The Kiss

Even Gordon noticed it during the little time he spent in the house. He wondered if her obviously failing health was related to her accident, and when Sophie saw her when she returned from school, she was terrified. Isabelle looked as though she were dying.

“Are you ill?” Gordon finally asked her one day over breakfast. He had actually spent the night in the house. He still didn't know that Isabelle was aware that he often slept out. But Isabelle had lost so much weight that her clothes hung on her more than they had after the accident.

“I haven't been feeling well. I'm having migraines,” she said to explain the gray color of her face. She could see it too, but she couldn't seem to eat or sleep anymore.

“It must be a recurrence of your injury,” he said, looking vaguely concerned. “I want you to call the doctor.” It was the first sign of interest he had shown for her in months. “I'm going away next week, and I think you should see about it before I leave.” She wondered if he was going away with Louise. She had long since realized that the previous summer when she was in the hospital with Bill, he had probably spent the entire time with Louise. Her absence had been a blessing for him, she was sure. And his failure to come back and visit her had had nothing to do with her, or Bill, or any anger about that, it had to do with his own involvement with Louise, and the time he wanted to spend with her, and could with Isabelle away. But she no longer cared about that. It was simply a fact of their life, and apparently had been for years.

“Where are you going?” she asked, trying to look interested, but she wasn't. In anything anymore. It was all she could do to take care of Teddy now, and she was relieved that Sophie had come home for a few days.

“To see clients in the South of France.” She was sure the “client” was Louise, but of course she didn't ask. “I want you to call the doctor today,” he reminded her when he left, but she didn't. She knew what was wrong with her. Her heart was broken, it had nothing to do with the accident the year before. It had been exactly one year. It was hard to believe Bill was out of her life. And lately, she found herself wishing she had died during the accident. It would have been so much easier than what she was going through now. She wondered if the pain would ever stop, and doubted it. Each day was worse than the one before. She had nothing to look forward to, nothing to wish for, nothing to hope, nothing she believed in anymore, no faith that life would be kind to her. Bill had taken it all with him and left her nothing but memories and grief. And the worst of it was that she wasn't even angry at him. She just loved him, and knew she always would. She was like an animal who had lost its mate and was looking for a quiet place to die.

“Mommy, what's wrong?” Sophie asked in a worried voice when they met outside Teddy's room that afternoon.

“Nothing, darling. I'm just tired.” She looked terrible, and everyone could see it. Sophie and Teddy's nurse Marthe had been talking about it that afternoon. Teddy said that she'd been looking ill ever since she got a call that a friend had died. But the others sensed that the cause of Isabelle's despair ran far deeper than that, and they were all seriously afraid not only for her health, but her life.

When Gordon inquired that night, she said the doctor had said she was fine. She hadn't even bothered to call, and she knew Gordon wouldn't check to see if she had.

It crossed his mind that some very intense emotional pain must have been the cause of it, a failed love affair, a broken heart. A warning bell in his head made him think of Bill, and he rejected the idea just as fast. She wouldn't dare start that again, Gordon knew, after the warnings he'd given her. But he understood nothing about the force of her love for Bill, or who she really was.

The next day, Gordon left for the South of France, looking unconcerned. The number he left was the Hotel du Cap. He was planning to be away for three weeks, and Isabelle didn't question it. It was a relief to have him gone. She no longer had to make excuses to him for how ill she felt, or how bad she looked. It was far easier to be alone.

And when he returned three weeks later, he was shocked to find her looking worse. He looked healthy and tanned, and she looked as though she were suffering from a terminal disease. She and Teddy looked equally sick. Sophie cried when she talked to him about it. But he said that her mother had seen the doctor several weeks before, and he had declared her fit. He didn't want to know more than that, or face the possibility that he might have another invalid in the house.

Gordon left again in August, on a lengthy business trip in Italy and Spain. Sophie had gone to Brittany for a few weeks, to visit friends. And Isabelle was content to be alone with Teddy. She was reading to him again and making an effort for him, in order not to worry him, but she couldn't imagine ever being herself again. It had been easier to get over the accident than to lose Bill. She woke every morning now thinking of him, and wishing she were dead.

And it was while Gordon and Sophie were gone that Teddy caught a nasty summer flu. It seemed like a head cold at first, and then went straight to his chest. He ran a high fever, and the doctor put him on antibiotics to make sure it wouldn't get worse. But the fever kept rising, and nothing Isabelle or the nurse did brought it down. By the third day, he could hardly breathe. Even the doctor was concerned by how unresponsive he was. And at the end of two more days, he had pneumonia. He was rapidly going from bad to worse. Five days after it started, the doctor put him in the hospital, and Isabelle stayed there with him. She thought about calling Gordon, but it seemed wrong to bother him. He was never involved in Teddy's miseries anyway. They always fell to her.

“Am I going to die?” Teddy asked her with huge glassy eyes in the hospital, as she stroked his head, and put cool cloths on his forehead and wrists. The nurses were grateful for her help.

“Of course not. But you have to get well now. This is a silly bug, and you've been sick long enough.” But he had a 107-degree fever that night. And Isabelle called Gordon the next day.

“I don't know what it is. It's some kind of virus. But he's very sick.” She sounded even more exhausted than before, and looked worse.

“He's always sick,” Gordon said, sounding annoyed. He was in Tuscany, and it was hard for Isabelle to imagine what kind of business he had there. It was another vacation with Louise undoubtedly, but Isabelle no longer cared. “There's nothing I can do from here.”

“I just thought you'd want to know,” she said, wondering why she'd even bothered to call. It had been a courtesy, rather than a plea for help.

“Call me if he gets worse.” And then what would he do, Isabelle thought to herself. What if he dies, should I call then? Or would that be an imposition too? But she didn't say anything to him.

She waited two more days, and then called Sophie. Teddy was delirious by then, and Isabelle was panicked as she tried to talk to him. They were giving him intravenous antibiotics, but by then his lungs were failing, and the doctor was worried about his heart. She was suddenly terrified that this was the moment she had always feared. And unlike her father, Sophie came home that night from Brittany. The two women sat with him for hours, neither of them slept, and they each held one hand, standing on either side of his bed, as he dozed. He talked in his sleep at times, but very little of what he said made sense.

He looked peaceful finally the next morning when he woke. It was a hot, muggy day, and he was blazing to the touch, but he kept saying he was cold. It was nightfall before he spoke to them that day. The doctor came and went, and the nurses checked on him, and late that night, the doctor told Isabelle that things didn't look good. He was getting worse.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm worried about his heart. It can't stand so much strain. He's a very sick boy.” She knew that already, but she was frustrated that they couldn't seem to do anything for him.

And much to her horror, they spent another week that way, with Teddy seeming to hover between life and death. Both Sophie and Isabelle were beyond exhausted by then. They looked almost as bad as he did. And Isabelle was horrified that Gordon had never called to ask how Teddy was, after Isabelle's call to Tuscany nearly two weeks before. She imagined that he just assumed that Teddy had recovered. And as the third week began, Teddy slipped into unconsciousness. He had several seizures, and his pneumonia was worse. Isabelle couldn't imagine how he'd survived this long, and she just sat in the hall and cried, and then went back in the room to sit next to him. And that night she called Gordon again.

Just as she'd guessed, he had assumed that the child was fine, and was startled to hear how ill he still was.

“I didn't know if you'd want to come home.”

“Do you think I should?” He didn't sound enthused by the idea, but he did sound concerned. The situation was far worse than he'd expected it to be by then.

“That's up to you. He's very sick.” He hadn't regained consciousness since the night before, and the doctor was no longer sure he would again. Gordon said to call him the next day.

Isabelle and Sophie sat with Teddy all that night, and at five in the morning, he opened his eyes and smiled at both of them. They both cried with relief and thought it was a good sign. But the nurse said his fever had gone higher during the night. It was close to 108. But he was talking to them. This time, when the doctor came, he shook his head. The boy's heart was giving out. It was the moment Isabelle had dreaded all his life, and now it had come. She looked devastated, and felt strangely calm, as she waited with her son for whatever hand Fate would deal them.

He was talking to her clearly now, and holding her hand. He looked at Sophie with an angelic smile. Isabelle kissed his cheek, and felt how hot and dry it was until it was bathed by her tears. She couldn't stop crying.

