Happy Birthday (14 page)

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Valerie was feeling shaky when she dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a big down coat and left the house that same afternoon in a cab. She had planned to stay home and take it easy, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted to thank Jack Adams personally for what he’d done. She wasn’t exactly sure when he’d been shot, but she remembered him shielding her from the sniper to get her to the front door and out of the building. She still looked pale when she got out of the cab at New York–Presbyterian Hospital, and she had worn very little makeup, which was rare for her, but she looked pretty anyway.

Alan Starr, the psychic, had called her that afternoon, and apologized for not seeing the terrorist attack in her cards. He said that sometimes that happened, but like everyone else, he was grateful she had survived.

Jack was in a suite on the private VIP floor of the hospital, and just to be on the safe side, there were police guards outside his room. There had been no threats against him, but the police chief wanted to do everything he could for him, and had come himself to visit that morning. Jack had signed autographs for the chief’s kids and grandchildren, and thanked him for saving his life the night before when his artery was hit.

He was resting and there was no one in his room when Valerie knocked. One of the cops at the door had recognized her immediately. He said his wife was addicted to her show and had all her books, but he didn’t dare ask her for an autograph. He
knew she had been a hostage the day before. She still looked pretty shaken.

“Hi,” she said cautiously, as she peeked around the door. Jack was watching TV and looked half asleep. They had given him a shot for pain not long before, but he was awake enough to recognize her. He smiled as soon as he saw her face. “Can I come in, or is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s a fine time. Thanks for the food,” he said, struggling to sit up a little, and she told him not to, to just stay where he was. She promised not to stay long. “I didn’t realize April was your daughter. It’s my favorite place to eat,” he said, and meant it.

“Mine too. How do you feel?”

“Not so bad. I hurt my back two months ago, and that was worse. I just feel a little woozy from the drugs. The leg isn’t so bad.” And the painkillers were strong. “How about you?”

“I’m fine. Just a little shaky. It was a terrifying day. I came to thank you for helping to get me out. That was a brave thing for you to do and I’m sorry you got shot.” She said it admiringly, and he smiled. He had been hearing it all day, and all the nurses on the floor had been fighting to take care of him. He was in good hands.

“That’s okay. I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted. He changed the subject then. “The day I saw you in the elevator, I didn’t know it was your birthday till I saw it on the news. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself that day. It was my birthday too, and I was a mess with my herniated disk.”

“Your back looked pretty bad. I felt really sorry for you. How is it now?”

“It’s fine. I’m going to be on crutches for a while for the leg. Shit, ever since my birthday, I’ve been falling apart.” He laughed again. “I hit fifty, and it’s been downhill ever since.” He had heard how old she was on the news, so he knew she was older, but she didn’t look it. He thought she looked great, and not nearly her age, and old enough to have a daughter as grown-up as April. Even after the events of the day before, and with very little makeup on, he thought Valerie looked terrific.

“Don’t talk to me about birthdays. I’ve always kept mine quiet, and they had it all over radio and TV this year. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard it.” And then she sighed. “Somehow after yesterday, it doesn’t seem important. We’re lucky to be alive.” They were both sobered by the reality that so many others hadn’t survived it. “Today I don’t even care how old I am.” And she meant it.

“Yeah, me too, and I figure if I can survive a sniper, I should be okay from now on. The night of my birthday, I figured I was all washed up.”

“So did I.” She smiled. “I don’t want to wear you out,” she said politely, and he looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, two IVs going into his arms, and a machine next to him to self-administer pain medication. He was no longer on the critical list, but he was by no means recovered yet, and he had nearly died the night before. “I just wanted to thank you in person.”

“I really appreciate that, Valerie,” he said, saying her name
for the first time. And as she stood up, she realized how long his legs were in the bed. He was a tall, powerfully built man. “Thanks again for the food. Why don’t we have dinner at April’s sometime? They’re sending me home in time for Christmas, in a few days.”

“I’d offer to cook for you,” she said, as she approached the bed, and he smiled at her, “but I set a great table, and I’m a rotten cook. April is the chef in the family, I’m not.”

