by John Muncie
Not Marius, however. He claimed he’d ridden as a young boy in Bohemia, but many days had passed since then, and his riding skills were rudimentary at best. While Poli was normally calm, he had a thoroughbred’s heightened sensitivity. Alyssa had taken Poli on trail rides before, but never with ATVs whizzing by. She had no idea how he’d react.
She glanced back up the trail.
“They must be heading for the lake, same as us,” she said to Abbi. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Roy won’t even notice. But I’m going to ride next to Marius and have Nattie ride back here with you.”
Alyssa pressed her legs against Theo’s sides and he half jigged, half cantered up to Nattie. “If the ATVs come close or want to pass, Lane may jump around a bit but he won’t do anything stupid. You’ll be fine. Just let Abbi catch up with you and keep an eye on her.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have made that crack about wanting some drama,” said Nattie.
“At least we haven’t seen any rattlesnakes,” Alyssa said, forcing a laugh.
Alyssa then edged Theo next to Poli. The engine noise had turned into two distinct, and louder, roars. Theo began to prance and blow short, hard puffs of air through his nose. Poli’s ears flicked back and forth and his eyes widened, the whites shining like headlights in the trailside shade.
“Easy, boy,” Alyssa said to Theo, and in the same measured voice said to Marius, who appeared as nervous as his mount, “All you have to do is sit still and talk to him. Just like I’m doing.”
Behind them, the roars grew louder. Poli started jigging in step with Theo, bouncing Marius around in the saddle.
“Grip with your legs, Marius, and try not to pull back so much on his reins,” Alyssa said.
Then she stroked her hand down Theo’s sweaty neck and swung around again to look up the hill. Just as she did, a red ATV barreled up over the ridge, slammed into a bump at the crest, and launched into the air. It thudded down on the trail and headed straight toward the four horses, a plume of dust rising behind it like a mini-tornado.
Alyssa grabbed both reins in one hand and pumped the air furiously with the other. “Slow down! Slow down! Slow down!” she yelled.
The kid at the wheel waved back and nodded, bringing his mud-caked vehicle to a sudden stop about twenty yards behind Lane. But just as he did, another ATV hurtled over the ridge even faster, jumping even higher. When it hit the trail, the driver jammed on his brakes. But it was too late. He plowed into the back of the first ATV with a loud Whoomp!
The horses exploded. Even Roy. He bolted to the side, throwing Abbi into a patch of raspberries. Lane leapt to the left, much like a flying Lipizzaner, though Nattie managed to stay mounted. Poli reared straight up and Marius, panicking, grabbed Theo’s bridle as he was catapulted backwards.
The sudden jerk sent Theo into a frenzy. He whipped his head hard to the right to free himself. As he tried to spin out from what must have seemed like an attack, his hind legs slipped under him and he toppled to the ground, throwing Alyssa back-first into a tree stump.
Then, struggling to stand, Theo flailed out with his legs to gain traction and, before she could move out of the way, kicked Alyssa in the stomach.
“I can’t breathe,” she gasped.
CHAPTER 53
It took the medevac helicopter twenty-five minutes to reach the field by Cove Lake. The 911 operator had told Abbi not to move Alyssa, just to sit tight and keep her talking.
“Don’t let her fall asleep,” the operator said.
As the two boys on the ATVs watched nervously by their vehicles, Marius held Alyssa’s hand and Nattie pressed her shirt, which she’d dipped in the cool lake water, against Alyssa’s forehead.
“She’s still having a hard time breathing,” Abbi said to the emergency operator, her voice rising. “How much longer before they get here?”
“Any minute,” said the operator. “But you have to stay calm. If you get excited, she will, too.”
“Listen, here it comes,” Nattie said. She pointed to ridgeline in back of them. The distinctive whacka-whacka-whacka sound of the approaching helicopter got stronger and stronger. Then from over Mount Buck it appeared. It landed in the meadow and two EMTs jumped from the open doors and ran up the trail toward them, carrying a folded stretcher.
“Anyone else hurt?” one of them shouted over the roar of the helicopter as the other started examining Alyssa.
