The Kiss

by Danielle Steel

  “I'll call home then. I have to ask Mom something.”

  “She can't talk to you,” he said cryptically, dreading this moment. It was a nightmare from which he could not wake. Instead he had to pull his children into it with him.

  “Why not? Is she out?”

  “No, your mother is in London.”

  “That's funny. She stayed?” It was unlike her mother to leave Teddy at all, let alone for six days. Sophie knew her mother had gone to London on Tuesday. “When is she coming back?” She sounded confused.

  “We don't know yet.” He took a final breath then and dove in. “Sophie, your mother had an accident.” There was dead silence at the other end of the phone, as she waited, and her heart was pounding. Something about the way he said it was terrifying. “A very serious accident. I think you should come home.”

  “What happened? Is she all right?” She was so breathless, she could hardly squeeze out the words.

  “She was in a car that was in an accident with a bus.” There was no avoiding the truth now. “She's in a coma. They don't know what's going to happen. She has very serious internal injuries. She may not survive. I'm sorry to tell you on the phone. But I want you to make arrangements to come back to Paris as soon as possible.” In spite of his feelings for Sophie, and allegedly for Isabelle, he sounded as though he were planning a business meeting. Gordon was doing everything he could not to feel his daughter's pain. It was an indulgence he could not allow himself.

  “Oh my God … oh my God …” Sophie sounded on the verge of hysterics, which was unlike her. She was normally cool and calm and sensible and relatively unemotional, like her father. But what he had just said to her exceeded her worst nightmares. All her life she had been preparing to lose her brother, but never her mother, whom she loved more than she'd ever wanted to admit to herself. This had been the farthest thing from her mind when her father called her. “Oh my God, Daddy, do you think she'll die?” He could hear that Sophie was crying, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.

  “It's possible,” he said, looking uncomfortable as he sat in his office staring into space. He was thinking back to when his own mother had died, and doing all he could to push the memories away. “It's a hopeful sign that she's still alive, but she's in very critical condition, and there's been no improvement,” he said honestly as Sophie cried harder, and could not stop sobbing while he waited, and he could think of nothing to say to reassure her. He didn't want to lie to her and hold out false hopes, and the truth was that Isabelle could die at any moment. Sophie had to face that, as would Teddy.

  And then she thought of something with a ripple of fear. “Does Teddy know?” He had sounded fine on the weekend, and he had never lied to her before. Sophie couldn't imagine Teddy keeping that kind of secret from her, or sounding as cheerful as he had when she called.

  “No, he doesn't know. I want to wait and tell him when you get home. I think you should get off the phone now and make the arrangements. Can someone there help you?”

  “I don't know,” she said, sounding disoriented. “I want to go to London to see Mommy.” She sounded like a five-year-old, and suddenly felt like an orphan.

  “I want you to come home first,” he said firmly. He wanted her with him when he told Teddy. He did not intend to shoulder that burden alone.

  “All right,” she said, still crying uncontrollably.

  “Call me when you know when you're arriving. I'll have someone pick you up.” It never dawned on him to do it himself, even under these circumstances. Being distant and aloof was so natural to him that he found it impossible to break through his walls, even for his daughter, but she had always known that about him. They all did, although she was the closest to him.

  “I'll try to come home tonight,” she said, sounding distracted. She was two hours from Lisbon, but she might be able to catch a late flight out, if she hurried. Otherwise, she'd have to wait till the next morning.

  They hung up a moment later, and Gordon had his driver take him back to the house. It was the first he had seen of Teddy in four days, and the boy seemed in good spirits, but he asked for his mother the moment he saw Gordon in the doorway of his room.

  “Where's Mom? Is she downstairs?” His eyes filled with light as he said her name.

  “No, she's not,” Gordon said vaguely, trying to stall him by looking austere. “I think Sophie's coming back from Portugal tonight.”