“I’m a pretty good cook, if I can stand up when I get out of here. I think April’s is our best bet. I’ll call you in a few days. Thanks for coming by.”

“Thanks for saving me,” she said, with a serious expression and tears in her eyes. “I thought we were going to die.” He reached out and took her hand and held it in his own with an equally serious expression.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen to you, or the others, if I could help it, once I had you in my sights in the lobby. You’re all right now,” he reassured her, and she nodded and brushed the tears off her cheeks. She was still very emotional after the day before, and the death of her assistant. And Jack was upset about Norman, the young assistant producer of his show, who had been one of the eleven who died. It had all hit very close to home. To them, the casualties weren’t just names, they were people they had cared about and known.

“I’m sorry. I’m still kind of shaken up after yesterday,” Valerie said with a trembling voice.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, and smiled at her again. There was something about him that was very reassuring. “Take care of yourself,” he said, sounding genuine and concerned.

“I will. You too. Would you like more food tomorrow?” It was all she could offer, although there were flower arrangements everywhere. Dozens of others had been sent to other wards and rooms.

“I’d love it. I’m addicted to April’s apple pie, if she has any. Waffles, fried chicken.” His appetite was healthy, and he was smiling at her. “Thanks for coming, Valerie. Take it easy. Don’t go back to work too soon.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I’m taping again tomorrow. I have another Christmas episode to do, for my evening show.”

“I’m off till the Super Bowl now. Dead or alive, they want me on air for it in Miami.” It was always the high point of his year as a sportscaster, just as it had been when he played football.

“You rest too,” she said, and walked to the door with a smile. She was grateful to him, and felt as though they had a special bond. She owed him her life. And she felt now as though she had a new friend. He was an easygoing guy, and she felt comfortable with him. He wasn’t seductive or romantic, not with her. He was just friendly and warm, and nice to talk to. “Take care, Jack,” she said with a wave as she left the room, and he lay thinking about her after she left. She seemed like a nice woman, and different than he had expected her to be. From all he had heard about her and seen on TV, he had expected her to be prissy and uptight and
she wasn’t. She was funny and witty, and unpretentious, in spite of her fame. And she was prettier and much more down to earth than he would have expected.

Valerie had always heard that he was a Lothario and womanizer, and he hadn’t come off like that either. He just seemed like a big, cuddly teddy bear, with a great sense of humor, and more guts than anyone she could ever imagine. And as Valerie went back uptown to her apartment, and he went back to sleep, they both thought about how nice it was to have a new friend, however unexpected. The events of the day before had formed a bond between them like no other. They had both survived something unimaginable.

Valerie called April from the cab and told her what to send him the next day. April was surprised that she was out, but Valerie told her that she had wanted to thank Jack Adams in person, which April thought was nice of her. It didn’t surprise her, her mother was always very thoughtful. After they hung up, Valerie wondered if he would actually invite her to dinner at April’s. He probably had lots of other things to do, and women backed up for miles, waiting for his attention, but she liked him, and she hoped he’d call her. It would be fun to have dinner with him. And even if he didn’t call, she was grateful to him anyway. She owed him and the SWAT team her life, as did so many others. Every second seemed precious now, and the world had never looked better to her, as she got out of the cab, after giving the driver a big tip. She smiled at the doorman, and went back to her apartment, which looked doubly beautiful to her
now. She appreciated everything, and saw life through new eyes. Having survived the day before had given her a new lease on life. She felt about fifteen years old, no matter what her driver’s license said. The numbers seemed completely irrelevant now. She was alive!

Chapter 9

T
he morning of Christmas Eve, Valerie went to a memorial service for Marilyn. There had already been a number of them for others who had been less fortunate than she and Jack. It made the events that had happened all too real.

Jack hadn’t been able to attend the service for Norman Waterman, the young production assistant he had liked so much who had also been killed. But he had sent a long and heartfelt letter to his family about what a fine man he had been and how much he admired him and what a huge loss it was for them all.

