Silent Night

by Danielle Steel

  Whitney had a meeting with a hospital neurologist and Bailey to decide how to manage Emma’s care at home, and when to make the move. They agreed that the following weekend would be as good a time as any, and for the rest of the week, Whitney lay awake next to Emma every night in her room near the ICU, panicked about how it would go.

  Eileen, the older, more experienced nurse, was going to start them off. She had agreed to work four days a week as a live-in. She said she didn’t mind twenty-four-hour duty. And Whitney would be there to help at night. Brett, the younger nurse, would work for three days a week, starting on Friday mornings, and through the weekend. She already had plans about where she was going to take Emma during her days with her, the park, the zoo. They were going to do art projects. And Whitney had bought a new station wagon so the nurses could drive her places if Emma was comfortable going with them and didn’t act out in public, which remained to be seen. So far, she hadn’t ventured past the safe confines of the ICU, and Whitney didn’t want them taking Emma anywhere without her at first, until she saw how they interacted with her, and how Emma responded to them. She still had flare-ups of violent behavior whenever she was frustrated.

  Whitney had consulted with Bailey about photographs she had of Paige around the house. She didn’t want to upset Emma, but they also agreed that it might be helpful to jog her memory, and see how she reacted to the images of her mother. At some point, Whitney still had to tackle the terrible news of Paige’s death, whenever Emma was ready for it. Bailey thought it was a good idea to leave the photographs in place. Emma’s new bedroom at her aunt’s house was filled with familiar things, which might jog her memory as well. Whitney wanted her to feel at home, and had filled her bedroom with her favorite things.

  Eileen, the older nurse, met them at the hospital the morning they were to leave. Emma could sense that something was happening, but Whitney couldn’t explain it to her, or reassure her. She got her dressed in a pair of pink leggings she’d brought from home and a pink sweater, and Emma stared at them as though they reminded her of something, but she wasn’t sure what, and then she let Whitney put them on her as Eileen watched and smiled encouragement. Three of the ICU nurses came and went as Whitney put Emma’s long blond hair in braids. She’d been wearing hospital pajamas and nightgowns for the past two and a half months, and now she was ready to go home. Whitney’s hands were shaking as she did her hair. They packed up all her stuffed animals and cozy blankets from home, with the cards the cast of the show and some of the fans had sent her. There was more than Whitney had realized, and Eileen helped her carry it downstairs to the car. Then they went back upstairs to get Emma. Whitney tried to get her into a wheelchair, and Emma bolted across the room and hid behind the bed, looking terrified. She had no idea where she was going, or why. Whitney was never sure if Emma recognized her from before, but she was a familiar figure now, since she slept in Emma’s room every night.

  Whitney spoke to her soothingly, which she couldn’t hear, stroking her face and her hair, which she understood, and Whitney put her arms around her to hold her and could feel Emma shaking in terror. The hospital was the only home she remembered now. Everything before that had disappeared from her mind the night of the accident, and when Whitney tried to get her in the wheelchair again, Emma hauled off and slapped her in the face hard, as Whitney tried not to react. She glanced up at the nurses, who suggested that maybe they should let Emma walk downstairs if she was willing. She was wearing little pink ballet shoes with sparkling hearts on them, and she was carrying the teddy bear she slept with and clutching it to her chest, as Whitney took her other hand and walked her out of the room she had slept and spent her days in since she had come out of the coma. They walked past the nurses’ desk, as all the nurses on duty waved, and tears filled Emma’s eyes as she looked at Whitney and spoke rapidly in the non-language that was familiar to them now, although they understood none of the words. She sounded like a Martian.

  “We’re going home,” Whitney said gently even though Emma couldn’t hear her. She said it over and over as they continued walking to the elevator, and Whitney pointed to the button so she could push it, but she wouldn’t, as the security guard watched them. He was still there to protect Emma from fans, although the crowds in the lobby had thinned since the announcement had been made that Emma had left the show in order to speed her recovery.

