel. She went to his room and he was drinking heavily. She tried once again to talk to him, but he asked her to go away. That's when she decided to come to Taos."
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