by Howard Fast
“You go to church?”
“You know I do.”
“And you meant what you said about blasphemy?”
“Absolutely. I don’t want to be worshiped. That’s bullshit, and you know it is. I’m a God-fearing Baptist, and don’t you ever forget that—and those four children you’ve scheduled for me are going to be baptized Baptists, not Episcopalian Catholics.”
“Whatever you say. And that means you’re going to marry me?”
“That way I get the boat;”
“It’s a deal,” Freddie said. “What did you think of the wedding?”
“I loved it. But you met my father. Either I get married in his church or I’m not married at all, and you’d better make it soon. I think I missed my period.”
“No. You’re kidding?” he said incredulously.
“Maybe I am, maybe not. I’ve been late before, but not when I’ve been sleeping with someone every night.”
“Hallelujah!” Freddie exclaimed, leaping back to embrace her.
“Freddie, you’ll swamp us!” She clung to the tiller as he embraced her and kissed her.
JUDITH HAD A PHOTOGRAPHY SESSION with Frank Halter, perhaps the best known of all fashion photographers, at ten o’clock in the morning. She called Obie Johnson, a cabdriver, to pick her up at nine. Judith liked to arrive early for photography sessions. She was meticulous about her work and had the reputation in the industry of being one of the easiest models to work with.
Judith did not own a car. The thought of driving in San Francisco daunted her, and she had two cabdrivers, both of them black, who were utterly devoted to her, and whom she would call a day in advance with her schedule. On this morning she wore the swimsuit she would be modeling under a sport skirt and pullover. She preferred to dress at home whenever it was possible. Simone Casis, her maid, a black woman, would come to her house from eight to twelve, dust, make the bed, and help her to dress if the costume was complicated. This morning it was a simple matter, and Simone walked to the door with her, carrying a cashmere sweater. The morning was chilly, and she was trying to convince Judith to take the sweater.
Outside, Obie Johnson, a burly black man, was standing beside his parked cab. He adored Judith and considered himself her bodyguard as well as her driver. Judith took the sweater from Simone and leaped into the cab, telling Obie, “I’m late, Obie, and Frank Halter gets snotty when I’m late.”
“Nobody gets snotty with you, Ms. Hope. Not when I’m driving.”
“Then take off.”
Obie was a better-than-good driver, but he adored Judith. He took a shortcut on Taylor, broke half a dozen traffic rules, and then swung left down Russian Hill toward the Embarcadero; and what happened was something that happens all too often in San Francisco. A truck cut him off, and for all that he stood on his brakes, he could not stop—and broadsided the truck.
FREDDIE WAS IN HIS OFFICE at Highgate when Ms. Gomez opened the door and said, “Mr. Lavette, there’s a San Francisco police inspector on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, what have I done now?”
Ms. Gomez put the call through. Freddie picked up the phone and said, “Frederick Lavette.”
“Do you know a Judith Hope? This is Inspector Morrison.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this. She’s been hurt.”
Freddie’s throat choked up. He tried to speak, but the words would not come. Then he gasped, “How bad? Is she alive? What happened?”
“They’ve taken her to Mercy Hospital. That’s all I can tell you now.”
Freddie put down the phone and left his office, telling Ms. Gomez, “I’ll probably be gone all day. Judith’s been hurt. They’ve taken her to Mercy Hospital.”
“That’s your cousin Sam’s hospital. Do you want me to call them?”
Freddie hesitated. “No, I’m going there.”
He was not a reckless driver, but now he broke all records between Highgate and San Francisco, the pain inside of him as great as if the hurt had been to him instead of Judith. He was not a person who prayed, but now he pleaded to a God he had never given much thought to, begging, “Please, please, let her be alive. I’ll care for her, I’ll be with her every minute of my life. Don’t let her die. She’s too good, too beautiful. I love her. I love her the way I’ve never been able to love another human being. Don’t take her away.”
