VIII
Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark
And deep inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullaby's go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be
Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel), Billy Joel
As it transpired, it took Dennis Levine thirty minutes to find a private jet to get Monica Warner to New York City. No Warner jets were available, so he had used some contacts within some of the private jet world to book the flight. Dennis had given Monica the courtesy of checking with her every few minutes, to let her know that he was still working. He may detest Monica on one level, but Blair was her daughter, and the daughter of the man who had been one of his best friends. Right now, Blair needed her mother to be with her. All else paled by comparison.
"Monica, I'm sorry it took so long, but we've got you a ride. A limo from our Paris office will be to your place in about one hour. The two drivers are receiving the information on your departure as I speak. You'll be taking a NetJets Gulfstream G-200 from de Gaulle to Stewart International in Newburgh. A Warner limo will pick you up there and take you directly to the hospital. The plane should be landing from Heathrow in about thirty minutes, and they'll be ready to go when you arrive. Flight time, according to NetJets, is 7 hours, 37 minutes take off to touch-down."
Monica had been furiously scribbling the information down. "I'm writing all of it down, but can you send me a text message on my cell phone, Dennis? My hands are a little shaky right now."
"I can do that, Monica. I can't even imagine what you are going through right now. I'll send it out shortly."
"That would be appreciated, Dennis." Monica paused. "I know you don't have to do this, but I appreciate it."
"Nonsense, Monica. Despite what happened, you're still a part of the Warner family. I love Blair like a daughter, and her father was perhaps my best friend. You need to be with her. If I do hear anything, I'll contact you."
At about that same time, Jo Polniaczek finally arrived at the Hospital. Edna, Diane Ramsey, and Bailey were waiting by the main entrance of the ER for her arrival. First thing Jo did when she saw the three was run to Bailey and wrap her in an all-consuming hug, the younger girl finally giving way to racking sobs.
"Jo", she trembled, "they won't give us any information on what's going on with Blair and DC. I'm so scared."
Jo hugged her as if Bailey's life depended on it, briefly closing her eyes, to choke back her own fright and tears. "Hey, listen to me, kid, everything's gonna be all right. You know, your sister may be a Princess", she teased, forcing a smile from her lips, "but she's as tough, and as brave as anyone I've ever known. We'll get through this. I ain't leaving you during this, you understand?"
Bailey nodded, again hugging Jo with all her might. "I love you, Jo."
"I love you so much, Bailey. You're part of my family. You know no one messes with my family."
She rose and made her way quickly to Diane and Edna. "What's this I hear about getting no information." The was a sharp edge in Jo's voice.
"Joanna", Diane began, "we have found out that Dorothy is in Stable Condition, with a concussion, and a few broken bones, but her injuries aren't life-threatening."
Jo, realizing she had come off half-cocked, while Diane's own daughter was injured, took a breath, then hugged the woman. "Thank God for that, Mrs. Ramsey. I'm sorry for actin' like that."
"No apology needed, Jo. I completely understand."
Jo turned to Mrs. Garrett. "They've told you nothing about Blair or DC?"
Edna shook her head. "No, they can't tell us anything, Jo", Mrs. G reasoned. "We're not next of kin, and they can't give out information to us under their laws and rules."
"Wait a sec..." It finally dawned on Jo. "You mean, if I go ask for how they're doin', they won't tell me? For God's sake, I'm her partner; DC's my son. They're my family!"
"We all know that, Jo", Diane continued, "but under the law, only the next of kin..."
Jo didn't let Diane finish. She grabbed Bailey's hand and walked over to the information desk, where a female nurse was stationed.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" The lady was, for the moment, calm, already seeing this would not be fun.
"Yeah, my name's Jo Polniaczek. My partner, Blair Warner, and our son, David Warner, were brought here after a car accident a few hours ago. I'd like to know their status."
The nurse pulled up the information on her screen. "I'm sorry, miss?" The nurse looked at her in question.
"Polniaczek", Jo ground out. "Jo Polniaczek."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Polniaczek, but you're not listed as a relative of Miss Warner. Her next of kin is a Monica Warner."
