It was a brilliantly sunny day in August, and Sam did nothing but talk about going home. She was also slightly punchy from the sedative she'd been given, and she giggled a lot and made a number of jokes in poor taste, which everyone laughed at, except Charlie, who was a nervous wreck. Once again he felt the responsibility upon his shoulders, and he felt that if something went wrong now it would be his fault. He shouldn't have pushed, he had rushed them, he should have left her in Denver. The doctor found him halfway through the flight, staring out a rear window, and he gently touched his shoulder and spoke softly so Sam wouldn't hear in case she woke up. She had just gone to sleep.
“It's all right, Peterson. It's almost over. And she's doing fine. Just fine.”
He turned to smile at the doctor. “She may make it, but what about me? I think I've aged twenty years in the last two weeks.”
“It's a very trying experience, for the family as well.” The craziest part was that he wasn't even family, but he was her friend. He would have done it for anyone, for his brother-in-law, for Harvey, for … Sam … he would have sat at Sam's bedside for another month if he had to. He felt so damn sorry for her. What in hell was her life going to be like now? And she had no one, no husband, no boyfriend, that damn cowboy she'd mentioned had run out on her and she didn't even know where he was. Who did she have to take care of her? No one. For the first time in a long time he found himself hating John Taylor again. If the bastard had stuck around, like a decent husband, she wouldn't be alone now. But she was. The bitch of it was that she was all alone. The doctor was watching him as he thought it out, and his hand pressed gently on Charlie's shoulder. “Don't overprotect her, Peterson. It would be a terrible mistake. When the time comes, she'll have to stand on her own, so to speak. She's not married, is she?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, not anymore. And that's what I was just thinking. It's going to be very rough.”
“It will be for a while. But she'll get used to it. Others do. She can lead a full life. She can help herself, help others, she can go back to her job in time. Unless she's a tap dancer by profession, it shouldn't make that much difference, except psychologically. That's where the problems arise. But they won't let her leave Lenox Hill until she's ready, psychologically as well as physically. They'll teach her how to take care of herself, be independent. You'll see. She's a beautiful young woman, a strong one with a fine mind, there's no reason why she shouldn't adjust perfectly.” And then after a moment he gave Charlie's shoulder one last squeeze and smiled. “You made the right decision … both times. It would have been a crime not to operate, to lose that spirit and that mind, and she should be in New York, surrounded by friendly faces.” Charlie turned to look at him then, with gratitude in his eyes.
“Thank you for saying that.” The doctor said nothing. He only patted Charlie's shoulder and went back to take a look at Sam.
Two hours later they landed at Kennedy Airport. The transfer to the large ambulance unit went perfectly smoothly, and a life-support unit with three paramedics traveled alongside. Their lights were flashing but there were no sirens as they made their way along the highway at full speed. And half an hour later they reached Lenox Hill without a problem.
Sam was smiling up at Charlie as they made the last leg of the trip. “It's quicker this way, you know that, no baggage claim to hassle with and no cabs.”
“Look, next time,” Charlie said, grinning at her, “do me a favor. Hassle me a little with the baggage and let's take a cab.”
She grinned up at him, but once they arrived at Lenox Hill, she was busy. It took them more than two hours to process her into the hospital and settle her comfortably in her own room. The doctor assisted with all the arrangements, then she met the new doctor who had been awaiting her arrival, thanks to Harvey once again. When it was all over she and Charlie and the doctor from Denver were all exhausted. The rest of the group had been dispensed with. They had all been paid before the trip and they would all be returning to Denver on the ambulance plane later that evening. The doctor was going to spend a few days in New York observing at Lenox Hill and would return to Denver by commercial jet.
“Think you'll be okay now, Sam?” Charlie looked at her with a tired smile as she accepted a shot and began almost instantly to drift off to sleep.