DR. SAM LAVETTE COHEN, the son of Barbara’s first marriage, had called Highgate a few minutes after Freddie left, and now he was waiting as Freddie drove into the parking lot at Mercy Hospital, where Sam was chief of surgery. He blocked Freddie’s impulsive rush toward the entrance.
“How is she? Where is she?”
“She’s in the operating room, and she’ll be all right. She’ll live, and she has one of the best teams in the City working on her. I’d be there now, but I wasn’t on duty when she came in. So pull yourself together, Freddie. I told you she’s not critical.”
“For God’s sake, what happened?”
“She was in a car crash. She was riding in a cab. The driver was killed. Now I’m going to take you upstairs, and I want you to sit down and stay calm.”
“When can I see her?” Freddie begged.
“When she comes out of the operating room, she’ll go into intensive care. I’m going to change and join the team. I know what you’re feeling, but the only thing you can do is to stay calm and wait. I’ll try to get you to her when she comes out.”
“But what happened? How badly was she injured?”
“Later. Now, I don’t know. I only know that she’ll live.”
A FRANTIC ELOISE CALLED BARBARA and told her that according to Ms. Gomez, Judith Hope had been injured, and that she had called Mercy Hospital and tried to reach Sam, but he was not to be found, and the hospital would release no information.
“But what happened?” Barbara asked. “How was she hurt?”
“That’s it. I don’t know and I can’t find out, and according to Ms. Gomez, Freddie was terribly disturbed and took off like a gust of wind. Barbara, I’ve never seen anything like this in Freddie. Oh yes, there have been other women, but he is absolutely insane about Judith Hope. He talked with Adam and me last night. He is determined to marry her, and he wanted our agreement, which of course we gave. Adam feels that a few kids running around the place would be wonderful, and I agreed, because I can’t think of a better place for a child to grow up than Highgate. Freddie said that at first she wouldn’t even talk about children, but now that she agreed to marry him, she wants at least four kids—” Eloise had a tendency to go on and on with the telephone, and Barbara had to cut her short and promise that she would drive over to Mercy Hospital, and that she would call Eloise as soon as she found out what had happened to Judith.
Barbara called Mercy Hospital, but they would give her no information about Judith, and Sam could not be reached. She left a message for Sam that she would be at the hospital in half an hour.
It took longer than that. She was on her way out when the telephone rang. It was Philip. He told Barbara that he’d had his radio turned on, driving to the church, and he’d heard that Judith Hope had been hurt and. that she had been taken to Mercy Hospital.
“Philip, is she alive?”
“I don’t know. You know how they announce it—a breaking story and ‘keep tuned for further information.’ So I just don’t know.”
“Eloise called, but she couldn’t get any information. Freddie took off for the hospital, and he must be there by now. I’m on my way.”
“Should I meet you there?”
“If you can. You might help.”
“Yes, I’ll meet you there,” Philip said.
Philip was already at the hospital when Barbara parked her car and walked to the front entrance. There were two policemen at the entrance, and several reporters and a TV truck. The policemen were keeping the reporters out, allowing only patients, family, and doctors to enter. Barbara said that her son, Sam Coh
en, was chief of surgery, and this was a family emergency; Philip showed his credentials as a minister, and after a short argument, they were allowed to enter. The woman at the admitting desk knew Barbara and told her that she would find Dr. Cohen on the fifth floor. “I’ll call for him to meet you at the nurses’ station.”
Sam, in a green operating gown, was waiting for Barbara and Philip. He explained quickly that he had only moments to talk. He had a patient who was being prepared for surgery, and he had to be in the operating room immediately. “Judith’s going to make it,” he told them in his dry medical manner. “She has serious lacerations on her face and neck and damage to the shoulders and a hairline fracture of the skull. They did the best they could. She’ll be out of critical in a few hours, I think.”
“What does that mean—’the best they could’?” Barbara wanted to know.
“The best they could. Her face was injured.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mother, I have to go,” Sam said shortly. “Freddie’s in the waiting room on this floor.”
“Is he always like that?” Philip wondered as Sam hurried away.
