Chapter 8: The Saddest Story

It was 2:30 p.m., Thursday, September 17th. I will never forget the day, the hour or the minute that the phone rang. I was in my office so I picked it up and my secretary said, "Hugh..."

Her voice broke and I knew something very bad had happened. She clicked me through and a man's voice came on. It took me a few moments to realize who it was.

"Simon, what is it? What is it?"

It's one of those times that make you believe in telepathy, or premonition. Before I could make out one word clearly, I knew who it was.

"Nicole. What's wrong, Simon? What's wrong with Nicole?"

"It's - she ... Hugh, come up here! Please!"

"What is wrong? What happened?"

"We're at NY - NY Presby ... byterian. Nicole, she's hurt ... hurt real bad. I..." then his voice broke.

A moment later another man's voice came on.

"Mr. Davidson?"

"Yes, who is this? What's happened to Nicole?"

"This is Dr. David Sloane. We're here at New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia and Cornell. Your daughter has suffered severe injuries in a traffic accident."

"How severe?"

"Really severe. She has fractures and there was substantial damage to the left side of her face, but -"

"There's more?"

"We know she's also sustained some degree of brain damage from the accident - we just don't know how bad. You should really get up here as soon as you can."

He didn't have to add anything else.

"Let me talk to Simon again."

"Dad... !"

"Just hold it together, Simon. I'm on my way - whatever she needs, money is no object. Let them know that. Tell them, money is no object!"

I was walking quickly toward Gail's office when first Percy and then Bobby intercepted me.

"How bad, Hugh?"

"Bad as bad can be - I've got to get up there."

Bobby peeled off.

"Tell Gail and I'll have her jet fueling on our runway and ready to go by the time you get there."

Percy was with me when Gail stepped out of her office.

"Something's happened to Nicole?"

"She was hurt – bad – in an accident. There's...", just for a moment I couldn't get the words out because, somehow, saying it made it more real, but I rallied, " ... brain damage, they don't know how bad. The doctor just said to get up there as soon ... as soon as..."

"Where is she?"

"New York Presbyterian..."

"Percy, use my corvette. Don't stop for any lights and, if any cops chase you, keep going. I'll call the Sheriff personally and clear the way. I want Hugh in the air in 15 minutes. Hugh, get to New York. I'll get on the phone and see what I can do."

Before I could turn she had her arms around me.

"Let them know, money is no object! Get her the best and don't take any shit from anyone. I've got your back. The Hunt Bank has your back."

Before we reached the airstrip my cell buzzed and I heard Gail say, "Bret Wallinsky is one of the best brain men in the world. He's based In London but he just happens to be lecturing at Harvard. I just got off the phone with him. He owes me a favor. He'll be at Presbyterian about the same time you get there. If there's anybody in the world who can bring Nicole back, it's him."

I tried to make my mouth form words.

"Don't say it, Hugh. You give loyalty to the people who give it to you. You heard my grandfather say that. He lived it! I'm going to!"

I sat in a passenger chair with only the pilot, co-pilot and one stewardess aboard. She made me drink a stiff Scotch and then eat some cold wild salmon filet and Castelmagno cheese crumbled on crackers. I wasn't that hungry, but I knew I'd need the protein because I didn't know when I'd eat again.

I tried to organize my thoughts, but they kept revolving in my head. Of all the things I could have been thinking of, memories of Nicole as a little girl, of her getting married, the million and one things that could have run through my mind; I thought of an old television show.

It was an old Don Johnson show that ran in the late '90s called "Nash Bridges." He played a smart-ass character, who was really the same character he'd played in Miami Vice, only older and divorced, with a grown daughter. He was Sonny Crockett, grown older and semi-tamed.

What stuck in my mind was an episode in which his daughter and another girl had been injured in an accident, but the hospital got their identities confused. A spokesman came out to tell him that his daughter had died.

I thought at the time that, for a cheesy formula television show, this one episode drove a needle through the heart of every parent watching. Johnson's despair at the thought of a life after his daughter was gone was real.

I kept remembering his anguished cry, "What am I going to do? What am I going to do without her?"

I didn't say it, but the same cry kept echoing through my mind.

Then I was at the hospital, where Gail already had a private security guard standing at the entrance, waiting to take me directly to the critical care unit where Nicole was fighting for her life. Simon didn't see me until I was on top of him and when I grabbed him he held me tight and shook like a leaf.

"Hugh, Hugh!"

"Where's Austin?"

"He's ... my mother ... she's watching him at her place."

"Hang on, Simon. My boss got one of the best neurosurgeons in the world on the way here. He'll be here any minute. She'll be in good hands. What happened?"

He rubbed the tears from his cheeks.

"She was ... walking back from lunch. A cab ... the cabbie ... cops said he had a heart attack, jammed the accelerator, hit her just before she reached the curb. She ... she was thrown 30 feet through the air. She was ... she was ... so broken..."

Just hearing the words, without seeing it, made my stomach turn.

"Mr. Davidson?"

Bret Wallinsky was a tall Brit, wire haired, big nosed, and the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. He was dressed in slacks and an open necked shirt, under which I saw a large silver Star of David pendant.

"Gail called me and gave me the details. I've been on the phone with Dr. Sloane and some specialists here. I don't have my team here, but I'll do what I can and the key people are on their way from London right now."

"Thank you, doctor."

He shrugged.

"I owe your boss more than I can ever repay her. She came to my aid when I desperately needed a friend. I'll do everything I can to bring your daughter back. No guarantees because it sounds like she's suffered an extreme amount of damage, but I don't like to lose patients, it makes me cranky. If you pray, that wouldn't hurt."

She was almost on us, her gaze focused on the doctors and nurses and on Wallinsky's back when she saw me and Simon. She froze, like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I wondered how she could have gotten here so quickly, unless she was visiting or had changed her place of work from San Francisco to New York.

She wore jeans and a blouse, open a few buttons from the top and showing a little bit of tummy. It was 30 years too young for her, but she made it work by looking like a 30-year-old! She wore no makeup, no lipstick, her hair windblown, and she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Simon looked up and saw her.

"Mary! Mary..."

She turned and walked away, first quickly and then almost running.

"Mary... ?" Simon said to her back, relief turning to confusion. He stared at me and something inside me snapped.

I ran through the doors to the critical care waiting section. As I reached the hallway, I saw her almost trotting to the left down a long corridor. A couple of nurses stared at me as I broke into a run but I ignored them. When I reached the end of the corridor I looked first to the left and then to the right. To the left was another long corridor gleaming empty under hospital lights. To the right, halfway down the hall, I saw doors marked, "Men" and "Women".

The door to "Women" was swinging shut. I walked swiftly toward it, not running because I didn't want to attract too much attention. I stood in front of the door, then pushed it open. A heavy-set woman in nurse's white stood washing her hands in front of the mirror. The door to one of the cubicles was swinging shut.