  Emma hesitated for a long time before she got into the elevator holding tightly to Whitney’s hand. She acted as though she’d never seen one. She gave a start when the doors closed, and a moment later, they were at the level of the emergency entrance where Whitney had left the car with Emma’s belongings in it. She recognized them in the back of the car, and turned to Whitney with a look of panic, and then shrank back against the hospital wall, looking like she was about to bolt and run. It was easy to guess that seeing the car was bringing back some subliminal memory of the accident, and she was pulling Whitney away from the car with all her strength.

  Whitney put her arms around her to comfort her and tried edging her toward the station wagon as Emma hid her face and pummeled her as hard as she could and started screaming so people in the parking area were looking at them, wondering what was going on.

  “Would you like me to put her in the car, ma’am?” the security guard offered and could have done it easily. Whitney shook her head. She didn’t want anything to happen to Emma by force.

  “I’d rather she get in on her own,” Whitney said and handed the car keys to Eileen, who seemed patient as she waited for Whitney to handle the situation. “I’ll sit in the back with her,” Whitney said to Eileen as Emma continued to fight her and swung at her face again, but this time Whitney saw it coming and dodged. They stood there together for nearly an hour, as Whitney tried to inch Emma toward the car, and finally she gently pulled her in with her, sat her down on the seat and buckled the seatbelt, as Emma screamed at the top of her lungs. The security guard closed the door, and Whitney held her close as Emma continued to scream. Eileen pulled out, and they drove home with Emma shrieking and swinging wildly at her aunt. She looked like they were trying to kidnap her, and Whitney was unnerved as they pulled into her driveway in Beverly Hills, and Eileen turned off the engine. For a minute, Emma stopped screaming and glanced around. Whitney could tell that something about the house was familiar to her, but she wasn’t sure what. Emma stared at Whitney with a puzzled expression, her face still red from crying. Whitney gently unbuckled the seatbelt, and Eileen opened the door to let her out. Her first car ride since the accident had been traumatic for all of them, but they had made it home in one piece. Eileen helped her out, and Whitney got out right behind her, walked to the front door, unlocked it, and turned off the alarm. Emma still looked confused, as though something about her surroundings had struck a chord of memory but she had no idea why. Whitney took her hand and led Emma into the house, where she looked around the living room she had seen dozens of times before, and had even spent Christmas in several times. She walked from room to room, checking things out, looking at photographs, picking things up and putting them down. She walked into the kitchen and stopped there for a minute, and then Whitney beckoned her to come upstairs, and they walked to the bedroom she had set up for her, next to her own. Emma looked around and smiled, and Whitney could tell she had recognized her belongings, she stared at the posters on the wall, touched the dolls and stuffed animals, and rubbed her face in the cozy bedspread and lay on the bed, gazing at her aunt.

  “Welcome home, Em,” she said as she smiled at her, relieved to see her happy and not terrified as she had been in the car. Then Eileen went to the kitchen to make them lunch, and Whitney was pleased that she had appeared calm in the storm while leaving the hospital, which had been much more traumatic than Whitney had anticipated.

  Emma left her bedroom to check out Whitney’s room next to hers and then came back and lay on her bed until Whitney heard Eileen call them downstairs for lun
ch, and Whitney took Emma’s hand and led her downstairs. She let her aunt settle her on a chair at the kitchen table, and they ate the sandwiches Eileen had made for them, and Emma ate the potato chips thoughtfully, looking around the room, as though still trying to remember it. When she’d finished eating, she went back to the living room and looked around some more.

  She stopped in front of a photograph of her mother and stared at it for a long time, but she never looked at Whitney or seemed to question it. She picked it up and set it down and walked away, and it was obvious that she didn’t remember her mother yet or she would have reacted to it, and she didn’t. It was disappointing in terms of her memory loss but also a relief in some ways. After the agony of getting her home from the hospital, Whitney wasn’t eager to deal with another crisis quite so soon.

