the Promise (1978)

by Steel, Danielle

  Of course not, if that's what you want.

  It is.

  There was the dull clank of the ambulance door closing, and the last of the blue blankets swathing the girl disappeared with the two nurses' backs. The nurses would be with her for the first six or eight months in San Francisco. After that, Gregson had said, she wouldn't need them. But for those six or eight months, she would spend much of her time with her eyes bandaged, as he worked on her lids and her nose, her brow and her cheekbones. He had a whole face to reconstruct. There would be other expenses involved, too. Nancy would need almost constant care by a psychiatrist as she underwent the emotional shock of becoming a new person. There was no way Gregson could give her back the self she had been. He had to create a whole new woman. And Marion liked that idea just fine: the girl would be that much more removed from Michael. It took away the possibility of an accident, a chance meeting in an airport five years later. Marion didn't want that to happen. Her mind ran over the list of arrangements she had made with Gregson on the phone at four o'clock that morning, one o'clock San Francisco time. He had sounded bright and alive and dynamic, a man in his forties with an extraordinary international reputation in his field. She was a damn lucky girl. He said he'd have his secretary work it all out. The apartment, the clothes. They had quickly run over the cost of eighteen months of surgery, and the additional expense of psychiatric help, constant nurses for a while, and even general support. They had settled on four hundred thousand dollars as a reasonable figure. Marion would call the bank at nine and have it transferred to Gregson's account on the coast. It would be there when his own bank opened at nine. Not that he was worried. He knew who Marion Hillyard was. Who didn't?

  Why don't you come inside and have some breakfast, Marion? Wickfield was losing hope of having any influence on her at all, and Calloway had said that he couldn't leave New York until that morning. Wickfield didn't know that Marion had told him not to. She had wanted to be alone to work out her business arrangements. And everything had worked out just perfectly. Marion?

  Hm?

  Breakfast?

  Later, Wicky. Later. I want to see Michael.

  I'll go up and take a look at him now.

  Marion stopped in the ladies' room for a moment, while Wickfield went ahead to see Michael. But he didn't expect any immediate change; he had checked him only an hour before.

  But there was a strange stillness when Marion came into the room five minutes later. Wicky was standing back from the bed with a look of solemnity, and the nurse had left the room. The New England sun was streaming across the bed, and from somewhere there was the steady sound of water dripping into a sink. Everything was much too still, and suddenly her heart flew to her mouth. It was like when Frederick ' oh God' her hand went unwillingly to her heart and she stood frozen in the doorway looking from Wicky to the bed. And then she saw him, and her eyes filled with tears. He was smiling at her ' her boy. It wasn't like Frederick at all. A sob caught in her throat and she walked to the bed with trembling legs, and then she bent down and touched his face with her hands.

  Hi, Mom. They were the most beautiful words she had ever heard, and the tears poured down her face as she smiled.

  I love you, Michael.

  I love you, too. Even Wickfield had tears in his eyes as he watched them. The boy, so young and handsome and alive again, and the woman who had given so much in the past two days. He slipped quietly from the room, and they never heard him go.

  She held her son gently in her arms for a long moment as he ran a hand over her hair. Take it easy, Mom. Everything's okay. Christ, I'm hungry. Marion laughed. He sounded so good. He was alive again. And all hers.

  We will get you the biggest, bestest, superest breakfast you've ever seen, if Wicky says it's all right.

  To hell with Wicky. I'm starving.

  Michael! She couldn't be angry at him, though. She could only love him. But then as she looked at him, she saw his face cloud over as though he were suddenly remembering why he was there. Before that, he had acted as if he had just awakened from having his tonsils out. All he wanted was ice cream and his mom. But now there was a great deal more in his face, and he tried to sit up. He didn't know how to say the words, but he had to ask. He searched her face, and she kept her eyes on his and his hand tightly held in hers. Take it easy, darling.

  Mom ' the others ' the other night ' I remember '

  Ben has already gone back to Boston with his father. He's pretty badly banged up but he's all right. A lot more all right than you were. She said it with a sigh and tightened her grip on his hand. She knew what was coming next. But she was prepared for it.