Valerie was brooding quietly about Marilyn when she got home after the service, thinking about how wonderful Marilyn had been and how much Valerie would miss her. It was hard to believe that people they knew were gone. It cast a pall over her all day.

And much to Valerie’s surprise, Jack did call her when he got
out of the hospital. They sent him home that morning, and he called her in the afternoon to wish her a Merry Christmas and thank her for all the meals from April’s. He said his son was home from college, and staying with him, and he also had a nurse to help him. He was still on crutches but said he was getting around okay. He invited her to dinner at April’s the day after Christmas. He asked if there was anyplace else she’d prefer, and they both agreed it was the best food in town, and a nice relaxed atmosphere that suited them both. He told her he’d see her in two days, and would pick her up to go downtown. They discovered that they only lived a few blocks from each other, and he said he’d pick her up at eight. She was delighted when she hung up.

And April was stunned to hear from Mike three hours before her family was due at the restaurant for Christmas Eve dinner. They had a lot to celebrate this year!

“This probably sounds crazy, and very rude,” Mike said, sounding embarrassed, “but I get depressed over the holidays. I think I need comfort food.” Spending the day of the terrorist attack together and his support had opened a door of friendship between them. And he didn’t know how to say it to her, but more than comfort food, he wanted to get to know her now as a friend.

“Do you want me to send you something?” April said, smiling at what he said. “What would you like?”

“I was actually thinking about your invitation to have dinner with your family. I’d like to come, if I can have pancakes for dinner.” She laughed at the suggestion, and told him she’d be delighted if he joined them. “I’d like to meet your mother, after
spending a whole day with you worrying about her. Do you think they’d mind my being there?”

“Not at all,” she said easily, not wanting to tell him that they were desperate to get a look at the man who had fathered her baby but wasn’t involved with her. It was a crazy situation. She wanted to remind her parents not to say anything embarrassing to him. She thought it was actually brave of him to come, comfort food or not. There was nothing comfortable about meeting the parents of a woman you had gotten pregnant but didn’t love or have a relationship with, or want the child. She was impressed, and curious about why he had really called. “Are you serious about the pancakes?” she inquired, not sure for a minute if he was kidding.

“Totally,” he said. “I usually get in a fetal position on Christmas Eve, and stay that way until New Year’s Day. This is a big break with tradition for me. I don’t want to shock my system too badly by eating Christmas food too. So don’t waste it on me. I’m the original Grinch. Pancakes would be great.”

“Your wish is my command, Mr. Steinman. A stack of my best buttermilk pancakes will be on your plate. No plum pudding for you!”

“Good. What time?”

“Eight.”

“Thanks for letting me crash your family dinner. I guess I’m curious about them. I assume they know about me,” he said cautiously, sounding a little nervous.

She didn’t want to lie to him. It was obvious that they did.
“They do. But they’ve been pretty cool about it. No one’s going to give you a hard time.”

“That’s decent of them. I would in their shoes,” he said honestly.

“I guess they just figure we’re a couple of shameless alcoholics who got what we deserved,” she teased him, and he laughed. There was a lot he liked about her, and he liked the night he had spent in bed with her, what he remembered of it. He may have been drunk, but he wasn’t blind or stupid. She was a smart, sexy, beautiful girl, and better than that, she was nice, even if she had gotten pregnant. He hadn’t forgiven her for that yet, or the fates, but it would be good if they could be friends. She didn’t seem to want more than that. And for now, that worked for him, even if nothing else did. He wouldn’t let himself think about the baby yet, and maybe never. That was too much for him to deal with. One thing at a time. First April. Then he’d see about the rest. He was touched by the fact that she wanted nothing from him and was being independent and gutsy about her circumstances. It was one of the things he liked about her, and he was beginning to think that her idea of having comfort food on the menu was not such a bad idea. It was exactly what he wanted now, not dinner at a three-star restaurant. He loved the idea of having pancakes on Christmas Eve, and so did a lot of people for whom the holidays were hard. He had finally gotten her message. Better late than never.