“Yeah, babe … sure … I'll be fine … give Mellie my love … and thank you.…” Five minutes later he was in the elevator with the doctor, and then he was in a cab, and ten minutes later he was on East Eighty-first Street with his arms tightly around his wife.
“Oh, baby … oh, baby …” He felt as though he had come back from a war zone, and suddenly he realized how desperately he had missed her and how exhausted he was. Sam's tragedy and Charlie's total responsibility for her had been an awesome weight to carry, and he hadn't let himself feel it until now, when suddenly all he wanted to do was make love to his wife. She had had the foresight to have hired a baby-sitter to be with the children, and after they all duly attacked their father, teased and played and ran him ragged, she shooed them off with the baby-sitter, closed the bedroom door, ran a bath for him, gave him a massage, and made love to him, before he smiled at her sleepily and fell asleep in their bed. She woke him up again two hours later, with dinner, champagne, and a little cake she had made for him that said I love you. Welcome home:
“Oh, Mellie, I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” And then, as they ate the cake, “Do you think we should call Sam?” But Charlie shook his head, he had given her all he had to give for a while. Just this once, just tonight, he wanted to be with Mellie. He didn't want to think of the horrible accident, of the gray horse that had haunted him in his sleep for three weeks, of Sam in her plaster cast or her “barbecue” or the fact that she would never walk again. He just wanted to be with his wife, and to make love to her, until he fell into her arms and passed out, which he did shortly after midnight, with a last sleepy yawn and a broad smile.
“Welcome home,” she whispered to him softly as she kissed his neck and turned off the light.
“Mother, I'm fine really … don't be silly … there's no reason for you to come up… oh, for chrissake … yes, of course I'm still in a cast, but I'm fine here. No, I don't want to be moved to Atlanta. I just was moved here from Denver three weeks ago, that's enough … because this is my home, Mother. I don't know anyone in Atlanta. Yes, of course, I have you and George … Mother … now, Mother … please! I don't resent him.…” She rolled her eyes at Melinda as she walked into Sam's hospital room, and made a horrible face at the receiver, mouthing “My mother” to Melinda, who grinned. “Honestly, Mother, the doctor is wonderful, I like him … I know he's competent because he told me so and his mother loves him. Come on, Ma. Give me a break. I'm fine, I'll call you. You can call me. When I feel up to it, I'll come to Atlanta … I don't know when I can go home … but I'll tell you. I promise … no, Mother, I have to go now … the nurse is waiting … no, you can't talk to her … good-bye, Mother.” She hung up then and groaned. “Hi, Mellie. Christ, what did I ever do to get saddled with my mother?”
“She's just worried about you, Sam.”
“I know. But she drives me nuts. She wants to come up here to visit. With George, who wants to consult with my doctor, and turn the whole hospital upside down. Tell me what an ear, nose, and throat man from Georgia can possibly have to contribute to my broken back?” Mellie grinned at the thought. “How's life by you?”
“Okay. How are you?”
“Bored. I want to go home.”
“What do they say?”
“Something inane about patience. How's my namesake?” She beamed at the mention of little Sam.
“Wonderful.” Mellie smiled too. “She does more at two months than any of the boys did at four.”
“It's the name,” Sam assured her with a grin. “Just make sure she doesn't get into trouble with horses.” Mellie didn't answer and Sam sighed. “I wish I knew how long I'll be stuck here.” But Mellie suspect
ed that she didn't really want to know. Charlie had told her that Sam would probably be in the hospital for a year.
She got visits from everyone including Harvey, who sat nervously on the edge of his chair, fingering his hat, toying with his pipe, and staring nervously at Sam in her body cast lying helplessly on the bed.
“Don't look so uptight, for chrissake, Harvey. I won't bite you.”
“Will you sign a document to that effect?”
“I'd be glad to.” He smiled his rueful smile and she asked him when he was going to get smart and fire her.