  Emma curled up on the couch with a cashmere blanket and drifted off to sleep after the emotions of the morning, and Eileen came to check on her, and said she’d watch her while Whitney went upstairs. She had realized that it was going to be much harder keeping track of Emma here than at the hospital. There were more rooms for her to roam around in, places to hide if she wanted to, a garden just outside the house, and a pool beyond it, which could be dangerous for her, since she probably didn’t remember how to swim either. They would have to keep careful track of her to make sure she didn’t leave the house or get lost. Whitney was thinking about it when the phone rang, it was Bailey asking how the trip home had gone.

  “It was an event,” she said, sounding exhausted. “She was terrified as soon as she saw the car. It took us an hour to get in it, and she screamed all the way home. I don’t know if she remembered the accident, or just the feeling it gave her when she saw the car.”

  “What happened when you got home?”

  “I think something about the place looks familiar to her, but she isn’t sure what. She looked at a photograph of her mother, but she didn’t react to it. She just stared at it and then walked away. But she recognized her toys in the bedroom I set up for her. She loved it.” Whitney smiled as she said it.

  “It sounds like you’re off to a good start.” He sounded pleased. These were all things that he and Whitney had discussed when planning Emma’s homecoming, and he was in favor of trying to provoke Emma’s memory with some gentle prodding and familiar objects, even the photograph of her mother. Sooner or later, it would be better for her to remember than to lose her memory forever, even if reaching back into the past would be painful for her. “How’s the nurse doing?”

  “She seems fine. She didn’t freak out when Emma was screaming on the way home. She’s competent and professional and very nice. Emma doesn’t appear to care one way or another.”

  “Where’s Emma now?” he asked gently.

  “Downstairs, asleep on the couch. We’re going to have to watch her closely. I don’t want her getting lost in the house, or letting herself out and falling into the pool.”

  “No, that would not be good,” he agreed. “Call me if you need anything.” Whitney had the sedatives they used whenever Emma got too aggressive, but she was hoping she wouldn’t need them now that they were home. She was also hoping that Emma would settle in and feel comfortable there, but she had brought her brain injury home from the hospital with her, and the problems were not solved yet by any means. In some ways, they were just beginning. This was the next phase of her recovery. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” he promised.

  When Whitney went downstairs a little while later, Emma was still asleep. She slept for most of the afternoon, after the upheaval of the morning, and Whitney had a chance to return some calls and answer emails, sitting near Emma on the couch. She smiled at her when Emma opened her eyes and looked around. She still had that puzzled expression, which suggested to Whitney that she remembered something but didn’t know what. She went back upstairs to her room then, found the bathroom and used it, and was playing with her old dolls when Whitney walked into the room to check on her. She nodded at her to reassure her, and Emma smiled her old familiar smile that made Whitney’s heart sing just looking at her. She looked better. She just couldn’t think better yet.

  They had dinner together in the kitchen with Eileen, and then Whitney bathed her in her big marble bathtub, and Emma splashed happily and chattered in her gibberish but didn’t seem to expect Whitney to respond. Then Whitney put her to bed. She had been tense for a good part of the day, fearing something would go wrong, but on the whole, she thought it had gone well. It was stressful having Emma home and being responsible for her on her own, but it also seemed more natural to be there.

  Everything was peaceful until two in the morning when Whitney heard a bloodcurdling scream and rushed into the next bedroom, and found Emma hysterical with one of her night terrors. Nothing Whitney could do would console her. She just continued to scream with her eyes wide open, until she finally wore herself out two hours later, curled up in a ball, and went to sleep, and Whitney went back to her own room, and lay awake for a long time, wondering if life would ever be normal again, and if Emma would ever recover from the accident and the injury to her brain. She had no more answers to the question now that they were at home. All she could do was wait and hope.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning on her way to breakfast in her nightgown, Emma stopped in the living room and stood in front of the framed photograph of her mother again. She picked it up and walked into the kitchen with it, and sat it in front of her plate where she could look at it intently. She made no sound and didn’t look at Whitney. She just kept looking at the photograph of Paige in a bathing suit and a big sunhat on the beach at Malibu, at a house she’d rented two years before.