“I love you, my little one.” He had always been so loving to her, so patient and so sweet. He had had a lifetime of pain and never complained. And he didn't complain now. He just held her hand in his and drifted between sleep and waking. She had an uncontrollable urge to hang on to him, to keep him from the edge of the abyss where his soul was dancing. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. But there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening to him.

He looked at her then and smiled. “I'm happy, Mommy,” he said quietly, and then turned to his sister, “I love you, Sophie,” and then with the smallest of sighs, he was gone, as they each held his hands. It was peaceful and simple, the release of his soul from the body that had tormented him all his life, and Isabelle took him in her arms and held him as she cried. Sophie watched them and sobbed, and then Isabelle hugged Sophie. Teddy looked beautiful as he lay on the bed, and the two women hugged him and kissed him for a last time, and then walked quietly out of the room. It was a hot sunny day and Isabelle felt lost when she reached the street. She couldn't believe he had left them. It was unimaginable, unthinkable, unbearable. He had looked so sweet. She knew she would remember his last expression all her life. She stood in the street sobbing and hugging her daughter, as Sophie clung to her.

The two women hailed a cab and went home, and Isabelle broke into sobs when she saw his room. He had truly been like the Little Prince in Saint-Exupery's book, and now he was gone to his own world, a world he never should have left. But he had given her so much joy during his brief lifetime.

She made Sophie a cup of tea, and then called Gordon, and she sounded amazingly calm. He was stunned when he heard the news. He said he'd be home that night. He didn't cry or tell her he was sorry. He said almost nothing and hung up. And Isabelle thought of calling Bill, but she knew there was no point, he was no longer there for her, and he had never met the boy. She knew she had to let Bill go. She felt she no longer had a right to call him and intrude on his life.

She and Sophie went to the funeral home that afternoon and made arrangements for him. They picked a simple white casket, and Isabelle ordered flowers, lilies of the valley and white roses, and she knew no one would come to his funeral but them, and his nurses. He had never gone to school, had no friends, and Isabelle had led a secluded life for years. They were the only ones who had known and loved him. Isabelle couldn't imagine what she would do without him. He had been not only her life and her heart, but her job for years Isabelle was crying softly, and Sophie was inconsolable when they went home. And Gordon arrived from Rome late that night, looking somber and subdued.

He went to the funeral home with Isabelle and Sophie the next day. Isabelle had asked that the casket be closed. She couldn't bear to see him that way, although he had been as beautiful in death as he had been in life. Gordon had said he didn't want to see him, which Isabelle understood. He had never been able to tolerate Teddy's frailty or illness, and although he was his father, he barely knew him. He had resisted knowing him all his life, and it was too late now.

The three of them had dinner in the dining room that night. Isabelle said nothing as Sophie and Gordon talked. No one spoke of Teddy, it was just too painful. Isabelle went to her room afterward and lay down on the bed, and all she could think of was the child she had borne whose life had always been so fragile. He was like a butterfly who had finally escaped them, and flown away. She was grateful to have loved him and known him at all.

The funeral the next day was in the chapel of their church, and the eulogy was written by a priest who never knew him, and mispronounced his name. But it was the ride to the cemetery that nearly destroyed Isabelle, she couldn't bear to leave him there and she wanted to throw herself on his casket. She touched it a hundred times before she left, and took one of the delicate white roses with her to press in a book. She felt as though she were moving underwater or recovering from another coma. She had no idea how ill she looked by the time they got home. She could hardly breathe or move. Every instant was intolerably painful.

It was late that afternoon when Gordon came into her bedroom, and frowned as he looked down at her. She was lying on her bed and her face was the color of white marble. “I don't know what's wrong with you,” he said, looking more annoyed than concerned. He was beginning to hate being around her. She always looked so ill and had for a while. “You look like we should have buried you today instead of Teddy. What's wrong with you, Isabelle?”

“I just lost my son.” Her eyes were broken as she looked at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“So did I. But you've looked like this for two months.”

“Have I? I'm sorry.” She turned her face away from him. She didn't want to see him, and wished he would leave.

“It's very hard on Sophie to see you looking like that.”

“It's very hard on me to lose my son,” she said without expression in her voice.

“We've expected this for years,” he reminded her, “although I know it's a shock, particularly after the blow to your system you had last year.” He was beginning to think now that she had never regained her health. But she was struck, as she watched him, by how totally cold and unemotional he was. No one would have believed that he had also just lost his son. He seemed more a visitor to the house than a member of the family, and certainly not the child's father. He looked at Isabelle almost with curiosity and asked her a strange question. “What are you going to do now?”

“About what?” His room? Her life? His clothes? She couldn't bear to think of it.

“Taking care of Teddy is all you've done for the past fifteen years. You can't just bury yourself with him now.”

Why not? But she didn't say the words. With any luck at all, she thought, she was truly going to die. After losing Teddy, and Bill, she had very little to live for, except Sophie. But Gordon stunned her with what he said next. “I think you should go to stay with Sophie in Grenoble when she goes back to school in two weeks. I really think it's an excellent idea. You need to get out of this house finally, and it will do you good to be with her.” What Isabelle understood instantly was that he was banishing her to the provinces so he could stay with Louise. It was a very clever plan, and so easily explained because of Teddy's death. He was brilliant.

“Are you serious?” She almost laughed at the look on his face. He seemed so solicitous, but so desperate for her to leave. He must have been terrified that, without Teddy to keep her busy, she would try to reclaim her place as his wife. “What on earth do you expect me to do there? I'm sure Sophie would be horrified, justifiably, to have me underfoot.” It was the last thing Isabelle wanted to do now.

“Well, you can't just lie around here,” he said, looking annoyed again.

“Is that what you think I do?” There was an edge to their conversation. Isabelle had had enough of the pretense and the sham they had already played out for too many years, and she wasn't going to be fobbed off now on the pretext that he thought she should be with Sophie. She was devastated by losing Teddy, but she was not going to become a nuisance to her daughter while she grieved him. She had more sense and more dignity than that. And she was too smart not to see through what he had in mind for her.

“I have no idea what you do,” he said unpleasantly, “other than take care of that child.”

“‘ That child’ was your son, and he's dead now. Have a little respect. For him. And for me.” It was the first time she had dared to speak to him like that. And he was not pleased.

“Isabelle, don't tell me how to behave. If you'll recall, I tolerated a great deal of bad behavior from you last year, around the time of your accident. And I'm not going to put up with any more nonsense from you.”

“Really?” Isabelle asked, with dangerously glittering eyes. He was coming across the line of what she could tolerate, and at an astonishing speed. “And what kind of bad behavior was that?”

“You know exactly what I mean. I put up with your affair with Bill Robinson. You were very lucky I didn't divorce you.” The weapons had just been unveiled. But for once, having lost so much, Isabelle was no longer frightened of him. With Teddy's death, Gordon had lost his hold on her. Perhaps forever, and surely for now.

“And you're very lucky that I've put up with the way you've treated me for the past twenty years, and the appalling way you treated your son for the last fifteen.” They were locked in deadly combat, Isabelle hadn't anticipated having this conversation with him so soon after Teddy's death, but she was ready for him. And she remembered what Bill had said when he left, about saving the ammunition until Gordon attacked her again, and he finally had. On the day of Teddy's funeral. It was an appalling cruelty and disrespect, but not surprising from him.

Gordon stood looking at her as though he wanted to slap her, but didn't dare. “I won't tolerate this from you. You'll find yourself in the street with your hat in your hand, Isabelle, if you're not careful.”

“You don't frighten me anymore, Gordon.” She had nothing left to lose. She didn't need to protect Teddy anymore, and she no longer cared if Gordon threw her out. It would be a blessing for her in the end if he did. “You don't frighten me at all.” He could see that she meant it.

“And where will you go if I throw you out?” He spat the words at her, and Isabelle looked remarkably calm, as her eyes met his and held firm.

“Perhaps you and the Comtesse de Ligne would be kind enough to let me stay in your apartment on the rue du Bac? I assume, if you ‘threw me out,’ she would be staying with you here?” She said it in a quiet, ladylike voice, and Gordon let out an irate roar. He sounded like a wounded lion, and he came so close to her, she could see his every pore. He was so angry, he was shaking.