“More or less. They say grandchildren and grandparents love each other because they have a common enemy. Oh, God knows, Philip! He can be very sweet when he wants to.”
They found Freddie slumped on a chair in the waiting room. He rose and embraced Barbara, his face a pattern of gloom.
“Did you see Judith?” Barbara asked.
“Briefly. Yes, I saw her. Her head is swathed in bandages.”
“Sam says she’ll be all right, that the injuries are not life threatening.”
“Yes—so the surgeons told me. They also told me that her face was badly injured. What will that do to her, Aunt Barbara? Her beauty is her life.”
“What happened to the driver?” Philip asked him.
“He’s dead. They say it was a horrible crash. If she had been sitting in the front seat, she would be dead, too.”
“Her beauty isn’t her life, Freddie,” Barbara said softly. “As much as anything, you are her life.”
Dr. Hope and Mrs. Hope came into the waiting room then. Philip went to them and assured them that their daughter would recover. Dr. Hope asked about Obie, the driver, and Mrs. Hope burst into tears and went to Freddie, who took her in his arms.
“I want to see my daughter,” Dr. Hope said firmly.
“She’s in the recovery room,” Freddie said. “I’ll take you and Mrs. Hope there. I think they’ll allow us to see her, but the anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet. She’s bandaged. She can’t speak.”
FINALLY FREDDIE LEFT THE HOSPITAL with Barbara and Philip. Barbara persuaded him to come with her to Green Street. When they reached Green Street, Barbara asked him whether he had lunch, and he replied that he couldn’t eat. He seemed to be utterly exhausted. They talked for a while, and Freddie told them of the days on the catboat. Glancing at his watch, he said with surprise that it was only three o’clock. “Today has been like forever. I’m tired,” he said apologetically.
Barbara asked Philip to take him upstairs and have him lie down in the guest room. Freddie nodded, and Philip went up the stairs with him.
There was a message from Eloise on Barbara’s answering machine, and Barbara called her at Highgate. “Is he all right?” Eloise wanted to know.
“Perfectly all right. Totally miserable and consumed with worry, but otherwise all right. And Judith escaped—miraculously, I hear. The poor dear is injured but she’ll be all right.”
“I was so afraid,” Eloise said. “If anything happened to Freddie, I couldn’t go on. My heart goes out to that poor woman and the driver, but if anything happened to Freddie, I would just want to lie down and die. Can I talk to him? It’s selfish, I know— I should be thinking of Judith—but you know how I feel about Freddie.”
“He’s exhausted. Philip took him up to the guest room, and maybe he’ll sleep for a while. Philip was good with him. I think he helped him a little.”
“Then don’t disturb him. I’ve been listening to the radio. This has started a tremendous wave of protest about the traffic laws. Cars come thundering down those hill streets as if they were racetracks.” I never realized how much Judith was loved and admired. How is Freddie? I’ve never seen him like this with any other woman.”
“Eloise, nothing happened to Freddie.”
“Will you drive him home?”
“All right,” Barbara agreed reluctantly.
“Thank you, dear—tonight?”
“Before sunset.”
“I want to hold him in my arms,” Eloise said.
“If he’s asleep, I’ll let him sleep for an hour. Then I’ll bundle him into my car and drive him down to the Valley.”
But Freddie shrugged off his mother’s sentimentality and made it plain to Barbara that he would not return to Highgate. “I’m not a child. For heaven’s sake, Aunt Barbara, I’m a middle-aged man, and the only thing that makes life worth living is lying in Mercy Hospital with her life on a thread. I’m staying here in town. If you can’t put me up, I’ll go to a hotel.”
“Freddie, of course I can put you up. But at least call her. Try to understand your mother. It’s only eight years since your brother came back from Vietnam and took his own life. Can’t you imagine what that did to her?”
“I’m well. I’m fit. Nothing happened to me.”
“Please call her.”
“All right. I’ll call her.”
“And it’s harvest time,” Barbara said gently. “Can’t you explain to Adam what you are feeling? You know what happens to him at harvest time.”