  Emma ate her breakfast, sitting next to Whitney, and took the photograph with her when she left the kitchen and went back to her room. Eileen was doing the dishes to be helpful when Whitney went back upstairs to dress and checked on Emma in her bedroom. She was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the photograph, and suddenly her eyes flew wide and she looked at Whitney and pointed at the image with a desperate expression. Whitney knew instantly that she had remembered who the woman was, and now she wanted to know the answer to the question Whitney had feared for almost three months. She pointed to the photograph again and again and held it up to Whitney’s face, making grunting sounds and speaking in the language that had no meaning.

  Whitney nodded to show her she had understood.

  “I know, baby, I know…that’s your mom.” She knew that Emma couldn’t hear her, but the expression on Whitney’s face showed that she knew, as she put her arms around her and held her, wanting to give her whatever comfort she could, even without words.

  Emma pulled away from her and put the photograph back in Whitney’s face, with a frantic look that expressed what she wanted to know. She remembered Paige now and wanted to know where she was. Whitney could feel her pain viscerally. Neither of them needed words to express what they felt. Emma was beginning to make small shrieking sounds, as Whitney nodded. Emma’s grunts grew louder and more insistent, and suddenly their eyes met and Whitney shook her head, which conveyed to Emma what she couldn’t say in words. She just kept shaking her head and holding her, and then she made a gesture as though saying that Paige was asleep. And as soon as she did, Emma let out an anguished scream. She had understood Whitney’s meaning and collapsed to the floor at her feet, rocking back and forth and clutching the photograph to her as she threw her head back and cried inconsolably. Whitney sank onto the floor with her, and this time Emma let her hold her as they rocked back and forth on the floor, and after a while, Emma just lay there crying silently, too exhausted to move. They were both crying, and Whitney felt as though her sister had just died all over again. Emma lay there for a long time, and didn’t attempt to move, still holding the photograph. Whitney was still with her when Eileen came to tell her that Dr. Turner was on the phone. She asked her to have him call her cellphone, whi
ch he did a minute later. She didn’t want to leave Emma alone, not now after she had just learned that her mother had not survived the accident.

  “Good morning, how did last night go?” Bailey asked in a cheerful voice that seemed too loud in her ears, even though Emma couldn’t hear it. She was crooning softly at the photograph, and still lying on the floor.

  “Okay, I guess,” Whitney responded. “She had a night terror. And I think we had a breakthrough just now, and not an easy one,” Whitney said as she kept an eye on Emma next to her.

  “What happened?” He sounded concerned but not panicked, since Whitney sounded calm.

  “She’s been walking around with her mother’s picture all morning. She brought it to the breakfast table and set it in front of her. I don’t think she recognized it, but there must have been something familiar about it, and all of a sudden, when we got back to her room, it clicked. She started looking frantic, and kept staring at me, and I understood, and shook my head a bunch of times and showed her by resting my head on my hands that Paige was sleeping. She let out a hideous scream, and she’s been crying for the last half hour. She’s better now. She’s lying next to me at my feet, holding the photograph. I think she understands now that Paige is dead.” It was the moment Whitney had dreaded since the accident, and now Emma knew what had happened, and that Paige was never coming back.

  “That’s liable to unblock some other things. It’s a biggie. I’m relieved it happened now that you’re home. I think she was ready for it, which is why her mind let her recognize her mother. How does she seem now?”

  “Exhausted. And to be honest, so am I.”

  “I’d like to come by and observe her today for a while, if that’s all right with you. I want to see if any of her other behaviors have progressed as a result. This really is a major breakthrough for her, and we might be able to build on this in some way.” It made sense to Whitney as a clinician herself, but the moment had been agonizing and she felt drained.