The three of them shook their heads, as did the ATVers. Abbi had only suffered some scrapes. Marius, who’d stopped his fall by grabbing on to Theo’s bridle, had miraculously landed on his feet. And Nattie had never come off. One of the ATV drivers had been thrown onto the trail, but hadn’t been hurt.
Alyssa was scared. She’d gotten the breath knocked out of her plenty of times from falling off horses. It was always shocking at first, feeling like the front and back of her body had been vacuum-sealed together. But then her lungs would unstick and expand, allowing her to breathe again.
Not this time. When she hit the tree stump it felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to her back. And then, when Theo’s hoof caught her in the stomach, it felt like her insides exploded. By the time Nattie had run over to her and Alyssa had pointed to the cell phone on her belt loop, she could barely say, “Call 911.” Now, a half hour later, each breath was still shallow and excruciating.
“Something’s really wrong,” Alyssa said to the EMT. “Am I going to die?”
The EMT, a thirtyish woman with short red hair, took Alyssa’s hand as the other tightened a blood pressure cuff on her arm. “You’ll be fine. We’re going to get you to the hospital. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry.”
They lifted her onto the stretcher and carried her to the helicopter. Over the deafening roar, the red-haired EMT yelled, “I’m going to cover your face with the sheet.” She motioned to the whirling blades. “It’ll kick up dirt and hit you in the face otherwise.”
Abbi, Nattie, and Marius watched as they loaded Alyssa feet first into the helicopter and twirled up into the sky.
“We’ve gotta call Darryl,” Marius said.
“And Tug,” said Abbi.
CHAPTER 54
The young woman with the cap of spiky brown hair sat by the bed in room 813 of Fairfax Hospital. She’d spent the night in the recliner chair, reading and dozing. She had dark, deep-set eyes that turned down slightly, and an aquiline nose. She was slight, small-chested, and narrow-hipped; her skin had the translucent quality of someone who spent more time under fluorescent lights than the sun.
She was the first person Alyssa woke to that morning.
“Roz?” Alyssa said. She could barely get her mouth to form the word. When she blinked, her eyes moved in slow motion. Everything was confused. She felt as if she were at the bottom of a cave looking up at her daughter. But Roz was in Chicago.
“Roz?” she said again.
The young woman squeezed her mother’s hand. She’d been holding it on and off through the night.
“Mom, it’s me. I’m here,” Roz said.
Alyssa closed her eyes and was overcome by a swirl of confused images: A white sheet pulled over her head, a whirring roar, a redheaded woman she didn’t recognize, bright lights, people in green masks. She fluttered her eyelids open.
“You’re in the hospital,” Roz said. “You had an accident. They had to operate, but you’re going to be okay.”
Roz leaned down and kissed her mother’s cheek. “You’re going to be okay,” she repeated. She was crying.
Alyssa reached up and wiped away Roz’s tears, as if she were a little girl again. “What happened?” she asked.
Roz told her about the accident, the helicopter ride, and the operation. “You lacerated your liver, Mom,” she said. “Could you try to cut back on the drama a little? You scared the you-know-what out of Daddy and me.”
Alyssa started to laugh and a jolt of pain jabbed through her insides.
“But the cool thing is they didn’t have to cut you open or anything l
ike that. They went in through a vein in your leg and blew foam around the liver to stop the bleeding. Just like you’d insulate a house.”
Afraid to laugh again, Alyssa smiled. “I love you, Noodles,” she said. “You can’t know how good it is to see you.”
Normally, the use of her old nickname would have warranted at least an eye roll, but Roz let it pass. “Daddy’s downstairs getting coffee,” she said. “I’m gonna run down and get him. He’s been a basket case.”
But Alyssa held on to her hand. “No, can you wait a few minutes, please? Just sit with me for a little bit. It all seems like a dream, I’m so tired and I don’t even know if I’m dreaming now . . .” Alyssa closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, everything was mixed up again. Darryl was sitting in the chair Roz had been in. Roz was in another chair next to him. Why were they there? Where was she? Alyssa opened and closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the images.