“No way. If I talk to Adam, I may say something I will regret forever. They can harvest the damn grapes without me, and anyway most of it is over. And now I’m going back to the hospital.”
Philip had listened silently to this exchange. After Freddie left, Barbara turned to Philip hopelessly. “Say something!”
“What shall I say, Barbara? Until I met you, I never actually knew what family is. I love this family. I love you. I watch Freddie and your brother Joe, and Adam and May Ling and Eloise, and now Harry and Judith and all the others whose names I still don’t have at the tip of my tongue, and of course your son, Sam, and that lovely wife of his—what is her name?”
“Mary Lou—and what has that got to do with anything?”
“You asked me to say something.”
“So I did,” Barbara said shortly.
“Well, I’m trying.”
“Oh, Philip, why do I get so snippy with you?” Barbara went to him and kissed him. “Forgive me. Go ahead.”
“All I meant was that I’m beginning to understand how it works, and I feel pity for people like myself who have been alone. When I was a little boy, I would be given a hank of wool to hold while my mother took it off my hands strand by strand and rolled it into a ball. It’s all there, but different.”
Which is that? Barbara asked herself. The Zen Buddhist or the priest? But she said nothing.
“Freddie has grown up. He must get out of that tangled ball of wool. Some of us grow up at twelve and some at forty. Leave him alone, and tell Eloise to leave him alone. This is his mountain to climb.”
“Philip, I don’t understand.”
“Try.”
“You mean her face?” Barbara whispered.
“Yes, and according to what Sam said, it was badly smashed and torn.”
“Poor Judith Poor Freddie.”
“I think you’d better call Eloise,” Philip said.
OUT OF INTENSIVE CARE, Judith was in a hospital room when Freddie returned. Still under the effect of the anesthesia, she lay with her eyes closed as evening fell. Her head was covered with bandages, except for her eyes and an area around her nostrils and mouth. Mrs. Hope sat quietly in the darkened room. Freddie bent to kiss her cheek, and then he asked in a whisper whether Judith had recovered consciousness.
“She opened her eyes. I think she saw me. Then she closed her e
yes again.”
“She said nothing?”
“Only was Obie all right. I told her he was dead. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
Freddie told her he would be back in a few minutes, and then he went out to the nurses’ station and spoke to the nurse in charge.
The nurse was a tall, stout woman, and when Freddie explained that he and Judith were to be married, she regarded him dubiously.
“When can I speak to her?” Freddie asked. “I mean, when will she understand me?”
“She’s very heavily sedated and she’ll sleep through the night. She’s a very strong woman, and all her vital signs are good. She should be able to talk tomorrow, but it will be a strain for her.”
“Can you tell me anything about her injuries?”
“You’ll have to ask her doctor,” the nurse said.
“Dr. Sam Cohen is my cousin,” he said lamely, thinking that this might penetrate her professional wall.
“Then you should ask him.”
“Is he in the hospital?”
“Not now.” She looked at a chart on the wall. “He’s scheduled to operate at nine A.M.”
He thanked her and returned to the room and told Mrs. Hope what he had learned. “It’s important that all her vital signs are good and they haven’t kept her in intensive care. That means they feel she’s out of danger.”
“Thank God,” Mrs. Hope whispered.
“She’s heavily sedated, and the nurse says she’ll sleep through the night. I’ll have a private nurse here in the morning, and there’s nothing either of us can do now.”
“I can pray for her,” Mrs. Hope said in a gentle reprimand.
“And I will. Can I drive you home?”
“I thought I might stay here the night. Dr. Hope will be here at nine to pick me up, but I thought I would stay. There were a lot of people in the corridor about an hour ago, but the nurse would not let them into the room. There were some reporters and a man—I think his name was Frank Halter. He’s a photographer, and he was very upset—” She paused to wipe away her tears.
“I don’t think they’ll let you stay all night. I’ll stay until Dr. Hope comes, and I’ll be here in the morning.”