Chapter 93: Wreckage

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Both Time Magazine and the New York Times came calling, since Paying the Bills came out in time for their yearend gift ideas and non-fiction book lists. The Times quoted me as ‘one of the leading young intellectuals of the fiscal conservative agenda’, which made me wonder just how many of them there were. There obviously weren’t very many at all if I was a leader. Time did a puffy human-interest piece, and I let my mouth run away with me. They pushed how Kennedy was still damning me as a billionaire out to savage the sick, poor, and elderly, so I hit back. A few memorable quotes included, “I earned my money. Senator Kennedy’s father earned his money.” and “Senator Kennedy’s family gave him millions. Mine gave me the back of the hand when they threw me out at sixteen.” The one that made the most news was, “The day I start using Ted Kennedy as a moral compass we’ll be throwing snowballs in hell!” That last line might have been over the top, but the man was a drunk with a zipper problem who bought his way out of more problems than I can remember. I heard about that one from a number of people, including Marilyn’s parents.

John chewed on me to watch my mouth. It wasn’t that he disagreed with me, just that I needed to be careful what I said. What I did could reflect on the company, and not all our clients and investors would agree with me. Missy chewed on me since she was a good and loyal Democrat. I promised to behave myself in the future. That promise didn’t last too long. Shortly before Christmas I was invited to speak at a meeting of the American Conservative Union in Washington, and that made some headlines, too, when I stood up at the podium and said that while I was fiscally conservative, I was not a social conservative, and if the Republican Party wanted to stay relevant in the future, they needed to keep their noses out of people’s religion and bedrooms. That made both Time and National Review.

It wasn’t all politics or business, though. Two weekends after Thanksgiving, Marilyn and I took a long weekend by ourselves down at Hougomont. Tusker and Tessa took care of the girls. Charlie and Dum-Dum stayed with the Parkers (yes, the same Parkers who he wanted me to punch in the nose or something. He and Johnny were now best friends.) We left Friday morning and flew home Monday afternoon and packed very light. Pregnancy made Marilyn very horny, and she didn’t spend much time wearing anything more than high heels and sunglasses.

Realistically, this would be our last child. We were now thirty-three years old, and we had spaced the kids out some. By the time Marilyn wanted another, it wouldn’t be possible. After thirty-five a woman’s fertility starts dropping drastically. By forty her childbearing years are over. Forget about the tabloids and their reports of women in their fifties and sixties giving birth. Those types of events are one in a million and require massive medical support to allow.

I teased my wife several times about what our son thought about all that athletic activity going on around him. She responded that I was getting old, and that the athletics were slowing down! Why, I was only able to make love twice in a row anymore, and that just had her getting warmed up! My response? Quality, not quantity! It made for a pleasant argument, and we tried to solve it many times that weekend.

Yes, we were having a boy. The ultrasound showed that the littlest Buckman was a male Buckman! That made us start picking names. I suggested Carling Parker III, as the start of a dynasty. Marilyn put the kibosh on that! Then, at Christmas in Utica, she found a book on the history of the saints from her mother, and suggested some saints’ names, like with her brothers. I rolled my eyes and took the book from her hands. After I went through the index I came up with Nicholas Cayetano.

“Nicholas Cayetano? Where did that come from?” she asked, taking back the book.

“The patron saints of prostitutes and gamblers,” I replied, keeping a straight face.

“Carl! That’s not funny!” scolded Harriet.

“No, it’s not! Now, behave!” ordered Marilyn.

I shrugged and smiled. I turned to Mark, who was sitting on the couch next to me. He was grinning back at me. “So, who was the patron saint of trailer salesman?” I asked.

He laughed while Marilyn stewed. “That would be Saint Big Bob!”

I laughed, too. “Sorry, that name is already taken.” Charlie’s middle name was Robert.

Marilyn protested, and then looked up the patron saint of salesmen, who turned out to be Saint Lucy. Unless the youngest Buckman turned out to be a drag queen, Lucy wasn’t going to cut it. We spent the next few minutes coming up with other strange patron saints (Saint Drogo, patron saint of ugly people, got a lot of commentary around the kitchen table, with everybody claiming that this brother or that brother qualified) but never came up with an answer. We tabled it for a bit longer.

We took the kids down to Hougomont again right after Christmas. That would probably be our last vacation until after the birth. In January we settled on James Ryan, though I was still making a strong push for Nicolas Cayetano.