“It’s all the drugs, Liss,” Darryl said, taking her hand. “The doctors told me you’d be a little out of it until the anesthesia works its way out of your system.”
Alyssa nodded, but it was like standing up too quickly. As she waited for the dizziness to pass, she slowly began to remember: Riding accident. Operation. Liver insulation.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m having a hard time keeping things straight.”
Darryl leaned back. “Understandable,” he said. “Your body’s suffered a major shock. How do you feel?”
“I hurt. My stomach feels like it was used for batting practice.”
“It was. Or more accurately, kicking practice. Those damn horses.”
Roz nudged her father’s shoulder. “Daaad,” she said. “Now’s not the time to start in on the horses.”
“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay.” He leaned forward and kissed Alyssa on the forehead. “The doctors say you’ll be fine. They think you’ll be up and around in a few days.”
A nurse came in to check on medicines and offer some orange juice. By the time she left, Alyssa was alert enough to sit up and hear the story of urgent phone calls and plane flights and how Darryl and Roz came to be at her side.
“Daddy didn’t want me to fly out at night. God, sometimes he’s worse than you.” Roz stood up and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and put her cheek against his. Alyssa looked at the two faces. They bore a startling resemblance to one another, down to their nostrils, which curved like perfect little question marks.
“Don’t stop talking,” Alyssa mumbled, “even if I drift off again.”
Roz continued her travelogue. Darryl added a few comments, but mostly Roz talked.
“Don’t stop,” Alyssa mumbled again, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Don’t leave.”
Roz squeezed her mother’s hand. “Mom, we’re here, we’re not going anywhere.”
The sound of their chatter soothed her. She felt buffered by their words and their presence. She closed her eyes. An image came to her of a camping trip they’d made to the Poconos a million years ago. It was as clear as a photograph: Darryl and Roz trying to start a campfire; Roz wearing a Girl Scout hat.
She felt Roz’s hand on hers. She sank deep into the pillow and her dreams.
“Hi. Can I came in and see the patient?” Abbi stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Rozzie. Hello, Darryl.”
Abbi entered with a flourish of flowers, then saw Alyssa asleep.
“Oops,” she said and tiptoed over to the sill, where she put a big spray of purple wildflowers from Limespring.
Alyssa stirred and saw Abbi. Things were getting clearer, faster. She remembered where she was and how’d she gotten there.
“Hi Abbi,” she said weakly. “Thanks for calling Roz and Darryl.”
Abbi leaned over to kiss Alyssa on the cheek. “You scared the holy crap out of us,” she said. “I made so many deals with God, I can’t swear, drink, or talk poorly about successful writers for the next three years.”
Alyssa started to laugh, then groaned. “Damn, I forgot. It hurts to laugh.”
Abbi stood by the bedside and filled in the details of the trail ride Alyssa had forgotten.
“Marius landed on his feet?” Alyssa said. “Unbelievable. I thought he was a goner. It’s a miracle none of you were hurt.”
“Some miracle,” said Darryl. “More like a cosmic joke.”
“Daddy!” said Roz.
“Darryl,” Alyssa snapped at him.
Abbi said nothing.
“Sorry. That was stupid. I’m just upset. It’s no fun getting an emergency call in the middle of a meeting saying your wife’s just been medevaced to the hospital. It was a long night and I need to get some sleep. Liss, I’ll be back this afternoon. Need anything from home?”
Alyssa shook her head.
Darryl stood to leave, leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “You want to stay or come home?”
“Stay,” Roz said.
After Darryl left, Abbi went to the cafeteria to get lunch. Roz had brought her drawings—the famous cabinet detail—and gave her mother a full presentation.
In the middle of it, she stopped and asked, “Is everything okay with Daddy? He seems kind of, I don’t know . . . weird. This morning when we were talking about the farm and stuff, I asked him how the Follies went. All I could get out of him was, ‘Fine.’ He didn’t even take pictures this year. Is something wrong?”