“You don't know what you're talking about!” he shouted at her, stunned by what she had just said. It was a blow he hadn't expected, and for a moment, it knocked him off balance.

“Maybe not, but apparently half of Paris knows, and has for the last ten years. She called here by mistake, on New Year's Eve. I think she was drunk, but it opened my eyes to what I should have seen years ago. So don't speak to me about Bill Robinson, Gordon. He's beside the point.”

“Is he still in your life?” He had no right to know, but she told him anyway. He was staggered that she knew about Louise, and had never said a word to him.

“No, he's not. But I gather the countess is very much in yours. I assume she was in Italy with you.” He didn't admit it to Isabelle, but her assumption was accurate, and a number of people knew it. “I've been told she can't or won't marry you until her husband dies. That must be difficult for you. And what were you planning to do with me then, Gordon? How were you planning to get rid of me, other than shipping me off to Grenoble to stay with Sophie?”

“You're insane! You're deranged by the loss of your son. I won't listen to this nonsense.” Gordon looked like he was about to walk out. He did not want to hear another word from her.

“No,” she said calmly. “I'm heartbroken, but not insane. I must have been though not to see what you were doing for all these years. You weren't even sleeping here, and I was too stupid to know it, because you were so busy terrorizing me. Well, those days are over.”

“Get out of my house!” he barked at her. He was shaking with fury.

“I will, but not until I'm ready to. And in the meantime, I suggest you stay with her.” He stormed out of her bedroom then, and a moment later she heard him slam the front door. It had been an incredible scene, and she suddenly realized he had walked out on her, and she didn't even care. It was as though losing Teddy had finally freed her. She had lost so much when she lost Teddy and Bill, she had absolutely nothing to lose anymore, except Sophie. And in leaving, Gordon had released her from the misery and lies they had shared for far too many years.

“What did he say to you, Mom?” Sophie asked quietly. Isabelle hadn't seen her slip into her room. She had come in after her father left, and she looked frightened. She had never heard them fight like that in her entire life.

“It's not important,” Isabelle said, sitting down on her bed again. She felt shaken, but relieved.

“It is important,” Sophie said. “Mom, he's horrible to you. He's my father, and I love him, but I don't want him to be mean to you anymore.” Particularly today, after Teddy's funeral, it was outrageous.

As she looked at her daughter, Isabelle suddenly realized all that had just happened. “He just told me to move out.” She was oddly quiet and composed as she said it. And Sophie needed to know what had happened.

“Do you have to do that?” Sophie's eyes were enormous in her face, and Isabelle thought about it. Sophie looked terrified, but Isabelle did not. She was strangely calm.

“I suppose I do. It's his house.” Their marriage had ended on the day of Teddy's funeral, which was right somehow. It was over at last.

“Where will you go?” There were tears in Sophie's eyes.

“I suppose I'll get an apartment. I should have done it a long time ago, but I couldn't have taken care of Teddy without his help.” Sophie nodded, as Isabelle understood that everything was ending around her. She had lost so much. Teddy, Bill, her home, her marriage. Everything she had known or loved or cherished or counted on or believed in had come to an end. There was nothing left for her to do but begin again. And as she looked at her daughter, Sophie came and put her arms around her, and the two women hugged without saying a word.

It was Teddy who had freed her from Gordon finally. Teddy who had taken her by the hand and led her away. Bill hadn't been able to do it, and he had left first. And she would never have had the courage to do it herself. But Teddy, in freeing himself of the earthly body that had been such torture to him, had finally freed his mother from the life that had tormented her. It was almost as though she could feel him next to her, happy about what he had done. After all she had done for him for fifteen years, it was his final gift to her. She was free at last.

Chapter 17

Gordon didn't return to the house on the rue de Grenelle for several days. Isabelle knew she could have found him if she wanted, but she didn't try. She had no reason to. They had nothing left to say, and she was sure he was with the Comtesse de Ligne.

Isabelle wandered around the house aimlessly for a while, absorbing all that had happened. She sat in Teddy's room for hours, and cried, and then suddenly smiled through her tears as she remembered things he had done or said. She seemed lost in another world. And by herself, late one night, she began to pack up his things. He had so little, as though he had only been passing through this world. He had books, puzzles, toys from his childhood, endless nightclothes, some religious articles the nurses had given him over the years. Isabelle sniffed his clothes and his pillow before she put them away. But in effect, he had very little. The only things that had really mattered to him were photographs he had of his mother and Sophie. And there was a very handsome one of Isabelle and Gordon on their wedding day. It was the only photograph of his father he'd ever had, or wanted.

She packed it all up, and stayed up until morning to do it, and by the time Sophie got up in the morning, it was done. There were neatly packed boxes stacked in his room. And when she was finished, Isabelle went back to her own bedroom and went to sleep.

She heard from Gordon finally late that afternoon. He wanted to know what her plans were.

“I haven't figured that out yet. I've been packing Teddy's things.”

“That's a morbid pursuit, why don't you have the nurses do it?” She had done it herself out of respect for the child she had loved so much. But Gordon couldn't understand that. He loved no one except himself, and never had. Isabelle couldn't imagine what his relationship was with Louise. She was sure it was based on her social importance, and her title. They were the same things that had once drawn him to Isabelle. But he couldn't tolerate the person, or the reality. He had no use for them. “You behaved abominably the other night,” he accused her, trying to intimidate her with his tone. She had heard it so often, it no longer impressed her. And what he had been so horrified by was that she dared to bring up his affair with Louise. It seemed amazing to him that she had finally discovered it after all these years. And when he'd asked Louise if she'd actually called his house on New Year's Eve when she missed her flight to Saint-Moritz, all of which he considered most unlikely, she had admitted that she probably had. It was an innocent mistake. But it had unraveled and exposed ten years of his carefully constructed lies. He hadn't dared complain to her about it.

“This has been an abominable situation for a long time,” Isabelle said simply, which was the truth. “I always thought that I had somehow failed you and that's why you were so cold to me. I thought it was my fault, because I was always so wrapped up in Teddy. But I finally understand it had nothing to do with me, or with him. You simply didn't want to be here.”

“It had everything to do with you,” he said. “If you'd taken the time to be a decent wife, it would never have happened.” He was admitting nothing to her, and blaming her for everything, which was typical of him.

“I have been a decent wife to you, Gordon. I was always here for you. I actually loved you in the beginning. You were the one who shut me out, who put walls up between us, who moved out of our bedroom and rejected me. But none of that had anything to do with me, and I think you know that.”

“You can't absolve yourself so easily. I would never have done any of those things if you had learned what you needed to in the beginning.”

He was the teacher, and she the pupil, and he wanted her to know she had failed the course abysmally. All her love and decency and heart counted for nothing with him. He didn't know or care who she was. That much was clear. She had done backward somersaults for him for years, while he shouted “higher,” “faster,” and it was never good enough for him. Once he had taken advantage of her background and connections, and had established himself, he had no further use for her. And she knew he would do the same thing to Louise. Once the world knew he had married a countess, and that she was a very rich and successful woman, and he had used her to his satisfaction, he could throw her away too. Isabelle could no longer imagine Gordon caring about anyone, not her, not his children, not even his mistress probably. He was narcissistic in the extreme.

“I think you've been brain-damaged ever since your accident,” he said coolly, and she suddenly saw the picture he was going to paint, that she had never been quite right after her coma, that she had always been a little odd, and had finally become severely disturbed after her son's death. It was the perfect excuse for disposing of her. It was like suddenly catching a glimpse of a deep dark cave, and seeing the monster who lived there. In the old days, it would have terrified her, but it no longer did. She wanted nothing to do with the monster anymore. “I expect you to move out quickly,” he said coldly. He had dispensed with her, and all he wanted was for her to disappear. It was so perfectly convenient. She served no purpose and had become a problem. And he wanted her removed. She had exposed him, and he couldn't tolerate that. She had shined a far too bright light on him, and refused to be fooled. She had been duped by him for far too long, but no more.

“I'll move out when I find an apartment, Gordon,” she said, sounding tired. She'd been up all the night before, packing Teddy's things. “You do realize, don't you, that if you throw me out in the street right after Teddy's death, that people are going to say ugly things about you.”

