She hadn't slept much these past couple of days. She was too afraid to; alone, in a hospital in a strange town, where the only person she thought she knew had betrayed her.
She still refused to tell them her real name: Carly Stratton. As long as she had her way, no one would ever find out! Besides, she liked it when the nurses and doctors called her 'sweetie,' or 'honey.' She never got that sort of attention back home in Indiana. Both of her parents worked and she, being an only child, was often alone at home. She had turned to the fan magazines for company. Sometimes she wished for a fairy godmother to just whisk her away to her prince charming, and she thought she'd found that prince in Keith Partridge. But alas, if this was a fairy tale, then Keith Partridge had turned out to be the villain.
A nurse came in with a lunch tray, and Carly glared as it was placed the tray on the cart near the bed.
"Lunch time, sweetie," the nurse smiled kindly. "Better eat it up; you're going to have a visitor."
Carly sighed. "Who? Dr. Faber again? I'm really tired of talking with these psychiatrists, Nurse Keller."
"Nope, not Dr. Faber. I can't tell you who it is, but you'll be surprised." Nurse Keller's smile was a little on the sly side. She fluffed Carly's pillow, double checked the status of the I.V. in the bottle above her head and headed for the door.
"Why can't you tell me?" Carly was more than a little curious, now.
"I can't tell you that, either."
"Can you at least give me a time?" Carly asked.
"Oh, soon. Around two, I heard. Eat up!" The nurse instructed again before leaving the room.
****
Carly only ate part of the lunch. She hadn't had much of an appetite since she'd been here. She rolled over, checking her watch for the time. It was going on two. Almost time for this mysterious visitor. She reached under her pillow and pulled out the wrinkled magazine picture of Keith; the one she'd had when she downed all those pills. She was sort of glad they saved it. Smoothing it out on the edge of the mattress, she poured over it again. He certainly was beautiful; those deep brown eyes, that perfect nose and those kissable lips. How could she have believed that he didn't have a girlfriend? A guy this gorgeous had to have hundreds of them. How could she been so naïve? Well, one thing she could be sure of, HE wouldn't be the visitor!
The door opened, and Carly turned to look, slipping the picture back into its place beneath the pillow. A uniformed policeman was following Nurse Keller into the room.
Carly grabbed the bedcovers in terror as they approached the bed. The cop's face was serious, as was the nurse's.
"I have to check out the whole room," the cop was telling Nurse Keller.
"I understand. Well, I can tell you that she doesn't have any weapons on her. She's in a hospital gown."
Carly stared, watching, as the policeman pulled open the drawers on the small dresser near the door, opened the closet and finally disappeared into the bathroom.
"What's going on? Am I being arrested?" Carly swallowed, still clutching the bedcovers.
"No, dear. He brought your visitor."
Who was it, Carly wondered. The President? What were they looking for, a bomb?
Apparently finished with his search, the cop went to the door, opened it and gave a little nod to whoever was outside.
The person came in, following the taller policeman, with yet another policeman behind them.
At first she thought she was seeing things, but when he spoke, smiling at her, she knew it was real.
"Hi," Keith said, appearing a bit nervous. He was dressed in a soft blue striped shirt that casually hung out over his jeans, and white tennis shoes. He looked younger than she did.
She didn't know what to say. This was incredible. And how dare he come in here?
He didn't come any closer than the policemen would allow, as if she were contagious or something.
Just looking at him made her want to bawl. Her feelings about him were still mixed. So, she just stared at him.
Keith looked at the first cop. "You guys can wait over there," he told them, nodding toward the door.
They moved off hesitantly and Keith pulled up a chair. "Mind if I sit down?"
She shrugged. Yes, no, what difference did it make?
He didn't wait for an answer. He flipped the chair around and straddled it backwards, resting his arms on the back of it. She had a poster of him at home, sitting the exact same way.
Clearing his throat, he tried another smile. "I'm Keith Partridge, but then again, you already knew that."
Carly nodded.
"And your name is…" he prodded.
"What do you care?" She had to take her eyes off his face before she started bawling.
He twitched; she saw it out of the corner of her eye. This was bothering him; good, she thought. Make him miserable. She didn't want to be the only one.
"I do care. I'm here, aren't I?"
Again, she shrugged, still trying not to look at him. "I didn't ask you to come."