  And ' Nancy? His face was ivory white as he said her name. Nancy, Mom? The tears already stood out in his eyes. He could see the answer in his mother's face as she sat down carefully in the chair next to him and ran a gentle hand along the outline of his face.

  She didn't make it, darling. They did all they could. But the damage was just too great. She paused for only the slightest of seconds and then went on. She died early this morning.

  Did you see her? He was still searching her face for something more.

  I sat with her for a while last night.

  Oh, God ' and I wasn't there. Oh, Nancy' He turned his head into the pillow and cried like a child as Marion held his shoulders. He said her name over and over and over again, until at last he could cry no more. And when he turned to look at his mother again, she saw something in his face that she had never seen there before. It was as though he had lost something of himself in those moments when he said Nancy's name. As though part of him had bled away and died.

  Chapter 6

  Nancy heard the landing gear grind out of the plane's belly, and for the hundredth time since the flight began she felt the touch of the hand that had touched her aim before. It was strangely comforting to feel the nurse's hand, and it pleased her that she could already tell the difference between them. One woman had thin, delicate hands with long narrow fingers; her hands were always cold but there was great strength in the way she held on to Nancy. It made Nancy feel brave again just to touch her. The other nurse had warm, chubby soft hands that made one feel safe and loved. She patted Nancy's arm a lot, and it was she who had given Nancy the two shots for the pain. She had a soft soothing voice. The first woman had a slight accent. Nancy had already come to like them both.

  It won't be much longer now, dear. We can see the bay now. We'll be there in no time at all.

  Actually, it would be another twenty minutes. And Peter Gregson was counting on that as he raced along the freeway in the black Porsche. The ambulance was meeting him there. He could have one of the girls from his office pick his car up later that morning. He wanted to ride into the city with the girl. He was intrigued by her. She had to be Someone for Marion Hillyard to be so concerned about her. Four hundred thousand dollars was quite a sum, and only three of that was going to him. The other hundred was to keep the girl comfortable in the next year and a half. And she would be. He had promised Marion Hillyard that. But he would have seen to that anyway. It was part of what he did. He would get to know the girl's very soul. They would become more than friends; he would mean everything to her and she to him. It had to be that way, because by the time that new face was born, she would be the person she looked like. Peter Gregson was going to give birth to Nancy McAllister, after a pregnancy of eighteen long months. She was going to have to be a very brave girl. But she would be. He would see to that. They would face it together. The very idea excited him. He loved what he did, and in an odd way he already loved Nancy. What he would make of her. What she would be. He would give her all that he had to give.

  He looked at his watch and stepped on the gas. The car was one of his favorite releases. He also flew his own plane, went scuba diving whenever he had time, skied, and had climbed several mountains in Europe. He was a man who liked to scale heights, in every possible way. To defy the impossible and win. It was why he loved his work. People accused him
of playing God. But it wasn't really that. It was the thrill of insuperable odds that stimulated him. And he had never yet been defeated. Not by women or mountains or sky, not even by a patient. At forty-seven he had won at everything he touched, and he was going to win now. He and Nancy were going to win together. His dark hair blew softly in the breeze and his eyes almost crackled with life. He still had a tan from his recent week in Tahiti, and he was wearing gray slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that was just the color of his eyes. He was always impeccably dressed, perfectly put together. He was an exceptionally good-looking man, but there was more to him than that. It was his vitality, his electricity, that caught one's attention even more than his looks did.

  He pulled up to the curb at the airport precisely at the moment Nancy's plane was touching down. He showed a special pass to a policeman, who nodded and promised to keep an eye on the car. Even the policeman smiled at Gregson. Peter was a man no one could ignore. He had an almost irresistible charm, and a strength that showed through everything he did. It made people want to be near him.