“I will tell them that you were crazed over his death, and ran away for reasons that are unclear to me, aggravated of course by your brain injury.” It was brilliant actually, and he'd worked it all out. She couldn't help wondering if he'd had help from Louise.

“You're assuming that people believe you, and I'm not sure they do. Some may, but anyone who knows me knows that I'm not la folk de Chaillot hiding away in the attic, I'm a woman you've lied to and cheated on and treated very badly. One day, people will see who you are, just as your children finally did. You can't fool people forever, not even me.” But his betrayal still felt like a terrible blow to her. And what he was doing now seemed almost worse, given the shock of Teddy's death. She had been abandoned by Bill, after five years, and now by Gordon, who had actually abandoned her emotionally years before, and Teddy had left her because he had no choice. But however Isabelle looked at it, they were hard hits for her. Very hard. And she knew, as she listened to him tell her how he would destroy her reputation, that she would never recover entirely from the betrayal of people she had once loved so passionately. It dissolved any faith she'd once had in life being fair, and things ending happily. There were no happy endings in her world. She didn't even expect them anymore. She just wanted peace.

“Move out when you want. Just let me know when you do. I called my lawyer today. He's going to draft settlement papers for you.” He had moved very quickly. She wondered if the Comte de Ligne was failing. Gordon seemed to be in a rush suddenly. And it would have been so perfect for him if she'd been willing to disappear to Grenoble. He could have said she was in a sanatorium, or had gone mad, or was suffering from depression. He could have said almost anything, as long as no one saw her anymore. But she had no intention of making things that easy for him. And she realized, as she listened to him, that she had to find an attorney. And then Gordon issued her yet another warning. “Be clear when you pack, Isabelle, that you can only take what's yours, whatever you brought to the marriage. The rest belongs to me.”

“That was my intention,” she said coldly. How quickly it was all reduced to what belonged to whom. All she wanted were her clothes, Teddy's things, some of her parents' paintings and antiques, and the few pieces of jewelry Gordon had given her. She never wanted to see the rest of it again, and she was only taking the jewelry so she could give it to Sophie. “I'll let you know when I find a place to live.”

She looked frantically for an apartment for the next few weeks, and it was easier once Sophie went back to school. Sophie was so distraught over everything that had happened, that Isabelle didn't want to upset her further. But in late September, Isabelle found a very suitable apartment for them on the rue de Varenne, not far from the house she and Gordon had shared on the rue de Grenelle. The apartment had two bedrooms, a large sunny living room, a small dining room, a somewhat antiquated kitchen and pantry, and a terrace overlooking the Musée Rodin. It was actually the third floor in an old hôtel particulier, there was garage space for one car in what had been the stables, and it was in fairly decent shape. The house itself had been elegant once, although like so many of the beautiful eighteenth-century houses on the Left Bank, the people who had owned it for generations had run out of money to maintain it long since. There was a tiny elevator that looked like a bird cage, high ceilings, beautiful but battered floors, and the landlords were an aristocratic family she had once met. It was a good neighborhood and a good address, and she knew she would feel safe there. And she knew she had just enough furniture from her parents to decorate it decently. She called Gordon's attorney once she signed the lease for the apartment, and told him she was going to move in two weeks. And then she called Sophie.

For Sophie, it seemed like a mixed blessing. She was happy her mother had found it, but it was going to be strange living somewhere else. She would stay at the rue de Grenelle when she visited her father, but with her mother and Teddy gone, it depressed her just thinking about it.

Isabelle had had the settlement papers from Gordon by then. He was offering her a small settlement, which in no way reflected the life they had shared for twenty-one years. And his attorney suggested she get a job, which she intended to do anyway, rather than ask Gordon for support. Everything in the offer they made was slanted toward him, and it was, in effect, an enormous slap in the face. In truth, she wanted nothing from him, and it confirmed everything she'd thought when she'd been afraid to leave him because of Teddy. He would have starved them to death if she left. She wanted very little from him now, just enough to cover her, in case something untoward happened to her or she got sick.

Her own lawyer was outraged by what he'd offered, and wanted her to fight for her fair share, and even try to win the house on the rue de Grenelle. But Isabelle knew it would be a hollow victory. As best she could, she wanted to walk away with a bare minimum to meet her needs, and nothing more. She wanted almost nothing from him.

She moved to the apartment on the rue de Varenne in mid-October, and was surprised by how pretty it looked once she got it fixed up a bit. And the only painful part of leaving her old house was leaving the rooms where she and Teddy had spent his entire life. But she knew that she was taking her memories with her, and with a last sad look over her shoulder, she walked out, as Josephine the housekeeper cried. Isabelle promised to have her come to visit at her new address.

And even Sophie was surprised the first time she came home for a weekend. It was the long All Saints' Day weekend, and she had four days off from school.

“It looks wonderful, Mom!” Sophie beamed when she saw her room. Isabelle had used some fabric she'd put away, it was all done in lavender silk with lilacs and violets on it. And she'd had the walls painted a warm ivory, with a thin line of lavender trim. It was a perfect room for a girl. She had done her own room in yellow, and the living room was filled with antiques that had been Isabelle's mother's, they were very fine pieces, mostly Louis XV and XVI. She had only been there for two weeks, and it already felt like home. In some ways, far more than the rue de Grenelle. It was hers.

Most of all, Isabelle was surprised by how easily she had adjusted to her new life. She didn't miss Gordon, the only one she missed incredibly was Teddy, her heart ached for him constantly. The new apartment had given her some distraction, but there was no hiding from the fact that he was gone. In some ways, it was easier being in a new place, she couldn't wander the halls that he had once walked, or sit in the room where she had sat with him for hours. And in spite of her new location, she had not only taken her grief for Teddy with her, her endless longing for Bill had followed her there as well. It was inconceivable to her that she would never see him again, and that, after five years of talking to her, advising her, comforting her, being her mentor and best friend, and finally lover, he had simply shut her out and left. It was the last thing she had ever expected of him, the only cruel thing he had ever done. In its own way, it was the cruelest of all. She knew it would take her a lifetime to forget him, if she ever did. And she couldn't imagine ever loving or trusting anyone again. In the end, it was not so much Gordon who had broken her heart and destroyed her faith, because she expected nothing of him anymore, and hadn't in years, but Bill had hurt her more, because she had truly loved and trusted him. But she knew it was something she had to live with, at whatever cost.

Two weeks after she had moved into the apartment, even before Sophie came home for the Toussaint, she saw a photograph of him in the Herald Tribune. The article talked about the upcoming elections in the States, and his part in an important senatorial race. It was very flattering to him, and she sat and stared at the photograph for a long time, and thought he looked well. She couldn't tell precisely, but it looked as though he were standing in a group of men, and the candidate whose cause he was championing was standing next to him. It even mentioned briefly that he had had a near-fatal car accident in London the year before and had made a remarkable recovery, and returned to politics stronger than ever. Although it didn't say he was walking or running marathons, the article seemed to support what Bill had said when he lied to her about being able to walk again. It sounded like he was perfectly fine and fully restored. In the end, after staring at it for two days and torturing herself over it, she threw the newspaper away.

Sophie had just gone back to school after the Toussaint weekend, when Isabelle saw Bill on CNN. He was at a Senate hearing in Washington, seated at a long table, addressing a committee on Senate appropriations. What they were saying sounded extremely technical and boring to her, but she was mesmerized the moment she saw his face. She'd been having a very bad day over Teddy, and finally gave up trying to cheer herself up. She'd gone to bed and turned on the TV to distract herself. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he talked and moved, made an impassioned speech, and then turned right toward the camera, as though he were speaking to her.

“You bastard,” she whispered softly. She wanted to wish him well with his renewed vows to Cynthia, but she couldn't. She was still too hurt by what he had done to her. She could still remember every word he had said to her when he had told her it was over between them. She hadn't deserved that, she had loved him so much, and they'd been so happy. She was agonizing, remembering all of it, when the camera pulled back at the end of the speech, and she saw someone wheel him away. Her mouth fell open as she watched it. He had told her the use of his legs had fully returned, and it was obvious from what she was seeing that he was still confined to a wheelchair. But why? Why would he tell her he could walk if he couldn't? What purpose could it possibly serve? And then as she watched him disappear off the screen with a wave to several people in the crowd, she remembered what he had said from the first. Already in London, he had hinted darkly that if he couldn't walk again, he wouldn't stay with her, so as not to be a burden on her. He had never spelled it out to her, but she had understood what he meant, and thought he was just depressed. She hadn't really believed him then, and thought he was dramatizing, but she suddenly wondered if he'd meant what he said. It was as though she could hear his words now, as clear as could be. She had never even thought about it, because he had been so clear that he was walking again. And suddenly she wondered if he had lied about everything else.