There was silence, and she forced a peek. His head hung down, forcing his hair to hide part of his face. She'd nailed him with that one.
When he looked up, his eyes were sad. "Look, I came here because I heard what happened and I feel responsible for it. I want to help you," he said, looking right into her eyes.
She swallowed. Maybe those magazine stories weren't so far-fetched after all. He genuinely seemed to care. She didn't want to push him any further. Tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. To cry in front of Keith Partridge…how would that look?
"My name's Carly," she said, and his gentle smile tugged on her heartstrings.
"Carly," he repeated. "That's pretty."
She glanced away, feeling his eyes still on her.
"What about your last name? You do have one, I assume."
She looked over at the policemen, who she knew were listening, too. "I can't tell you that."
Keith nodded, putting his chin on his arms and looking at her. She was rather non-descript; short, straight brown hair that curled just a little at the ends, brown eyes. He couldn't tell how tall she was, but she couldn't have been his height. The hospital gown and the covers hid her figure. "Carly," he said seriously. "Why did you try to kill yourself?"
How could she answer that? Because I thought I loved the real you and found out I'd been lied to the whole time? She swallowed again, looking away.
He continued. "You must have had a reason. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why, Carly? Is it because of me? Did I do something? What could I have done that would make you want to do this to yourself?" His voice rose in anguish. "I need to know. You owe me at least that."
Her eyes flashed with anger, now, and she glared at him. "I don't owe you anything, Keith Partridge!"
He nodded. "Yes, you do. They're blaming me for this, Carly. The whole world thinks I drove you to this; do you know what that's like for me?" He waved an arm. "I was being accused of something I didn't even know happened. You involved me, Carly, and I think you could at least give me an explanation."
She began to cry, burying her face in her hands.
He suddenly felt very sorry for her. He winced, pressing a fist into his temple. She already had enough problems, here. If he said anything more, he might drive her to try it again! "I'm sorry," he said softly. He got up from the chair and paced anxiously while she kept crying, unsure of whether he should touch her or not. This poor girl needed a hug, or something! Finally, when she'd calmed down a little, he leaned back against the small dresser, still looking at her.
"You're right, I do owe you an explanation, but…" she choked back more tears. "I just can't right now…"
He glanced back at the policemen who waited patiently at the door. Sighing, he nodded. "I understand. I guess the important thing is that you're okay." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, I have to leave now, but I can come back tomorrow, and we can talk some more. Would that be okay with you?"
She nodded and he smiled, stepping towards her.
He leaned down, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'll leave the fuzz at home this time," he said quietly, just so she could hear it. It drew a smile from her and he grinned crookedly. "Take care, okay?"
"'Bye, Keith," she said tearfully, wanting so badly to just throw her arms around him, but knew it would definitely be the wrong thing to do. She'd seen those policemen's guns!
"'Bye, Carly." He let go of her hand as the first policeman stepped forward, placing himself between them. He gave the officer a disenchanted look and moved toward the door.
Then he was gone.
****
The day had been so exhaustive, and Keith knew he could use a good long nap, but there was no way he was going to be able to sleep. He was still staring up at ceiling two hours later when his mother came into his room.
"Everything all right, honey?" she asked. "Did you get some sleep?"
"Hardly."
She smiled, coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're going to wear yourself down, Keith," she said, rubbing his shin.
He looked at her. "Mom, we need to help Carly."
She sighed. "We can't give her the help she needs, honey."
He propped himself up on his elbows. "Sure we can. All she needs is love."
"That's a pretty broad statement."
"It's true. Her suicide attempt was a cry for help. I just happened to be the object of her affection, as displaced as it may be. I think that, until they find her family or whatever, she should come here and stay with us." His innocence was only surpassed by his exuberance.
"Don't you think we should discuss this with the rest of the family first, before you invite her in?" Shirley was glad to see that he seemed to have forgotten all about the press conference, for the time being.
He sprang up. "Okay, then, let's call a family meeting!"
Shirley smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Now, wait a minute, Keith, you have to understand that the other kids might not be as…enthusiastic about this idea as you are."
"How could they not be, Mom? It's a chance to help someone out. We Partridges are famous for that. Well, that and the music, but gosh, Mom, we can't just sit here and do nothing."
She looked at the sincerity on his handsome face and her heart nearly burst with pride. Yes, ma'am, this is one special kid you have here. "Round 'em up, cowboy," she smiled.