Alyssa squeezed Roz’s hand. “Don’t worry, sweetie. He was just worried about me. You know how men are, they can’t multitask. Tell me more about Mr. Brighton’s dream house.”
CHAPTER 55
By the time Tug got to Fairfax Hospital it was five-thirty and he’d been on the road for seven and a half hours. The drive down from New York had been a nightmare, thanks to a pileup on I-95 north of Baltimore and the usual rush-hour parking lot clotting the American Legion Bridge between Maryland and Virginia.
He felt trapped inside his car as his foot tap-danced between accelerator and brake, inching his way through the northern Virginia bottleneck. “Don’t kill yourself on the way down,” Jackie had said on the phone, assuring him that Alyssa had come through surgery successfully and everything looked good. But once he heard the words “lacerated liver,” her assurances flew out the window.
He had visions of her in a hospital bed, tubes running in and out of her arms, her liver shredded to coleslaw. He wanted to jam the pedal to the floor and blast his way to Alyssa.
It didn’t help that he was half-dead from lack of sleep. The previous four days in New York had been as manic as a Marx Brothers movie. When he arrived at the gallery, the show was in disarray. It turned out that half the works wouldn’t arrive for days and others didn’t fit the teenage theme. The first hour he was there, three artists delivered ultimatums and Joel nearly punched out one of them.
Tug and Joel were in the middle of negotiating with graphic artist Tari Smolens—she wanted her drawings on the bedroom door, Joel had promised that position to someone else—when Margaux walked in.
“Uh-oh,” said Joel, “more trouble. And this one’s all yours, Tug.”
They watched the tall brunette approach. Every straight guy in the room watched her approach. She wore tight blue jeans and a black T-shirt, no bra. She was shorter than Tug by an inch, but her legs were longer than his by two. Her hair was pulled straight back in a ponytail, exaggerating the upward sweep of her cheeks. She looked like a Modigliani portrait come to life. Tug had forgotten how she parted a room when she walked in. He’d also forgotten the thrill he felt each time he knew she was walking toward him.
Joel leaned over and out of the side of his mouth said, “Tell me again why you want to take a step back from her?”
“Right now I’m not sure,” said Tug.
Joel turned to the irate artist next to them and said, “Tari, let’s figure it all out tomorrow. We’ll get you a great display. I promise.” Then he folded his arms and waited for the fireworks to begin.
Margaux stopped in front of them, looking straight at Tug but addressing his friend. “Are you really going to be able to pull this show together, Joel?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she said to Tug, “So, how’s Limespring? Have you found what you’re looking for?” Her mouth wore the slightest of smiles; her voice gave away nothing.
With her hair pulled back, Tug couldn’t help but notice her earrings. They were dangling gears from an old watch that he’d twisted together with some gold wire and given to her as a Christmas gift. A week later, she had worn them to a New Year’s Eve party. Right before midnight, she’d pulled him into a bedroom and they’d made love in the host’s walk-in closet.
“Yeah, Tug,” Joel chimed in, “I’d like to hear about it, too. Anyway, I’m starving and I need a break before I kill someone. Tell us about the country muses over pizza.”
When they left the gallery, Tug held the door open for Margaux, and as she passed by him, she brushed his ear with her lips and whispered, “You still have a key to my place, don’t you?”
Over dinner, Tug gave Margaux and Joel an expurgated version of his summer. He told them elaborate details about Limespring, his drawing project, and his progress. Finally Farm got a couple of mentions, Alyssa Brown did not. They walked back together afterward, but before Tug could enter the gallery, Margaux held him back.
“Will I see you when you’re finished tonight? I think we need to talk, don’t you?” Her eyes were hooded by the night glare of the street; her lips were slightly parted.
“Did you see the mess in there? We’ll be lucky if—” Tug began. Before he could finish the sentence, Margaux leaned over and kissed him.
“Later,” she said. “Wake me.”
But Tug never left the gallery that night. He and Joel split the twin bed that was part of the exhibit. Tug got the mattress (“I drove five hours to get here,” he reminded his friend); Joel got the box springs.