She sat in her bed for a long time, wondering what to do next, how to find out what had happened. She wanted to pick up the phone and ask him. But if he had wanted her to know the truth, he would have told her five months before, instead of lying to her. She was completely confused. She tossed back the covers and got out of bed, and began pacing her bedroom as the television droned on. She turned it off so she could think more clearly, and then looked at her watch. It was noon in Washington, and six o'clock at night in Paris. And then she had an idea, ran to the kitchen, and grabbed the phone.

She dialed Washington information and asked for the number of his office, and was instantly rewarded. She wasn't totally sure what to do next, but when a voice answered, sounding busy, she asked for Mr. Robinson's assistant, and a male voice came on the phone. She explained that Mr. Robinson had encouraged her to call for her committee on literacy in children in the Deep South, and she could hear the assistant pay attention to her. Isabelle knew that literacy all over America was of great importance to him, and he urged all his candidates to espouse it as a valuable cause.

“Of course,” the assistant said, validating Isabelle's idea.

“We were hoping that he and his wife would attend our event in December. We'd like his wife to be our honorary chair.” There was a brief pause while the assistant caught his breath and Isabelle regrouped, praying that she was right.

“I'm sure Mr. Robinson would like to. I'll check his calendar when you give me the date. But I'm afraid that… er … Mrs. Robinson won't be able to chair the event. Or actually, she might, but… well, they're divorced. In fact,” he sounded slightly embarrassed, “she's getting remarried next month. I'm sure she'd be very interested if you'd actually prefer to ask them. I can give you her number if you'd like to call her. Otherwise, I think Mr. Robinson would be interested in chairing your event, if you'll send me some material on it, and give me the date.”

“Absolutely. I'll get it out to you today.” Isabelle's hand was shaking as she held the phone and closed her eyes. He had lied to her about both things. He and Cynthia were not together, and he could not walk, and she felt certain now of what he had done. He had freed her, for her sake, out of some crazy lunatic idea he had that he owed that to her, because he loved her. Or maybe he didn't love her anymore … but two things were sure, he was no longer married to Cynthia, and he was still in a wheelchair.

“Thank you so much,” she breathed into the phone to his assistant.

“And what was that date again?”

“December twelfth.”

“I'll calendar that for you and let him know.”

“Thank you.”

“And your name? I'm sorry … I didn't catch it….” “No problem. Sally Jones.”

“Thank you, Miss Jones. Thank you for your call.”

She sat in her bed for a long time afterward, pondering what to do next. She just sat there, thinking about him, and ever more certain of what he had done and why. She felt as though everything had changed in the blink of an eye. But this time, instead of wanting to die as she had for the last five months, she felt alive again.

And at midnight, after thinking about it for hours, she knew what she had to do. She picked up the phone and called the airline, and made a reservation for the following afternoon. His elections were only four days away, and the timing was probably awful, but she couldn't wait. She booked a seat on the two o'clock flight the next day. And then she called Sophie and told her she was going to Washington for a few days.

“Why?” Sophie sounded surprised, but she was pleased. Her mother had been so lifeless, so sad, and so distraught for months, and especially after Teddy died, that it was a relief to know she was willing to go anywhere.

“I'm going to see an old friend,” Isabelle explained.

“Anyone I know?” Sophie asked, trying to figure it out. Her mother was acting a little crazy, and sounding strange. She sounded excited and happy and scared.

“Bill Robinson. We were in the accident together,” Isabelle said gently, and Sophie smiled at her end.

“I know, Mom. He was nice to me in London when I visited you in the hospital. He has two daughters and a nice wife.”

“That's about right.” Minus the wife.

“He liked you a lot,” Sophie said innocently, and Isabelle smiled.

“I like him too. I'll call and let you know where I am, and when I'm coming home. Okay? Take good care of yourself, sweetheart. I'll be back soon.”

“Don't rush back. I'm not coming home till Christmas. Have a good time.”

“Thank you,” Isabelle said, and hung up.

She couldn't sleep that night, and left for the airport the next morning at eleven o'clock. She had to be there at noon. And she could hardly contain herself on the flight. She had no idea how to see him, or what to say to him when she did. Maybe he'd be furious with her for finding him out and hunting him down. If he had wanted to be with her, she told herself, he would have been. He had made himself perfectly clear, she argued with herself all the way across the Atlantic. But he was wrong. That was the whole point. He was entirely, totally wrong. He didn't have to do that for her, didn't have to sacrifice himself. She didn't give a damn if he never walked again, except for his sake, but not for her own. All she could do now was find him, and tell him that. But she knew it would be no easy thing. He was a very stubborn man. She remembered all too vividly his many objections to Joe marrying Jane.

As the plane landed at Dulles Airport, Isabelle closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that he would listen to her. She had no idea if he would. But she was going to give it one hell of a try.

She had his office address in her pocket, and trembling in the chill air, she stepped into a cab, and gave the driver the address of the Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown, where she'd made a reservation the night before. All she had to do now was find out where he was.

Chapter 18

It was nearly four o'clock when Isabelle settled into her room at the hotel. And she knew she had to call his office soon if she was going to find out where he was going that night. Or maybe she should just walk in on him in the office. Maybe she was totally crazy to have come. There were a thousand scenarios in her head, and she had no idea how any of them would work out. And as she stared at the phone, she was beginning to think she'd made a terrible mistake. Maybe he had just fallen out of love with her. Finally, after another half hour of total terror, she picked up the phone.

A receptionist answered, and Isabelle made herself sound busy, crazed, and stressed.

“Hi, I'm with security for tonight. What time will Mr. Robinson arrive?” She forced herself to sound American, so the woman wouldn't know she was French.

“God, I don't know,” the girl said, sounding even more stressed than Isabelle could pretend. “They're going to six different events. Who is this again?”

“Security. You know, for the dinner.”

“Oh, of course … damn … I thought he canceled that… no, that's right… okay … he's coming to you at nine o'clock … he's sorry to be late, but he just can't get there any sooner. You'll be his fourth event. And he can't stay long … now, you know he's in a wheelchair, right?”

“Right. I've got that in my notes,” Isabelle said, sounding official and informed.

“You need to take away the chair at the table so he can wheel himself in. He doesn't like to make a fuss. And he doesn't want to be photographed in the chair. Very low profile. He and Senator Johnson want to come in a side door, and they'll leave the same way.”

“Right,” Isabelle said, but she still didn't know where the dinner was and she couldn't ask.

“Senator Johnson has his own security, and they'll meet you at the side entrance of the Kennedy Center just like last time….” Thank you, God, Isabelle whispered to herself. The Kennedy Center.

“Will he be in black tie? … just so we see him right away …” She needed to know what to wear.

“No, he's very sorry … he won't… I'm sure that's all right.”

“It's fine.”

They went over the details for another ten minutes, and Isabelle no longer cared what the receptionist said. All she needed to know was that he'd be at the Kennedy Center at nine o'clock that night. And he would be leaving at ten o'clock for his next event. She could either confront him on the way in, or the way out, or she could make a scene at dinner, hide under his table, or pull a gun on him … the possibilities were endless, and most of them sounded absolutely hopeless to her now that she was here. She had no idea how to do this, but she knew she had to try.

In the end, she decided to meet him outside, after the dinner, on his way out. That would mean ten o'clock. It was six hours away. The longest six hours of her life. She called the concierge and hired a limousine for that night. And after that she sat in her room worrying about what she was going to say to him, or if he'd even give her a chance to speak. It was a distinct possibility that he would just brush her off and tell her there was nothing to say. It was Bill who had said that he never wanted to see her again, but he had lied to her. He had told her he could walk and that he and Cindy had renewed their vows. She hadn't been able to understand for five months how he could just sever all ties with her like that. But now she understood perfectly. It was all about not being a burden on her. That was why he hadn't wanted to see her in Paris, she realized, because he didn't want her to know that he still couldn't walk, and never would. She had figured it all out. What she hadn't figured out was how to convince him to change his mind. And she knew she'd only have minutes with him, with the senator standing by, before he got in a car and drove away. She had no idea what she was going to say. I love you was a start, but he knew that anyway, and had when he ended their affair, and it hadn't stopped him then. Why would it now?