He nearly flew out the door.
She still refused to tell them her real name: Carly Stratton. As long as she had her way, no one would ever find out! Besides, she liked it when the nurses and doctors called her 'sweetie,' or 'honey.' She never got that sort of attention back home in Indiana. Both of her parents worked and she, being an only child, was often alone at home. She had turned to the fan magazines for company. Sometimes she wished for a fairy godmother to just whisk her away to her prince charming, and she thought she'd found that prince in Keith Partridge. But alas, if this was a fairy tale, then Keith Partridge had turned out to be the villain.
A nurse came in with a lunch tray, and Carly glared as it was placed the tray on the cart near the bed.
"Lunch time, sweetie," the nurse smiled kindly. "Better eat it up; you're going to have a visitor."
Carly sighed. "Who? Dr. Faber again? I'm really tired of talking with these psychiatrists, Nurse Keller."
"Nope, not Dr. Faber. I can't tell you who it is, but you'll be surprised." Nurse Keller's smile was a little on the sly side. She fluffed Carly's pillow, double checked the status of the I.V. in the bottle above her head and headed for the door.
"Why can't you tell me?" Carly was more than a little curious, now.
"I can't tell you that, either."
"Can you at least give me a time?" Carly asked.
"Oh, soon. Around two, I heard. Eat up!" The nurse instructed again before leaving the room.
****
Carly only ate part of the lunch. She hadn't had much of an appetite since she'd been here. She rolled over, checking her watch for the time. It was going on two. Almost time for this mysterious visitor. She reached under her pillow and pulled out the wrinkled magazine picture of Keith; the one she'd had when she downed all those pills. She was sort of glad they saved it. Smoothing it out on the edge of the mattress, she poured over it again. He certainly was beautiful; those deep brown eyes, that perfect nose and those kissable lips. How could she have believed that he didn't have a girlfriend? A guy this gorgeous had to have hundreds of them. How could she been so naïve? Well, one thing she could be sure of, HE wouldn't be the visitor!
The door opened, and Carly turned to look, slipping the picture back into its place beneath the pillow. A uniformed policeman was following Nurse Keller into the room.
Carly grabbed the bedcovers in terror as they approached the bed. The cop's face was serious, as was the nurse's.
"I have to check out the whole room," the cop was telling Nurse Keller.
"I understand. Well, I can tell you that she doesn't have any weapons on her. She's in a hospital gown."
Carly stared, watching, as the policeman pulled open the drawers on the small dresser near the door, opened the closet and finally disappeared into the bathroom.
"What's going on? Am I being arrested?" Carly swallowed, still clutching the bedcovers.
"No, dear. He brought your visitor."
Who was it, Carly wondered. The President? What were they looking for, a bomb?
Apparently finished with his search, the cop went to the door, opened it and gave a little nod to whoever was outside.
The person came in, following the taller policeman, with yet another policeman behind them.
At first she thought she was seeing things, but when he spoke, smiling at her, she knew it was real.
"Hi," Keith said, appearing a bit nervous. He was dressed in a soft blue striped shirt that casually hung out over his jeans, and white tennis shoes. He looked younger than she did.
She didn't know what to say. This was incredible. And how dare he come in here?
He didn't come any closer than the policemen would allow, as if she were contagious or something.
Just looking at him made her want to bawl. Her feelings about him were still mixed. So, she just stared at him.
Keith looked at the first cop. "You guys can wait over there," he told them, nodding toward the door.
They moved off hesitantly and Keith pulled up a chair. "Mind if I sit down?"
She shrugged. Yes, no, what difference did it make?
He didn't wait for an answer. He flipped the chair around and straddled it backwards, resting his arms on the back of it. She had a poster of him at home, sitting the exact same way.
Clearing his throat, he tried another smile. "I'm Keith Partridge, but then again, you already knew that."
Carly nodded.
"And your name is…" he prodded.
"What do you care?" She had to take her eyes off his face before she started bawling.
He twitched; she saw it out of the corner of her eye. This was bothering him; good, she thought. Make him miserable. She didn't want to be the only one.
"I do care. I'm here, aren't I?"
Again, she shrugged, still trying not to look at him. "I didn't ask you to come."
There was silence, and she forced a peek. His head hung down, forcing his hair to hide part of his face. She'd nailed him with that one.