“I can't, Sam. I'm saving you for my old age. Besides, I just saw the answer print of the first commercial from your great adventure out west. Sam”—he sounded almost breathless with admiration—“if you never do anything in your whole lifetime except lie there and eat chocolates, you can be proud of this.”
“That good?” She sounded stunned. He was generally not lavish with praise. But she had heard from Charlie that morning that the stuff was damn good.
“It's better than that. It's superb. And they say the others will be better still. My dear, I'm in awe.”
She looked at him for a long moment and then grinned at him. “I think I must be dying, for you to be talking like this.”
“Hardly. We'll get it all put on tape for you eventually and bring it up here with a video machine for you to see it before we ever put it on the air. But I'm afraid after all this, Miss Samantha, I really am going to retire and make you C.D.”
“Don't threaten me, Harvey.” She glared at him. “I don't want your damn job, so you stay where you are, or I'll stay here.”
“God forbid.”
He came to see her once or twice a week, Charlie came to visit often at lunchtime, Henry Johns-Adams had already come to see her twice, bringing her a box of divine Godiva chocolates, and his friend had sent her a beautiful bed jacket from Bergdorf's, which she could hardly wait to wear when she got rid of her cumbersome cast. And Georgie, the French poodle, had sent her a get-well card and a book.
But a week later Sam got the visit to end all visits. Despite her protestations that she didn't want a visit from her mother, she arrived from Atlanta with her husband and did her best to turn the whole hospital upside down. She spent several hours trying to convince Samantha to sue her office, that if it weren't for them and their ridiculous commercials, she wouldn't have been on that trip, that it was obviously a dangerous assignment, that they didn't give a damn about her, and that her boss was undoubtedly some kind of a lunatic who didn't care two pins that she was now flat on her back. Her whole tack so enraged Samantha that she asked her to leave and then had to relent when her mother cried and insisted that Sam was a sadistic ingrate determined to break her mother's heart. On the whole it was an exhausting meeting, which left Samantha shaking and pale, but not nearly as upset as she was when her mother and George returned to see her the next day. They entered Sam's room with identical funereal expressions and it was clear that her mother had been crying, and once she sat down, she started again.
“Good God, Mother, what's the matter?” It made Sam nervous just to see them, and she was already upset. She had called Caroline Lord that morning to see how Bill was, and learned that he had had another heart attack, this one more serious than the first one. And chained to her bed in her body cast at Lenox Hill Hospital, she could do nothing to help Caro, and she suddenly felt useless and hemmed in. But Caro had been much more upset about the accident. She bit back the information about her own misfortune, thinking Caro had enough in her heart to carry around, but Charlie had obviously already told her. Caro was frantic with worry. Like all horsepeople, she knew the dangers involved but she nevertheless was in a state of shock over Sam. She made Sam promise that she would call again. And if not, she would call Sam herself when she had a free moment from Bill.
But now all thought of Aunt Caro was pushed from her mind as she faced her mother, who was, as always, elegantly dressed, in a blue linen suit and a white silk blouse. She wore neat little spectator pumps and three strands of pearls and pearl earrings, and although she was a little plump woman of sixty, she still had the same extravagantly beautiful hair as Sam. Hers was snow-white now, but once it had been as gold as Sam's. Her husband was tall and handsome and looked more like a naval captain than a doctor. He was barrel chested and florid, with a great shock of snowy white hair.
“Oh, Samantha …” her mother lamented as George held her hand and she sat back, almost inert, in the chair.
“For chrissake, what's wrong?” Samantha suddenly had an odd, creeping feeling, as though something terrible were about to happen to her, or maybe it already had.
“Oh, Samantha …”
“Jesus.” If she could have, she'd have screamed, or maybe just tapped her feet. But her feet had only tingled and hung like dead meat since her body had been surrounded by what felt like cement. The nurses all told her that it was normal to feel that way in a body cast, and Sam had found that comforting. For a while there she had been worried that her legs were shot. “So what's up, guys?” She eyed them with irritation and hostility. She couldn't wait for them to go home. “Don't keep me in suspense.” But her mother only cried more. It was her stepfather who eventually took the first step.