There was so much he didn't know, about Teddy, that she had left Gordon and moved out. He didn't know that he'd broken her heart when he left. And most of all, he didn't know that she didn't care that he was in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. All she wanted was to be with him, and love him for as long as he lived.

As she sat there, thinking about him, she began to wonder if it was a mistake trying to see him that night. Maybe she should try and see him in the office, or call him on the phone. She knew he must be crazed, with the election only three days away. She could wait until afterward, she told herself, but he might leave town, or disappear. She didn't want to wait. They had waited long enough.

She couldn't eat that night, she tried to take a nap and was wide awake. In the end, she took a bath and dressed, and at nine-thirty she was in the limousine, speeding toward the Kennedy Center, and then panicked when they reached the side entrance. What if he had already left? She was numb with worry by the time she got out of the car, and went to stand off to the side, where she could watch the entrance, and see him when he came out. It was freezing cold, but she didn't care, and then like some kind of terrifying omen, it started to snow.

Big lacy flakes began drifting down from the sky. They were the kind that stick to your clothes and your lashes and your hair. They came with no warning, and there was a brisk wind that seemed to blow them everywhere. By ten-fifteen there was no sign of him, and she was sure he had left by some other door. Maybe there had been a change of plan. Isabelle was wearing a big heavy black coat and a sable hat, warm black suede boots, and gloves. She was still freezing cold anyway, and covered with snow.

By ten-thirty, she had lost hope. She knew she would have to find some other way and try again. She'd have to attempt some other ploy the next day. She told herself she'd stay until eleven o'clock, just so she could tell herself she had, but she was sure that Bill and the senator would be long gone by then, to their next event.

But at ten to eleven, there was a flurry of activity near the door. Two off-duty policemen came out, looking fairly obvious, a uniformed security man with a wire in his ear, and then a good-looking man with his head down against the wind who strode out of the building and headed toward a waiting car that had appeared from nowhere. Isabelle hadn't seen it before. He looked vaguely like the senator to her, but she wasn't sure from the angle of his face. She watched him for a moment, and no one else came out. She was wondering if Bill hadn't come at all, or had decided to stay. And as she watched, she saw a wheelchair roll slowly out. There were people talking intently to him, and he was nodding, listening to what they said. He was wheeling the chair himself. He was wearing a thick scarf and a dark coat, and she saw instantly that it was Bill. She could feel her heart pound as she watched him wheel himself toward the steps, and then take a ramp down toward where she stood. He hadn't noticed her, and the others left him and ran back inside to escape the snow. The senator and his men were already in the limousine, and they were waiting for him.

And feeling as though she were taking her life in her hands, she walked to the ramp, and began walking up to where he was. She met him halfway, standing squarely in his path. His head was down against the wind, and all he saw were her coat and her legs, and he muttered “excuse me” absentmindedly, but she didn't move away.

Isabelle looked at him, and he heard her voice before he saw her face. “You lied to me,” she said in the voice he had dreamed of for five months, and told himself he would never hear again. His eyes rose to hers, and he couldn't say a word. He just looked at her, stunned, and tried to regain his composure as quickly as he could.

“Hello, Isabelle. What a coincidence to see you here.” He assumed instantly that Gordon had come to town on business and she had accompanied him. He made no explanation as to why he was in the wheelchair, in spite of what he'd told her months before.

“Actually, it's not a coincidence,” she said honestly. It was far too late for more lies. “I flew here from Paris to see you.” He didn't know how to answer her, as the wind whipped their faces, and the snow collected on her hat. She looked like a Christmas card, or a Russian princess to him. She looked so beautiful, it broke his heart, but nothing showed in his face. He forced himself to look dispassionate and unconcerned, and to hide everything he felt. He had become a master of that.

“I have to go. Cynthia is waiting in the car for me.” It was the only excuse he could think of for a rapid escape. He knew he needed to get away from her as quickly as he could, before he lost his resolve.

“No, she's not,” Isabelle said, pulling her coat tightly around herself. “You're divorced. You lied about that too.”

“I guess I lied about a number of things. Except that it was over for me. That part was true.” Everything about him resisted her, but his eyes gave him away.

“Why was it over for you?” She was relentless in her pursuit of the truth, and if he could tell her he didn't love her, she would walk away forever. But she had had to see him this one last time. She had taken this chance when she came. But if he was going to send her away again, she at least wanted him to look her in the eye.

“It happens that way sometimes. How's Teddy?” he asked, to break the tension between them, and put her off the scent, but he wasn't prepared for what came next.

“He died three months ago. He caught a very bad flu. I'm sorry you never met him,” she said sadly, fighting to keep her composure. She had no intention of burdening him with her grief, but she thought he should know.

“I'm sorry too,” he said softly, looking stricken for her. For a moment, he was overwhelmed by the blow he knew it must have been for her, and his own guilt for not being there for her at the time. “Are you all right?” He wanted to reach out to her, and put his arms around her, but he didn't dare. It was embarrassing too to have been caught in his lies, and to have her see him in his chair. He had been so convinced their paths would never cross again, and she would never know.

“Not yet, but I will be eventually. I miss him a lot. I miss you too.” Her voice was soft and sad. “How are you?” She wanted to ask if he missed her, if he regretted what he'd done, but he seemed anxious to move on. She knew that the senator was waiting for him. But this was her only chance.

“I'm fine. Better than ever. I'm back at work. The election is three days away.” He glanced at his watch then. They were an hour late for their next stop, and he looked at Isabelle apologetically, but there was no sign that he wanted anything from her. “I've really got to go.”

“I still love you, Bill,” she said, feeling desperately vulnerable, but this was why she had come. She wanted him to know. “I don't give a damn that you can't rollerblade or dance. I'm not a great dancer anyway, I never was.”

He smiled at her nostalgically for what seemed like an eternity, and then reached out and touched her hand. “Are you serious that you came here to see me?” His voice was gentle, it was the voice she remembered too well, and had for a long time. All she could do was nod as tears filled her eyes, and then she recovered, as a few stray tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away with a gloved hand.

“I saw you on CNN yesterday, and I thought I knew why you lied to me. I wanted you to know I don't care.”

“I know you don't,” he said softly, “you never did. But I do. That's what matters. I would never let you do that to yourself. I love you too much to let you destroy your life by being saddled with this,” he glanced down at his chair. “Even if you left Gordon one day, especially then. Is he treating you decently?” He had looked around for him at first, and realized he wasn't there. She had obviously eluded him somehow, or left him at the hotel.

She smiled at his question. “I used the ammunition on him, as you told me to, when Teddy died. He threw me out. Sophie and I have an apartment on the rue de Varenne.” A great many changes had happened in both their lives. But it didn't change the way he felt, or the decision he'd made. In fact, seeing her strengthened it. She was free now, and she deserved a lot more than he had to give, or so he thought.

“I'm glad you're okay.” But he refused to say more.

“I know you have to go,” she said, brushing the snowflakes away from her eyes, “I'm at the Four Seasons Hotel. If you'd like to talk, give me a call.”

All he did was shake his head. There were snow-flakes all over his hair, and she realized he must be cold. “I won't call you, Isabelle. We did the right thing five months ago. I did the right thing. For both of us. We have to live by it now.”

“I don't agree with you, it was entirely the wrong thing. For both of us. We have a right to love each other, Bill. And even if you stay out of my life, I won't stop loving you. I never will.”

“You'll forget eventually,” he said, and she shook her head and stepped aside. He looked at her long and hard. “Take good care of yourself.” He wanted to tell her again he was sorry about Teddy, but he didn't. There was nothing more he could say. He just wheeled himself the rest of the way down the ramp, without looking back at her, and got into the car. He apologized to the senator for the delay, and said he had run into an old friend. He didn't say another word all the way to their next stop, and the senator sensed the somberness of his mood. He seemed a million miles away.