In January we all went over to Fifth District for the winter concert, featuring Charlie in the chorus. He was as much of a soprano as any of the girls. I whispered that to my wife, earning a giggle and an elbow in the ribs. I was glad when we left, though, because the weather was closing in. It doesn’t snow all that much in Maryland, but it does snow some, and the locals simply can’t handle it. They don’t get enough snow to need the investment in plows and sanders like they do up north. When you get more than about half an inch, they start shutting down the state. We had almost an inch when we left the concert, and there was an announcement for everyone to drive carefully, because it was getting slick. Joy!

It was slick as snot out on Mount Carmel Road. It was about a five-mile drive, and I was going very slowly. We made sure the kids all were buckled in, and Marilyn grumbled about the seat belt across her expanding waistline, but she buckled up, too. We drove home slowly.

Then there was a light and the sound of crashing metal, and things got very dark.

I came to with that sickening feeling of a bright light, and a smell you don’t get outside of a hospital. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, and then I tried to sit up, but I was strapped down and could only thrash around. I settled down and tried to figure out what was happening, and somebody in white came around. “Mister Buckman! Calm down, please. Calm down!”

I lay back and nodded, and said, “Where am I? What happened? Where’s Marilyn? Where’s my children?” At least I could talk. When I woke up in Gitmo, I was so dehydrated I couldn’t speak. Now I just had a blinding headache.

“Calm down, Mister Buckman. A doctor will be in shortly,” she answered.

“What happened? Was there a car wreck? WHERE’S MY FAMILY?”

“Stay calm, Mister Buckman...”

“I need to know about my family!” I yelled.

The curtain opened, and a doctor stepped in. He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed me back down. I didn’t even realize I had levered myself up. “They’re fine, Mister Buckman!” he told me.

That calmed me some. “Where are they? What happened?”

“You were in a car wreck in the storm. Your children are fine. They just got some bumps and bruises. You can see them later.”

“Marilyn! WHAT HAPPENED TO MARILYN?” I demanded.

“Calm down, Mister Buckman. Your wife is in surgery right now, but she’s alive and should be okay. Now, you must calm down! Your family is going to be all right!”

I sagged back into the bed and my heart stopped pounding. Then I started thinking. Surgery? What was wrong? “The baby?”

The doctor’s voice caught at that, and I saw him glance at the nurse. I already knew the answer before he said anything. “I’m sorry, Mister Buckman, but there was nothing we could do.”

Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! I started crying for little James Ryan, and for Marilyn. She would never forgive me for this! I was the one driving, I was the one responsible. It was all my fault.

I lay there in the hospital bed sobbing for a few minutes, until I remembered the doctor and nurse standing there. I opened my eyes and looked at them through blurry eyes. “Where are our children?” I asked with a raspy voice.

“They’re here, in the hospital. We’re keeping them overnight. We’ll let you see them in a few minutes if you wish.”

I just nodded. They must be terrified. “What happened?”

The doctor turned halfway and raised a hand, signaling to somebody. A Maryland State Trooper came closer. “Trooper Margolies can go over that with you.”

“Mister Buckman, I’m sorry to meet you this way. Can I ask you some questions?”

The trooper was a short and swarthy man with dense curly hair, who looked like he had a Mediterranean heritage. “Yeah, sure. What happened?” I wiped my face. I must have looked like hell.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Do you remember what happened?” he replied.

I shook my head, which damn near killed me. I called out to the nurse, “Hey, can I get some morphine or something? My head is killing me!”

She came over and shook her head. “Maybe later, but you’ve had a concussion. We can’t chance it right now. Maybe later.”

“Shit!” I muttered. I looked back at the trooper, moving my head slowly. “Sorry, but no. I just don’t remember anything. I saw a bright light, and then things went blank. What happened?”

He shrugged. “You got t-boned near Fifth District Elementary. You were going home, correct?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “It happened about a mile west of the school, going towards your home. We talked to the other driver. He reported that as he approached the intersection, he lost control. For what it’s worth, there was a lot of black ice on the roads. There have been a lot of accidents.”

“So, he hit us? Where? Marilyn’s side?”

“Marilyn is your wife?” he asked, referring to a notebook.

“Yeah.”

“Yes, sir. He impacted your car on the right front quarter panel. That pushed you across the road and down over an embankment. Your car rolled over a couple of times and landed on the roof.”