“Samantha, we have spoken at some length to your doctor this morning.”
“Which one? I have four.”
She felt like an irritable, sassy teen-ager as she watched them with suspicion. But she just wanted them to go away and leave her alone.
But her stepfather was a man of precision. “In fact we spoke to two of them. Dr. Wong and Dr. Josephs. They were both very informative and very kind.” He looked at her with obvious pity, and his wife cast woeful eyes in his direction before she sobbed again and he went on.
“Did they say anything to bring all this hysteria on? Anything I should know?” She glanced at her mother in annoyance and then back at George.
“Yes, there is. And much as it pains us, we think it's time you knew. The doctors have simply been waiting until—until the right time. But now that we're here …” It sounded like the perfect beginning for a eulogy as he said it, and Samantha wanted to look around to see who was in the casket. He looked like an undertaker, not a sea captain, she decided and tried to fix her face politely as he went on. “Now that we're here, we feel it's time you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“The truth.” Suddenly, as he said it, a little alarm went off somewhere near Sam's heart. It was as if she knew. As if she had known all along, without knowing, as though she sensed exactly what they were going to say.
“Oh?” was all she said.
“Yes.”
“The accident… well, Sam, it was a very grave injury you sustained when you fell. Your spinal column was severely fractured in two places. It was quite a miracle that you didn't die from the shock and those ruptures, and also that there was no brain damage, which of course they're sure now there wasn't.”
“Gee, thanks. That's nice. But the rest?” Her heart pounded but her face gave nothing away.
“As you know, as for the rest, you weren't as lucky, or you wouldn't be here in that unfortunate cast.” He sighed briefly but continued. “What you don't know, however, and we feel you should, as do your doctors, I might add—it really is time. What you don't know, Samantha, is that”—he hesitated for only a fraction of a second before lowering the boom—“you are now a paraplegic.”
There was a moment's silence and she stared at him. “What exactly does that mean, George?”
“That you'll never walk again. You will retain the full use of your upper torso, your arms, shoulders, et cetera, but the real damage was done just at your waistline. One can see it perfectly on the X rays,” he explained informatively with a professional air. “From that point on there's nothing. You may have some sensation, as I suppose you already do now, but that's all. You'll have no muscle control certainly, no ability to use your legs. You will of course have to use a whee
lchair.” And then he delivered the final shock. “But of course your mother and I decided this morning that you will come to live with us.”
“No, I won't!” It was a shriek of panic, and both her mother and stepfather looked stunned.
“Of course you will, darling.” Her mother stretched out a hand and Sam shrunk from it like a wounded animal, wanting desperately to run away. Her eyes were wild as she looked at them. They had no right to tell her this. It wasn't true … it couldn't be … no one else had told her … but she knew almost before she heard it that it was in fact the truth—and what she had been hiding from almost since the moment she'd gained consciousness in Denver. It was the one thing no one ever said. Except these two people. They had come here to tell her this, as though it were their mission, and she didn't want to hear anything that they had just said.
“I don't want to, Mother.” She spoke through clenched teeth, but they refused to understand.
“But you can't take care of yourself anymore. You'll be as helpless as a baby.” Her mother painted a picture that made Sam want to die.
“I won't! I won't, dammit… I'll kill myself first!” She was shrieking.
“Samantha! How dare you say such a thing!”
“I will if I want to, dammit. I will not be confined to this life, to the life of a cripple. And I don't want to be as helpless as a baby, living in Atlanta with my parents at the age of thirty-one. How could this have happened to me, dammit… it can't have happened, I won't let it happen.”
Her mother stood helplessly by as George put on his most professional bedside manner and attempted to soothe her but she just screamed louder, and her mother's eyes looked at her husband and implored him that they should go.
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