It was after midnight when Bill got home, and he didn't call her. It was too late, and he had told himself again that he never would. He believed in what he'd done for her and knew it was the loving thing to do. If he had loved her any less, he would have inflicted himself on her, but he loved her far too much to do that, and knew he always would. He was heartbroken for her about her boy, he knew how much Teddy had meant to her, and he could only imagine how devastating his death had been to her. He was relieved at least to know that Gordon was out of her life. He felt certain she'd find someone else soon. He had never seen her look as beautiful, or as sad, as she had standing there in the snow. It was all he could think of as he lay in his bed that night.

The snow was still falling as Isabelle sat in her hotel room and thought of him. And she knew now that he would never call her again. Everything she had seen in his face had spoken of his resolve not to get involved with her again. Only his eyes told her he still cared. She had to accept it now. Even if he had lied to her, this was what he wanted in the end. She had been right months before, there were no happy endings. There were only lessons and losses, and she had had a lot of those.

She was awake most of the night, and when she fell asleep at last, she was dreaming of him. She was in a deep sleep when the phone rang at her bedside at four A.M. It was Bill. Even wrapped in the mists of sleep, she would have known his voice anywhere.

“I'm sorry to call you so late. Were you asleep?” He sounded as tormented as she had felt before she finally went to sleep.

“Just.” She was wide awake the moment she heard his voice. He sounded so agonizingly familiar to her, and then she thought of something. “Where are you?” she asked softly, and heard him hesitate.

“Downstairs. In the lobby of your hotel. I'm as crazy as you are, but I didn't know when you were leaving, and I have to be in New York tomorrow. I thought if you really came all the way from Paris, maybe we should talk.” The insanity of the hour didn't seem to bother either of them.

“I'm glad you're here. Why don'tyou come upstairs?”

She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, and splashed some water on her face while she waited for him to come up. Five minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Bill was looking at her from his chair, and wheeled slowly in as she held the door open for him, and then closed it softly behind him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't dare.

“I'm sorry to come here at this hour, Isabelle. I couldn't sleep. It was a shock seeing you there tonight. And kind of a crazy thing for you to do.” But he didn't look unhappy about it, he was touched, but upset about it too. It had awakened a myriad of barely sleeping feelings that he had spent months trying to flee. And then seeing her there outside the Kennedy Center in the snow brought it all back to him. “I'm so sorry about Teddy. What happened?”

She sat down on the couch facing him, and told him briefly about her son's final days. There was a catch in her voice as she talked about it, and her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and then she brushed away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. Without thinking, he held out a hand and touched hers.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled through her tears. “Me too. Other people say it's a mercy for him, and I suppose it is, but he had some happy moments too. And I miss him so much. I never realized how much of my life revolved around him. I don't know what to do with myself now that he's gone, and Sophie is away at school.”

“It'll take time to adjust. You'll get used to it. It's an enormous change for you.” Everything had changed about her life, her home, the divorce, the death of her son, losing Bill. She had done nothing but face agonizing changes in the past year. And so had he. “I don't know what to say to you,” Bill said, looking unhappy. “I never thought we'd see each other again. I didn't think we should. I didn't think I had a right to ruin your life, Isabelle. You deserve so much more than I can offer. You need someone wonderful in your life, someone whole … not someone like me.”

“You are whole,” she said softly, her eyes riveted to him. She wasn't sure yet what he was saying to her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. It sounded like good-bye again, or more excuses about why he couldn't be with her. But at least they weren't lies this time, only what he perceived as the truth, however distorted it may be.

“We both know that's not the case.” He didn't want to remind her of their disastrous attempt to make love in the hospital in London. And unlike his son-in-law, he felt his handicaps presented too big an obstacle to overcome to marry her. And he didn't want to offer her less than that. He was convinced he had nothing to give that would be fair or reasonable for her. He vaguely remembered everything Helena had once told him, but she was young and idealistic too. Maybe love was only for the young. In any case, he had come to the hotel that night to see her, and explain things, and say good-bye to her decently. He at least owed her that, he had told himself before coming to the Four Seasons. He knew that the way he had left her before had been inordinately cruel. And she didn't deserve that either, particularly now after losing Teddy too. “I just wanted to say good-bye to you, and tell you I'm sorry. I never should have encouraged you to go to London. I feel like it was all my fault right from the beginning.”

“You gave me the only real love I've ever had from a man,” she said gently. “That's not something you owe me an apology for, Bill.”

“I'm sorry I can't be more than I am….” There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her and held her hand. “I'm sorry about all this,” he said sadly, and with that, she leaned forward and kissed him as he sat in his chair, and he gently pulled her toward him, and she sat on his lap as he kissed her. Their kisses were filled with tenderness and passion, and the memory of all they had hoped for, barely tasted, and lost too soon. And as he held her, for an instant he forgot his lost manhood, and felt desire race through him like a tide that could not be turned back, and neither of them had any inclination to. The force of what they felt for each other was irresistible and overwhelmed them both. And suddenly, for one single shining instant, he was no longer afraid. They kissed for a long time, and they were both breathless when he pulled away from her, and without explaining it, or saying anything to each other, she helped him onto the couch, and gently took off his clothes, as he slipped the satin nightgown off her shoulders and it fell to the floor.

For the merest moment he hesitated, but he couldn't stop himself this time. With every ounce of his body and soul, he was starving for her. And this time, there was no question about what happened. He couldn't remember ever making love to anyone like Isabelle, or wanting any woman more. It was everything they had both dreamed of and hoped for, and the kind of longing and openness and passion he had never experienced before in his life. Not even before the accident, or in his youth. There was no one in the world like her. She made him feel like a man again, and they were both overcome by desire.

And afterward, he lay with his arms around her and smiled. His worst fears had vanished, swept away by her tenderness and love. Everything that had just happened between them was better than either of them could have imagined. It was obvious that whatever had remained of his injuries before had been healed. Even if he could not walk, he felt whole, and was.

“Wow!” she said softly afterward as she clung to him, and he smiled. He felt like a boy again in her arms. “That was amazing.”

“So are you.” But after she wheeled him into the bathroom an hour later and left him there, and he emerged fully dressed forty minutes later, she saw a look in his eyes that worried her.

“It was crazy of me to come here,” he said somberly, already in the clutches of guilt and the throes of his own fears. “I shouldn't have done that.” He didn't want to mislead her or give her false hope. He still was adamant that she deserved a better life than he could give her, and making love to her would only complicate things for both of them. He had spent half an hour in the shower, agonizing, and berating himself, but also immensely relieved about what he had shared with her. His legs were gone forever, but his manhood had returned full force.

“I don't see why we shouldn't have done that,” Isabelle said calmly. “We're both adults, we're free. You're divorced, and I nearly am. My divorce will be final in a few months. We don't have young children who might object. We don't have to create problems that don't exist. Life is complicated enough without making it worse. And,” she said seriously, looking into his eyes, “life is precious and short. We could have died together in London, or worse, one of us. We didn't. Perhaps we should not waste the blessing that was bestowed on us.”

“I'm not a blessing, Isabelle,” he said with a look of determination. “Life with a man in a wheelchair is not a blessing, by any means.”

“Life between two people who love each other is.” They had been to hell and back, and Isabelle felt they had a right to a small piece of Heaven together, however unusual it may be. She loved him, just as he was, without hesitation or reservation, and was more than willing to stand beside him for the rest of her life, and wanted to.

“I can't let you do this to yourself, Isabelle,” he said firmly. “I won't do it. No matter what just happened here. I shouldn't have let that happen. It was stupid and irresponsible of me.”

“And human. Do you ever leave yourself room for that? Can't you just let yourself be happy once in a while and not beat yourself to death?” He smiled at what she said, knowing that some of it, if not all, was true. “Why do you have to make this difficult, when it isn't, and doesn't need to be? We love each other. Can't you just let that be enough?” She was making a lot more sense than he.

“Sometimes love isn't enough. You don't know what you'd be getting into, Isabelle.”

“Yes, I do,” she argued with him. It was nearly six o'clock in the morning, and she knew he had to leave soon. “I spent fifteen years taking care of Teddy. I know what caring for and loving someone truly sick means. You're not sick. You're strong and healthy and whole. You can't walk. That makes no difference to me. I wouldn't have cared if you couldn't make love again. That's a lovely bonus, but I would have been willing to live without that too. What we have together means more than that to me.”