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed quietly. Back on the first go, I had been in fender-benders, but never in something serious. How the hell had we lived?

“The first people to get there were some other parents behind you. They had a cell phone and were able to call it in. I got there about five minutes later, and we got an ambulance right after that. The sliding door had popped open and blown off, but all your kids were still in their car seats, hanging upside down. All of you were.”

“Jesus! Where are we?” I asked.

“Carroll Hospital, in Westminster. It was the nearest emergency unit.”

“I want to see my kids.” I looked around slowly, focusing on the nurse. “Hey, I’d like to see my kids now.” I turned back to the cop. “What happened to the other driver?”

He shrugged. “He’s somewhere else. He busted an arm and cut his face up. I’m not telling you his name, not now.” He stopped as the nurse rolled a wheelchair up. “Mister Buckman, I don’t want you looking for the driver. It was an accident, nothing more. You weren’t responsible. He wasn’t responsible. The weather was lousy. He wasn’t driving fast or crazy. He wasn’t drunk. It was just an accident.”

“Yeah,” I replied, tiredly.

It was about four in the morning. The nurse handed me a hospital robe; I was wearing the outfit that had my ass hanging in the breeze. I had no idea where my clothes were. The trooper helped the nurse put me in the wheelchair, and then said he would finish with his paperwork. The wheelchair had an IV rack attached, and the IV bag connected to me was hung from the rack. I was wheeled out of the room and down a hallway. A few minutes later I was in a room with my children. They managed to cram in a third bed into the two-bed room. My daughters were sleeping, my son was crying.

His head whipped around when he saw me. “Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy, how you doing?” Charlie looked scared and banged up, but otherwise okay. He had some bruises on his face, and a couple of Band-Aids over his right eye, but otherwise seemed fine. As soon as the wheelchair stopped, I stood up and reached out and took his hand.

“Daddy! There was an accident. Where’s Mommy?” He grabbed onto me and hugged me.

I simply rubbed his back and hugged him. The nurse moved my IV bag to a rolling rack.

I turned back to my son. “It’s okay. Mommy’s getting taken care of by the doctors. I’m going to stay with you guys for a while, okay.”

“Yeah!”

“So just quiet down a bit and lay back. Don’t wake your sisters. I’ll stay with you.”

Charlie lay back on his bed, and I held his hand until he fell asleep. I stayed with him until the morning. Around eight in the morning a doctor came around. Charlie and the girls were still asleep, so I stepped outside of the room, dragging my IV rack. A nurse had swapped it out earlier, so with the constant hydration I was pissing like a racehorse. I was looking forward to losing the damn thing.

“When can I see my wife?” I asked.

“Mister Buckman, your wife is in recovery now. She’s resting and will be able to see you in a bit.”

“How is she? What happened?” I asked.

“You know she lost the baby?” I nodded. He continued, “The impact was just to the front of her position. The worst part was that the seat belt compressed on her abdomen while she was hanging there in the seat upside down. It was just too much. Mrs. Buckman broke her right ulna.” He used his left hand to point to a place on his lower right arm. “There were some internal injuries, so that’s why we had to do surgery. That, and to remove the...”

I held up my hand. “Yes, my son.” Not just a dead fetus.

He shrugged and nodded. “Yes, your son. Your children were better off. Your daughters got a few bruises, but they were practically cocooned in those car seats of theirs. You really got some good ones. Your son...” He looked at me for a second, and then said, “Your older son, Charles, was a little more banged up. He got some bruises, and a few cuts over his right eye, and he has a greenstick fracture on his left radius. He won’t need a cast but will have to keep it wrapped for a couple of weeks. Otherwise, your children will be fine.”

“When can I see Marilyn? Does she know about the baby yet?”

“She’s been unconscious.”

“I need to be there.”

He glanced back at the room where the children were sleeping. “Is there anybody who can come and stay with the children? Can you call some family?”

If only! “I have no family, Doctor, and Marilyn’s is in New York. Do you have a phone? I can call some friends.”

He directed me to a telephone, and I called the Tusks. Tessa answered it, and promised they would come over, but it might be a few hours. They had to get a babysitter, and then come out. The storm was over, but nobody was quite sure how the roads were. I just reiterated that I needed somebody to sit with the kids while I sat with Marilyn. She promised to be there as fast as possible. Then I called the security company. They would get some people over here as well.