"Yeah, Monica Warner", Jo said, her voice starting to rise. "That's Blair's mom, and she's in fuckin' France right now, that's where she lives. The only other 'kin' Blair has is this young lady here." She pointed a thumb at Bailey, "and I know you ain't gonna give such information to an eleven-year old. You see", Jo said, moving closer, her hands on the desk, "Blair and DC are my family. Blair and I are Partners for life, and little David is our son."
"Is the infant your biological son, Ms. Polniaczek?"
That set Jo off.
"Why does that fucking matter! She's practically my wife, and he's my son. We have a home together, they're my entire life. I need to know if they're fuckin' dead or alive!"
Diane and Edna had caught up to Jo and Bailey, both women trying to calm her. Jo was having none of it.
"I want to know if my partner and son are even alive, is that too much to ask?"
A security guard had been nearby, and stayed close but out of sight until the last outburst from Jo. It shattered his heart, instances like this, that were so unfair. Listening to the young woman's voice, he could feel her anguish and despair penetrate his older exterior. But he also had to keep order.
He appeared and looked at the nurse, who nodded sadly. "Hey hon-Jo, right?" Jo simply nodded, the sobs taking her over. "Jo, believe me, if I or the nurse here could, we'd tell ya, but we have our own laws and rules to follow. I know it sucks, and it ain't fair, but for now, it's all we can do."
He put a comforting arm around the brunette. "In fact, why don't I get all of ya' into a private room-we have a few, you know, get you settled with chairs and a bed for you, and I'll have the kitchen make you ladies some food and drinks." He looked over at the nurse. "Taking them to one-oh-nine." She nodded, putting a call into the 24/7 kitchen.
Still cradling her, he walked the sobbing woman the short distance to a large, empty room, giving them the privacy they so badly needed at the moment.
11:30pm Mountain Time, Denver, Colorado
Natalie had just ended a call with her mother, telling her of the latest catastrophe back home. She informed her about Tootie, that she was hurt, but going to be okay, and angrily informed her mother that there was no word on Blair or David, as Monica had to fly in from France, being next of kin. It was so fucking unfair, Natalie thought. Family and kin wasn't just bloodline, it was a way of living, a way of accepting those that meant the most to you.
After that, she called Mrs. Garrett, to see if there were anything new. Edna told her that Monica had been chartered an aircraft by Warner International, but her arrival time wasn't known at the moment. Natalie wanted to say something about Monica, who had tried to humiliate her daughter and lover, take over her ex-husband's company, but still had the nerve to have Warner International fly her across the smaller pond. She held her peace. Mrs. G. let her know that Jo was, thankfully, asleep at the moment, which Natalie was happy about. She wanted to talk to Jo, but not when she was an emotional powder keg.
She climbed aboard the Continental Airlines Boeing 757-2oo. Hell, for all she knew, it was the same bird she had flown from Denver to Newark Liberty after 9/11 and David Warner's death. The only available seats had been in First Class, which was fine by Natalie, as even with a gate departure time of 11:50 pm, local time, there were a lot of loud families and kids back in steerage. She'd have one glass of wine, then try to relax. The three-and-a-half hour flight was scheduled to arrive in Newark at 5:35am, Eastern time.
She prayed to whatever God there was, that this wasn't a repeat trip of the one she took in 2001.
The day had stretched out far longer than Monica Warner would have liked or needed. The news of her daughter Blair's accident in New York, with no information available because, well, because she was on the other side of the Atlantic, and, as next of kin, those waiting anxiously in Peekskill could not, by law, be granted information.
A multi-car accident between her home and Paris had slowed the Warner International limo to a crawl, Monica not daring to look at the wreckage, lest it set her into a panic. When the did finally arrive at Charles de Gaulle International Airport, one of the great weather acronym's of all time delayed her further. The aeronautical term for what met her at de Gaulle was called WOXOF: Weather Obscured Zero Visibility and Fog. In layman's terms it meant that you could barely see your nose at the end of your face, let alone a three-mile runway at an airport.
Mercifully, the fog finally lifted, and at 2:27 am, local time, her NetJets business leapt skyward, heading out over the Atlantic Ocean, bound for Stewart International Airport in Newburgh, New York. Once they reached their cruising altitude of 33 thousand feet, the captain informed her over the intercom that touchdown was estimated at 4:29 am in Newburgh.
After one glass of wine, Monica closed her eyes and, somehow, fell into a fitful sleep.