  He wove his way expertly into the airport lobby and spoke rapidly to a ground supervisor. The man picked up a phone, and within moments Peter was ushered through a door, down a flight of stairs, and into a tiny airport vehicle, then rushed out to the run-way, where he saw the ambulance standing by, the attendants waiting for the patient to be taken off the plane. He thanked his driver and hurried to the ambulance, where he quickly checked inside to see that his orders had been carried out. They had been, to the letter. Everything was there that he needed. It was hard to tell what kind of shape she might be in after the flight, but he had wanted her in San Francisco immediately, so he could keep a close eye on things. He had a lot of planning to do, and work would begin in just a few days.

  The other passengers were held back a few more minutes while Nancy was carried out through the forward hatch. The stewardesses hung back, looking grave, averting their gazes from the bottles and transfusions that hung over the bandaged girl, but the nurses seemed to be speaking to her as she was carried out. He liked the look of the nurses, young but competent, and they seemed to work well as a team. That was what he wanted. They were all going to be part of a team for the next year and a half, and everyone was important. There was no room for reluctance or incompetence. Everyone had to be the very best they could be, including Nancy. But he would see to that. She was going to be the star of this show. He watched her being carried toward him and waited until the stretcher had been gently set down inside the ambulance. He smiled at the nurses but said nothing, and held up a hand gesturing them to wait as he eased in beside Nancy and sat down on a seat next to her. He reached for her hand and held it.

  Hello, Nancy. I'm Peter. How was the trip? As though she were for real. As though she were still someone, not just a faceless blob. She could feel relief wash over her at the sound of his voice.

  It was okay. You're Dr. Gregson? She sounded tired but interested.

  Yes. But Peter sounds a little less formal between two people who're going to be working together. She liked the way he said it, and if she could have, she would have smiled.

  You came out to meet me?

  Wouldn't you have come out to meet me?

  Yes. She wanted to nod, but she couldn't. Thank you.

  I'm glad I did. Have you ever been to San Francisco before, Nancy?

  No.

  You're going to love it. And we're going to find you an apartment you like so much you'll never want to leave here. Most people don't, you know. Once they dig in their heels, they want to stay here forever. I came out here from Chicago about fifteen years ago, and you couldn't get me back there on a bet. She laughed at the way he said it, and he smiled down at her. Are you from Boston? He was treating her as though they had been introduced by friends. But he wanted her to relax after the long flight. And a few minutes without movement would do her good. The nurses were also glad of the opportunity to stretch as they chatted with the two ambulance attendants. Now and then they glanced in to see Dr. Gregson still talking to Nancy, and they liked him already. He exuded warmth.

  No, I was from New Hampshire. That's where I grew up anyway. In an orphanage. I moved to Boston when I was eighteen.

  It sounds very romantic. Or was the orphanage straight out of Dickens? He gave everything a light touch, a happy note. Nancy laughed at the question about Dickens.

  Hardly. The nuns were wonderful. So much so that I wanted to be one.

  Oh, God. Now listen, you And she laughed at the tone of his voice. When we're through with our project, young lady, you're going to be ready for Hollywood. If you go hide in a convent somewhere I'll ' I'll ' why, I'll head off the bridge, damn it. You'd better promise me you won't go off and become a nun somewhere. That was easy. She had Michael to get ready for. Her dreams of being Sister Agnes Marie had faded years ago, but die wanted to tease Gregson a little. She already liked him.

  Oh, all right. She said it begrudgingly but with laughter in her voice.

  Is that a promise? Come on, say it ' I promise. I promise.

  What do you promise? They were both laughing now.

  I promise not to be a nun.

  Whew. That's better. He signaled to the two nurses to join them, and the attendants moved toward the front. She was ready to go now, and he didn't want to tire her with too much patter. Why don't you introduce me to your friends.

  Well, let's see, the cold hands are Lily, and the warm ones are Gretchen. All four of them laughed.

  Thanks a lot, Nancy. Lily laughed benevolently as Nancy smiled to herself. She felt safe with her new-found friends, and all she could think of now was what she would look like for Michael after it was all over. She liked Peter Gregson, and suddenly she knew that he was going to make her someone very special, because he cared.

