He fell asleep, but after a moment, he opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. “It was stupid of me. I didn’t want this to happen.”
She stood up and bent over him. “What was stupid, Freddie?” He didn’t answer, so she whispered, “Freddie? Can you hear me?”
Panic shot through her veins, and she glanced up, wondering if she should call for the nurse.
The nurse yanked the curtain aside just then. “He needs to rest now,” she said. “Come with me, please.”
“Can’t I stay?” Lillian asked.
“No, he’s not stable, and the doctor needs to come in. You can wait outside. We’ll let you know when the helicopter arrives.”
Lillian stood. “Can I go with him in the helicopter?”
“No, that’s not possible. You’ll have to get to Turin on your own. Do you have someone to drive you there? If not, there’s a train. It leaves often.”
Surely Anton would allow Francesco to drive her. Or he would drive her himself.
“Come with me, please,” the nurse said, growing impatient.
Lillian had no choice but to return to the waiting area.
Anton stood up when she walked in. “How is he?”
She sat down and explained Freddie’s condition. “A helicopter is on its way to take him to a trauma center in Turin. Do you know where that is? I need to get there somehow. Can Francesco drive me?”
“Of course,” Anton replied.
She wiped a tear from her cheek and fought to maintain her composure. “This is all my fault.”
“No,” he said, “it was an accident. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.” He tried to rub her back, but she pushed his arm away.
“Please don’t, Anton. I just need to think of Freddie right now.” Needing to put some distance between them, she stood up and looked around. “I could use some coffee.”
“I’ll get it for you.” He left, and she sat down again.
While he was gone, she sat in a numb stupor. A siren wailed somewhere outside. A janitor dipped a mop into a bucket on wheels, then made his way down the wide hallway, swirling the mop in a series of figure eights, back and forth, cleaning the floor.
A short while later, Anton returned and handed Lillian a cup of coffee. She sipped it slowly until the nurse came in and asked for her insurance information. She dug into her purse, withdrew her wallet, and handed the nurse a card with a US telephone number to call. Thenshe followed the nurse to a phone that she could use to call Freddie’s parents and her mother.
The hospital had a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. Nothing seemed quite real. She felt adrift and displaced as she relayed the news to the family.
Later, when she returned to the waiting area, time seemed to crawl, sluggish like a worm.
Before long, the distant din of a helicopter engine in the sky woke her from her trance. She stood when it landed, its blades beating against the air.
Lillian turned and met Anton’s troubled gaze. “I need to follow it to Turin.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ll tell Francesco. We’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
“Thank you.”
He walked out, and she felt as if all the air had been extracted from the room.
Lillian waited until Freddie was evacuated to the air ambulance, and then she exited the hospital through the main entrance, where the black Mercedes was waiting at the curb. Francesco sat behind the wheel. Anton got out of the passenger seat and held the door open for her.
“I’d prefer to ride in the back, if it’s all the same to you,” she said. “I think I’m in shock. I need to lie down and rest.”
He helped her into the back, and they drove five hours to Turin in somber silence.
