Page 46 of The Playboy and the Widow
There was a reason Diana hated Monday mornings, she decided as she lifted the corner of Joan’s double bed and tucked the clean sheet between the mattress and the box spring. She hated changing sheets, and once a week she was reminded of the summer job in her junior year of high school. She’d been a hotel maid and had come to hate anything vaguely connected with housekeeping.
When she finished with the girls’ sheets, she was going to wash her hair, pack a picnic lunch and treat Joan and Katie to an afternoon at Seahurst beach in Burien, another South Seattle community. She might even put on a swimsuit and sunbathe. Of course, there was always the risk that someone from Greenpeace might mistake her for a beached whale and try to get her into the water, but she was willing to chance it.
Chuckling at her own wit, Diana straightened and reached for a fresh pillowcase. It was then that she heard a faint but sharp cry coming from outside, and recognized it immediately as something serious. It sounded like Katie. She tossed the pillow aside and started out of Joan’s bedroom. The last time she’d looked, both girls were in the backyard playing. Mikey Holiday had been over, as well as a couple of other neighborhood kids.
“Mom!” Joan shrieked, panic in the lone word. “Mom! Mom!”
It was the type of desperate cry that chills a mother’s blood. Diana raced down the stairs and nearly collided with her elder daughter. Joan groped for her mother’s arms, her young face as pale as the sheet Diana had just changed.
“It’s Katie... she fell out of the apple tree. Mom, she’s hurt... real bad.”
Nine
Diana walked briskly down the wide hospital corridor. Katie was at her side, being pushed in a wheelchair by the nurse who’d met her at the emergency entrance. The eight-year-old sobbed pitifully, and every cry ripped straight through Diana’s soul. She hadn’t needed a medical degree to recognize that Katie had broken her arm. What did astonish Diana was how calmly and confidently she’d responded to the emergency. Quickly she had protected Katie’s oddly twisted arm in a pillow. Then she’d sent Joan and Mikey over to his house with instructions for Shirley to contact Valley General Hospital and tell them she was on her way with Katie.
“You’ll need to fill out some paperwork,” the nurse explained when they reached the front desk.
Diana hesitated as the receptionist rose to hand her the necessary forms.
Katie sobbed again and twisted around in her chair. “Mom... don’t leave me.”
“Honey, I’ll be there as fast as I can.” It wasn’t until Katie had been wheeled out of sight and into the cubical that Diana began to shake. She gripped the pen between her fingers and started to complete the top sheet, quickly writing in Katie’s name, her own and their address.
“Could... I sit down?” Now that her hands had stopped trembling, her knees were giving her problems. The entire room started to sway, and she grabbed the edge of the counter. She was starting to fall apart, but couldn’t. At least not yet, Katie needed her.
“Oh, sure, take a seat,” the woman in the crisp white uniform answered. “There are several chairs over there.” She pointed to a small waiting area. A middle-aged couple was sitting there watching theNoon News.Somehow Diana made it to a molded plastic chair. She drew in several deep breaths and forced her attention to the questionnaire in front of her. The last time she’d been in Valley General was when Stan had been brought in.
Her stomach heaved as unexpected tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision as she relived the horror of that day. Three years had done little to erase the effects of that nightmare. Her throat constricted under the threat of overwhelming sobs, and again Diana forced her attention to the blank sheet she needed to complete.
But again the memories overwhelmed her. She’d been contacted at home and told that Stan had been in an accident. Naturally she’d been concerned, but no one had told her he was in any grave danger. She’d left the girls with Shirley and rushed to the hospital. Once she’d arrived, she’d been directed to the emergency room, given a multitude of forms to complete and told to wait. There’d been another man who’d just brought his wife in with gall bladder problems, and Diana had even joked with him in an effort to hide her nervousness. It seemed they kept her sitting there waiting for hours, and every time she inquired, the receptionist told her the doctor would be out in a few minutes. She asked if she could see Stan and was again told she’d have to wait. Finally the physician appeared, so stiff and somber. His eyes were filled with reluctance and regret as he spoke. And yet his message was only a few, simple words. He told Diana he was sorry. At first, she didn’t understand what he meant. Naturally, he was sorry that Stan had been hurt. So was she. It wasn’t until she asked how long it would be before her husband could come home and seen the pity in the doctor’s eyes that she understood. Stan would never leave the hospital, and no one had even given her the chance to say goodbye to him. Diana had been calm then, too. So calm. So serene. It wasn’t until later, much later, that the floodgates of overwhelming grief had broken, and she’d nearly drowned in her pain.
Katie’s piercing cry cut sharply into Diana’s thoughts. Her reaction was instinctive, and she leaped to her feet. The hospital staff hadn’t let her go to Stan, either.
She stepped to the receptionist’s desk. “I want to be with my daughter.”
The woman took the clipboard from Diana’s numb fingers and glanced over the incomplete form. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to finish these before the doctor can treat your daughter.”
“Please.” Her voice cracked. “I need to be with Katie.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Collins, but I really must—”
“Then give her something for the pain!” The sound of someone running came from behind her, but Diana’s senses were too dulled to register anything more than the noise.
“Diana.” Cliff joined her at the counter, his eyes wide and concerned. “What happened?”
“Katie... they won’t let me be with Katie.”
Tears streamed down her face, and Cliff couldn’t ever remember seeing anyone more deathly pale. It was then that he realized that he’d never imagined that Diana could be so unnerved. One look at her told him why he’d found it so urgent to rush here. Somehow he’d known that Diana would need him. Until a half hour ago, his day had been going rather smoothly. He’d been eating a sandwich at his desk, thinking about a case he was about to review, when his secretary had stuck her head in the door and announced that someone named Joan was crying on the phone and asking to speak to him. By the time Cliff had lifted the receiver, the eleven-year-old was almost hysterical. In between sobs, Joan had told him that Diana had taken Katie to the hospital. She’d also claimed that her mother couldn’t afford to pay the bill. Cliff had hardly been able to understand what had happened until Shirley Holiday had gotten on the line and explained that Katie had broken her arm. Cliff had thanked her for letting him know, then had sat quietly at his desk a few minutes until he’d decided what he should do. After a moment he’d dumped the rest of his lunch in the wastepaper basket, stood and reached for his suit jacket. He’d tossed a few words of explanation to his secretary and crisply walked out the door.
A broken arm, although painful, was nothing to be worried about, he’d assured himself. Kids broke their arms every day. It wasn’t that big a deal. Only this wasn’t just any little kid, this was Katie. Sweet Katie, who had tossed her arms around his neck and given him a wet kiss. Katie who would sell her soul for a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Diana’s Katie—his Katie.
He hadn’t understood why he felt the urgent need to get to the hospital, but he did. Heaven or hell wouldn’t have kept him away. It was a miracle that the state patrol wasn’t after him, Cliff realized when he pulled into the hospital parking lot. He’d driven like a crazy man.
“Mrs. Collins has to complete these forms before she can be with her daughter,” the receptionist patiently explained for the third time.
Diana’s hand grasped Cliff’s forearms, and her watery eyes implored him. “Stan... never came home.”
Cliff frowned, not understanding her meaning. He reached for the clipboard and flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. “Diana, all you need to do is sign your name here.” He gave her the pen.
