The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,29

but the young woman insisted she was fine, and told Liz she was sorry about her husband. Liz was in far worse shape than she was.

“Are you sure you don't want to go to a doctor?” Liz asked her again, but the young woman smiled, grateful that nothing worse had happened.

“I'm fine. The worst I'll get is a bruise. We were both lucky … or at least, I was.” They sat there together for a little while, exchanged names and telephone numbers, and a few minutes later the young woman got up and went on her way, and Liz went home, still shaking. She called Victoria from her car and told her what had happened, since personal injury had been her specialty. Victoria whistled through her teeth when Liz told her.

“If she's as nice as you say, which I doubt, from experience, you were goddamn lucky. You'd better give up driving for a while, Liz, before you kill somebody.”

“I've been okay … it was just today. … I went out to the cemetery … it's Valentine's Day. …” She started to sob and couldn't say more.

“I know. I'm so sorry. I know how hard this is.” But she didn't. No one could possibly know, Liz knew now, unless they'd been through it. She realized that all the times she had told people who had lost someone how sorry she was, she hadn't been able to dream, for a single instant, of what it meant to them, or what it felt like.

She told the children about the accident that night, and they looked frightened, they were clearly worried about her. But when she called the young woman to see how she was, she still insisted she was fine, and she sent Liz flowers the next morning at the office, which stunned her. The card read “Don't worry, we're both going to be okay.” Liz called Victoria as soon as she got them.

“You must have hit an angel,” Victoria said in disbelief. “All of my clients would have sued you for emotional distress, brain damage, spinal injuries, and I'd have collected ten million dollars for them.”

“Thank God you retired.” Liz laughed for the first time since it had happened. There was nothing to laugh about these days.

“You're damn right. And damn lucky. Now are you going to stay off the road for a while?” She was genuinely worried about her.

“I can't. I've got too much to do.”

“Well, you'd better be careful. Take this as a warning.”

“I will.”

She was exceptionally cautious after that, but it sobered her a little, and made her realize how distraught and out of touch she was. And for the next month, she made a bigger effort to cheer up for the children. She took them to the movies on weekends, went bowling with them, encouraged them to invite their friends for dinner and the night. And by St. Patrick's Day, another of Jack's favorite holidays, they weren't in great spirits, but they were better. It was nearly three months, and the children at least seemed to be happier, even Jamie. There was laughter at the dinner table again, they played their music as loud as they ever had, and although their faces were still too serious from time to time, she knew that they had turned the corner. But her nights were still long and dark and lonely, and her days filled with stress at the office.

But on Easter weekend, she surprised them. She couldn't stand the thought of another dismal holiday, filled with memories of Jack, wandering the house in agony and trying to overcome it. She took them all skiing at Lake Tahoe, and the kids really loved it. They looked relieved to see her back out in the world with them, skiing with them, and laughing as she raced Megan down the bunny slope, or collided with Jamie. They all loved it. It had been just what they needed.

And on the drive home, they talked about the summer.

“That's months away, Mom,” Annie complained. She had a crush on a boy close to home, and didn't even want to think about going away that summer. Peter already had a summer job lined up, at a nearby veterinary hospital, which wasn't a career path for him, but at least it would keep him busy. And all she had to do was organize the three girls and Jamie.

“I can only get away for a week this year, I've got too much to do now that I'm working alone.