When he looked up, his eyes were sad. "Look, I came here because I heard what happened and I feel responsible for it. I want to help you," he said, looking right into her eyes.
She swallowed. Maybe those magazine stories weren't so far-fetched after all. He genuinely seemed to care. She didn't want to push him any further. Tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. To cry in front of Keith Partridge…how would that look?
"My name's Carly," she said, and his gentle smile tugged on her heartstrings.
"Carly," he repeated. "That's pretty."
She glanced away, feeling his eyes still on her.
"What about your last name? You do have one, I assume."
She looked over at the policemen, who she knew were listening, too. "I can't tell you that."
Keith nodded, putting his chin on his arms and looking at her. She was rather non-descript; short, straight brown hair that curled just a little at the ends, brown eyes. He couldn't tell how tall she was, but she couldn't have been his height. The hospital gown and the covers hid her figure. "Carly," he said seriously. "Why did you try to kill yourself?"
How could she answer that? Because I thought I loved the real you and found out I'd been lied to the whole time? She swallowed again, looking away.
He continued. "You must have had a reason. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why, Carly? Is it because of me? Did I do something? What could I have done that would make you want to do this to yourself?" His voice rose in anguish. "I need to know. You owe me at least that."
Her eyes flashed with anger, now, and she glared at him. "I don't owe you anything, Keith Partridge!"
He nodded. "Yes, you do. They're blaming me for this, Carly. The whole world thinks I drove you to this; do you know what that's like for me?" He waved an arm. "I was being accused of something I didn't even know happened. You involved me, Carly, and I think you could at least give me an explanation."
She began to cry, burying her face in her hands.
He suddenly felt very sorry for her. He winced, pressing a fist into his temple. She already had enough problems, here. If he said anything more, he might drive her to try it again! "I'm sorry," he said softly. He got up from the chair and paced anxiously while she kept crying, unsure of whether he should touch her or not. This poor girl needed a hug, or something! Finally, when she'd calmed down a little, he leaned back against the small dresser, still looking at her.
"You're right, I do owe you an explanation, but…" she choked back more tears. "I just can't right now…"
He glanced back at the policemen who waited patiently at the door. Sighing, he nodded. "I understand. I guess the important thing is that you're okay." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, I have to leave now, but I can come back tomorrow, and we can talk some more. Would that be okay with you?"
She nodded and he smiled, stepping towards her.
He leaned down, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'll leave the fuzz at home this time," he said quietly, just so she could hear it. It drew a smile from her and he grinned crookedly. "Take care, okay?"
"'Bye, Keith," she said tearfully, wanting so badly to just throw her arms around him, but knew it would definitely be the wrong thing to do. She'd seen those policemen's guns!
"'Bye, Carly." He let go of her hand as the first policeman stepped forward, placing himself between them. He gave the officer a disenchanted look and moved toward the door.
Then he was gone.
****
The day had been so exhaustive, and Keith knew he could use a good long nap, but there was no way he was going to be able to sleep. He was still staring up at ceiling two hours later when his mother came into his room.
"Everything all right, honey?" she asked. "Did you get some sleep?"
"Hardly."
She smiled, coming in and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're going to wear yourself down, Keith," she said, rubbing his shin.
He looked at her. "Mom, we need to help Carly."
She sighed. "We can't give her the help she needs, honey."
He propped himself up on his elbows. "Sure we can. All she needs is love."
"That's a pretty broad statement."
"It's true. Her suicide attempt was a cry for help. I just happened to be the object of her affection, as displaced as it may be. I think that, until they find her family or whatever, she should come here and stay with us." His innocence was only surpassed by his exuberance.
"Don't you think we should discuss this with the rest of the family first, before you invite her in?" Shirley was glad to see that he seemed to have forgotten all about the press conference, for the time being.
He sprang up. "Okay, then, let's call a family meeting!"
Shirley smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Now, wait a minute, Keith, you have to understand that the other kids might not be as…enthusiastic about this idea as you are."
"How could they not be, Mom? It's a chance to help someone out. We Partridges are famous for that. Well, that and the music, but gosh, Mom, we can't just sit here and do nothing."
She looked at the sincerity on his handsome face and her heart nearly burst with pride. Yes, ma'am, this is one special kid you have here. "Round 'em up, cowboy," she smiled.
He nearly flew out the door.