“I wouldn't have let you,” he said firmly, beginning to look grim. “But I can't let you take this on either. I'm not willing to. I came here to say good-bye to you, and that's what we have to do.”

“That's so stupid, and such a waste. I won't let you do that.”

“You have no choice. I won't see you again.” And they both knew he was capable of it.

“And then what? You condemn us both to be lonely for the rest of our lives, to think of what we had and lost, and could have had if you weren't so stubborn? To what end? Where is the victory here? Do they give us rewards in Heaven for punishing ourselves and each other, for depriving ourselves? All right, maybe it won't always be easy. It will not be ‘perfect.’ But nothing in life is. And as far as I can see, this is as perfect as it gets, what we have between us. Why can't you just let us have what we deserve and want? You've been punished enough, how much more misery do you have to inflict on yourself, and on me? I've lost enough in my life, so have you. For God's sake, be sensible….” Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she looked at him, but he was unmoved.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, kissed the top of her head, and then wheeled himself to the door and turned around to look at her.

“Why did you do this?” She was crying as she asked him. “What was the point? Just to torture both of us? To remind us both of how much we love each other and take it all away again, so we can live in darkness and sorrow forever? Why, when we are so happy together and love each other so much? Why can't you let us have that? Is that so hard for you?”

“Maybe I don't love you enough,” he said sadly, “or myself, and maybe you wouldn't be able to love me as much as you think.”

“Don't make it so complicated. It isn't. I love you. That's all that matters. And however much you love me, that's enough for me.”

“I am not enough for you, that's the whole point,” he said, looking agonized from the doorway, wanting to come back and hold her in his arms again, but he wouldn't allow himself to.

“Let me decide that. Let me be the judge of who I love, and who I don't. You don't have the right to make that decision for me.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, looking at her one last time, and wheeled out of her room. The door slammed behind him a second later, and Isabelle sat crying on the couch, and didn't move.

Chapter 19

Isabelle stayed in Washington for four days. The senator won the election, and she was pleased for Bill. She saw him on the news sitting in his wheelchair off to the side, the power behind the scenes. He never called her, and she didn't call him again. She believed him now. And she knew that, no matter how wrong she thought he was, she had to respect how he felt. It was hard to believe he was willing to be so stubborn and sacrifice everything they had. But he seemed willing to give up all that he could have had with her. It broke her heart to accept it, but she couldn't force him to come back to her. She had to accept the choice he'd made, no matter how much she disagreed with him. It was his right, just as it was hers to believe that they could have had a wonderful life. She would have been proud to be with him, wheelchair or not. It made no difference to her, but it did to him. It was his right to live as he chose.

She called Sophie on Tuesday night after the election, and told her she was coming home. Isabelle sounded sad, and Sophie didn't ask why. They had more than enough reason to these days. Sophie had struggled with her brother's loss, nearly as much as her mother had.

“Did you see your friend?” she asked, trying to cheer her up.

“Yes, I did,” Isabelle said quietly. “He looks great.”

“Is he walking again?”

“No.”

“I didn't think he would. He was in pretty bad shape when I saw him at the hospital, but so were you.”

“He seems fine in every other way. I'll be home tomorrow night, sweetheart. If you need me.” She liked Sophie knowing where she was at all times. It was a hangover of her years of being constantly responsible for Teddy, and the truth was, Sophie didn't really need to know where her mother was every minute, but it made them both feel secure. “I'll see you in a few weeks.”

“I'll call you this weekend, Mom. Did you have fun?” Sophie hoped she had, but her mother sounded very subdued.

“Not really,” Isabelle said honestly, “but I'm glad I came.” It had forced her to accept what she hadn't been able to in all this time. And she had gone to some museums and galleries. She was planning to go back to work restoring paintings at the Louvre after the first of the year, and she was steeping herself in art again. It had reminded her of her days in London with him more than a year before. Everything reminded her of Bill. Paintings, museums, Harry's Bar, dancing, music, laughter, air. Maybe it would finally stop one day. She hoped it would. If he wasn't going to be in her life again, she had to forget him as soon as she could. Maybe she'd even stop loving him one day. It would be a mercy for her when she did.

On Wednesday morning she packed the few things she'd brought, and called the bellman to collect her bag. Her flight was at one o'clock, and she left the hotel at ten. And as she closed the door to her room, the telephone rang. It took her a minute to unlock the door again, and when she got there, it had stopped. And when she checked out, the desk clerk told her he had just called to ask what time she was leaving the room. They already had someone waiting for it.

The ride to the airport was quiet and long. It had snowed again the night before, and Washington looked beautiful under a blanket of snow. She checked in for her flight, and after a while, went to buy some magazines and a book, so she'd have something to read on the plane. She felt quiet and sad, and free in a way. She had let him go at last, and she was glad she had come. She hadn't expected to feel as peaceful about it as she did. And she forced herself not to think about him as she paid for her magazines and books. She was thanking the woman for her change, when she heard a voice directly behind her.

“You know you're crazy, don't you? I always knew you were.” She closed her eyes, this couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible. But it was, and when she turned, she was looking at Bill. “You're not only crazy, but you're wrong,” he said quietly. He looked so familiar and powerful just sitting there, she smiled in spite of herself.

“Are you following me, or leaving on a trip?” Her heart pounded just seeing him again. She didn't know if it was coincidence or a miracle, and she didn't dare ask him which.

“I called you at the hotel, but you'd left.”

“That's funny, I must have missed your call,” she said, trying to look nonchalant. Her hands were shaking as she clutched the magazines and books she'd just bought. “The desk clerk said he'd called about the room.”

“I must have called right after he did.” She assumed he had called to say good-bye, but why was he here? “I know I did the right thing,” he said, moving his chair out of the way, as she stood facing him. People were eddying around them, but neither of them seemed to care. Their eyes were riveted to each other, and Isabelle looked pale. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days. “You deserve better than this.”

“I know that's what you think,” she said, feeling her heart ache again. How many times was he going to tell her the same thing? “But there isn't better than this. This is as good as it gets … or at least it is for me. I lost Teddy. I lost you. I've got nothing to lose anymore, except Sophie. I don't think you walk away from love. Or one shouldn't anyway. It's too precious and too rare. But apparently you do.” She knew there was nothing she could do to convince him or change his mind. He was going to think what he wanted to. And so was she.

“I want better than this for you. I want you to have a real life with a guy who can chase you around the room, and dance with you on New Year's Eve.”

“I want a lot more than that. I want someone I love and who loves me, someone I can respect and take care of and laugh with for the rest of my life. I can love just as easily sitting down as standing up. Maybe you can't,” she said, accepting the fate he had chosen for both of them.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Would you love me if I were sitting there instead of you?” There were tears in her eyes, and her voice was soft, as he nodded and didn't say anything. And then he answered her, and finally understood.

“Yes, I would.”

“You must not think much of me if you think I can't too.”

He didn't say a word to her, he just pulled her down on his lap and looked at her, put his arms around her, and kissed her on the mouth, and she was breathless when he stopped.

“Why did you do that?” she had to ask. “Was that hello or good-bye?”

“You choose. You know what I think. I love you. You have a right to make up your own mind.” Helena had told him that so long ago, and she had been right, he had finally figured out. He had tried to protect Isabelle, but he couldn't anymore. She had a right to choose her own fate, and this time maybe even his.

Isabelle smiled at him, and whispered “hello” as she kissed him and he held her tight.

ABOUT THE AUTHORDANIELLE STEEL has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 490 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include: Sunset in St. Tropez, The Cottage, Leap of Faith, Lone Eagle, Journey, The House on Hope Street, The Wedding, Irresistible Forces, Granny Dan, Bittersweet, Mirror Image, The Klone and I, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death.

a cognizant original v5 release october 14 2010

Published by

Dell Publishing

a division of

Random House, Inc. 1540 Broadway

New York, New York 10036

Copyright © 2001 by Danielle Steel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press, New York, N.Y

Dell® is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00-066009

eISBN: 978-0-307-56693-5

v3.0

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

ABOUT THE AUTHOR