I heard my daughters fussing, so I went back into the room. Charlie was still out, so I sat with the girls, who were very scared and crying. The kids had been awake all through the crash and the rescue and were terrified. I had slammed my head into the driver side window, which had knocked me out and given me a concussion, and Marilyn had been out as well. I couldn’t imagine the kids hanging there upside down while their parents were lifeless around them. I just sat there on the bed and held them while they cried and whimpered. Charlie eventually woke up, but once he saw me with his sisters, he calmed down and smiled.

I wanted to get up and go see my wife, but the girls would act up whenever I tried to move. I was rescued about an hour later when Tessa showed up, along with the security team. “I got here as fast as I could! The roads are fine today. Tusker was waiting until the neighbors showed up to watch the boys, and then is going out to the house to bring some clothes out here.”

“Oh, jeez, I never even thought of that!” I replied.

One of the security guys said, “We can handle that, Mr. Buckman.”

I looked over at him and nodded. “Okay, either one of you guys go over to the house or call your office and send somebody over. Please?”

“Yes, sir, we’ll handle it.” He stepped out of the room and pulled out a cell phone.

Tessa turned back to me. “How are you? What happened? Where’s Marilyn?”

I took a deep breath. Where to start? “We got hit by another car last night, on Mount Carmel Road, and got rolled into the ditch. The kids are banged up, but okay.” Tessa came over and sat on Holly’s bed, and the little girl instinctively wrapped her arms around her. The kids didn’t have any IVs, so I lifted Molly up and set her next to Tessa.

Tessa hugged the girls and looked across the room at Charlie. “How you doing, Charlie?”

“Okay, Aunt Tessa. Where’s Mommy?”

“Your dad’s going to check on that. You can come over here, too, if you want.”

He clambered down off his bed and climbed up next to Tessa. She looked at me and asked quietly, “Marilyn?”

“She’s alive. She got the worst of it and was in surgery. I haven’t been able to leave the kids to go see her.” I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “She lost the baby.”

“Oh, shit!”

Molly looked up at that and said, “That’s a bad word. Mommy yells at Daddy when he says that.”

Tessa smiled at the girls. “Well, I’m very sorry.” She was crying, but looked at me and said, “Go! Go find her and stay with her. I’ll watch these guys.”

A rather officious nurse came around when I stepped up to the counter in the hallway. “Is she a relative?”

“Yes, an aunt. The kids’ uncle will be along later. Can I go see my wife now? And when can I get this IV out?”

“The doctor has to say when that can be removed. You can’t see your wife yet, she’s not out of recovery,” she told me. Her tone was one where the patients and their families were the major annoyance in her life. She wasn’t a nurse so much as a bureaucrat.

I started seeing red and fought to keep my temper under control. “Nurse, get that doctor and get him here now, or get yourself a lawyer. You have ten minutes!”

“You can’t speak to me that way! Now, you get back to your room before I call Security!”

“Then you call them right now. The clock is ticking. I want a doctor and I want to see my wife. Now!” I just stood there and waited.

Well, damn if she didn’t call Security! A beefy rent-a-cop showed up, listened to the nurse for a second, and then grabbed the telephone. He called for a more senior nurse, who showed up quickly and called for the doctor. The rent-a-cop and the first nurse traded dirty looks, and he took off.

The doctor showed up about ten minutes later, took one look at my chart, and ordered the IV yanked. This doctor and the nurse got my polite thanks. He then scrounged up a pair of slippers (I had been wandering around barefoot up to this point!) and pointed me in the direction of the elevators. The senior nurse took me up a floor and down a hallway to where Marilyn was.

Marilyn was awake, and looked awful, but she was able to look at me. As soon as I saw her, I knew she knew she had lost our child. She just started crying; it looked like she had already been crying. I went over to her and simply held her hand. I couldn’t sit on the bed without disturbing her, and she had all sorts of lines going into her. I cried, too.

“The kids?” she asked.

“They’re fine. Tessa’s with them right now. They just got some bumps and bruises. They’ll be fine. Once I woke up, I spent the night with them. They wouldn’t let me see you until now.”

“Oh, Carl, I lost the baby!” she wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“I know, I know. It’s not your fault. I was driving. It was all my fault. I’m so sorry!” I got as close to her as I could and leaned down and hugged her as best I could. Marilyn’s body was just wracked with sobs, and I cried with her.