  Welcome to San Francisco, little one. Lily's cool hands ware replaced by his strong, graceful ones, and he kept a light hand on her shoulder all the way into the city. In an odd way, he made her feel as though she had come home.

  Chapter 7

  The ambulance doors swung open and they carried the stretcher expertly into the hotel. The manager was waiting to greet them, and the entire penthouse suite had been reserved for their use. They were only planning to stay for a day or two, but the hotel would provide a breather between hospital and home. Marion had business meetings in Boston, and besides, for some reason Michael had insisted on a few days in a hotel before going home. And his mother was ready to indulge his every whim.

  The ambulance attendants set him down carefully on the bed, and he made a face. For Chrissake, there's nothing wrong with me, Mother. They all said I was fine.

  But there's no need to push.

  Push? He looked around the suite and groaned as she tipped the ambulance attendants, who promptly vanished. The room was filled with flowers, and there was a huge basket of fruit on the table near the bed. His mother owned the hotel. She had bought it years before as an investment.

  Now relax, darling. Don't get overexcited. Do you want anything to eat? She had wanted to keep the nurse, but even the doctor had said that was unnecessary, and it would have driven Michael crazy. All he had to do now was take it easy for another couple of weeks, and then he could go to work. But he had something else to do first. How about some lunch? Marion asked.

  Sure. Escargots. Oysters Rockefeller. Champagne. Turtles' eggs and caviar. He sat up in bed like a mischievous child.

  What a revolting combination, my love. But she wasn't really listening to him. She was looking at her watch. But do order yourself something. George should be here any minute. Our meeting downtown is at one. She walked out of the room distractedly, to look for her briefcase, and Mike heard the doorbell at the front of the suite. A moment later, George Calloway walked into his room.

  Well, Michael, how are you feeling?

  After two weeks in the hospital, doing absolutely nothing, I feel mostly embarrassed. He tried to make light of his situation, but there
was still a broken look around his eyes. His mother saw it too, but put it down to fatigue. She had closed any alternative explanation from her mind, and she and Michael never discussed it. They talked about the business, and the plans for the medical center in San Francisco. Never the accident.

  I stopped in at your office this morning. It looks very handsome indeed. George smiled and sat down at the foot of the bed.

  I'm sure it does. Michael watched his mother as she came into the room. She was wearing a light gray Chanel suit with a soft blue silk blouse, pearl earrings, and three strands of pearls around her neck. Mother has excellent taste.

  Yes, she does. George smiled at her warmly, but she waved nervously at them both.

  Stop throwing roses; we're going to be late. George, do you have the papers we need?

  Of course.

  Then let's go. She walked quickly toward Michael's bed and bent down to kiss the top of his head. Rest, darling. And don't forget to order lunch.

  Yes, ma'am. Good luck at the meeting.

  She raised her head and smiled with pure anticipation. Luck has nothing to do with it. The two men laughed, and Michael watched them go. And then he sat up.

  He sat patiently and quietly, waiting and thinking. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He had planned it for two weeks. He had lived for this moment. It had been all he could think of. It was why he had suggested the hotel, insisted on it in fact, and urged her to attend the meetings herself for the new Boston library building. He needed the afternoon to himself. He just didn't want to spoil anything by having them catch him. He wanted to be sure they were gone. So he sat exactly where he was for exactly half an hour. And then he was sure. He had rehearsed it a hundred times in his head. He went quickly to the suitcase on the rack at the foot of his bed and took out what he needed. Gray slacks, blue shirt, loafers, socks, underwear. It seemed a thousand years since he had worn clothes, and he was surprised at how wobbly he felt as he got dressed. He had to sit down three or four times to catch his breath. It was ridiculous to feel that weak, and he wouldn't give in to it. He wasn't going to wait another day. He was going there now. It took him nearly half an hour to dress and comb his hair, and then he called the desk and asked for a cab. He was pale on his way down in the elevator, but the excitement of his plan made him feel better. Just the thought of it gave him life again, as nothing had done in two weeks. The cab was waiting for him at the curb.