  “She is?” The boy looked surprised, but the diversion had worked, for an instant. “Mommy said Sophie would be gone for two weeks. Why is she coming back early?” She hadn't mentioned it on the phone on Saturday, and instinctively he sensed something. And then, like a dog returning to a bone, he asked the same question again. “Where's Mom?” Gordon didn't dare tell him she was still in London, he'd know something was wrong. Teddy was too bright and sensitive to fool for long. All Gordon could hope was that Sophie would be home soon to help him tell the boy.

  “I'll see you in a little while,” Gordon said, without answering him. “I have to make some calls.” And with that, he left Teddy's room and disappeared. But it was obvious that his son was worried. Gordon looked grim as he strode down the hall to his own room.

  “Where's my mother?” Gordon heard him ask the nurse, as he closed the door. It was going to be a long night until Sophie got home. He decided to solve the problem by staying downstairs, in the library, and was stunned an hour later, when he looked up and saw Teddy walk slowly into the room. He had insisted on coming downstairs himself, and the nurse had been unable to stop him. He looked agitated and very pale.

  “Something's wrong,” Teddy said quietly, leaning breathlessly against a chair as he looked his father in the eye. Gordon had been dismissive of him all his life, but this time he was not going to be put off. He had a determined look that reminded Gordon of Isabelle. He had never seen Teddy look that way before. And for the first time, he noticed that Teddy no longer looked like a child. “I want to know where my mother is,” he said as he sat down. He was prepared to wait all night, if he had to, for an answer. They would have had to drag or carry him from the room.

  Gordon looked irritated to cover his own fright. The boy had always made him uncomfortable, he was so ephemeral and so frail, but he was looking better than he had in a long time. Six months before he would have been unable to come downstairs. But there was no avoiding him now, as Gordon sighed.

  “Your mother is in London,” he said honestly, and prayed he wouldn't have to say more. But that was almost too much to hope for as he met his son's eyes.

  “Why?”

  “She went there to see an art exhibit,” Gordon said, looking away, and trying to will him into silence.

  “I know. That was six days ago. Why didn't she come back with you?” With that, Gordon raised his eyes and felt as though he were seeing his son for the first time. He had spent a lifetime shutting him out and trying to resist him. And now he couldn't avoid Teddy's intense gaze.

  He was a beautiful boy, but everything had always been wrong with him. And his infirmities had terrified his father. And now, in spite of himself, seeing the look of anguish in Teddy's eyes touched Gordon. He couldn't put off telling him the truth anymore, but he didn't want to be responsible for impacting his health. Teddy's existence always seemed to hang by a thread, and Gordon didn't want to be the one to sever his lifeline with disastrous news about the mother he adored.

  “She had an accident,” Gordon said in a low voice, and he could hear Teddy catch his breath, without looking at him. He couldn't bear the sight of what he knew he would see in the boy's eyes.

  “Is she all right?” Teddy's voice was the merest whisper. He already knew something was wrong, but was terrified of what his father would say to him.

  “She will be all right, I hope. We don't know yet. She's very ill. I'm sorry,” Gordon said stiffly, but at least Teddy didn't cry. He just sat there breathing carefully and watching his father, as he waited for more.

  “You can't le
t her die,” he said in a whisper, as though Gordon had some power to change it.

  “It's not in my control. You know I don't want anything to happen to her.” But the look in Teddy's eyes spoke volumes. He knew too much about his mother's unhappiness, although she had never explained it to him. It was the second time in two days that someone had accused Gordon of being unkind to Isabelle, and he didn't like it.

  “Is that why Sophie is coming home?” Teddy asked, and Gordon nodded. He sat across the room from the boy. It never dawned on him to walk across the room and put his arms around him. It would have been totally foreign to him to do anything like that, unlike Isabelle, who would have been holding Teddy close to her then, if Gordon had had the accident instead. Even Gordon knew that. “I want to go to London with Sophie, or with you,” Teddy said with a determined look. “When are you going back?” He was sure he would. He couldn't bear the thought of his mother being there alone.

  “I don't know,” Gordon said honestly. “I thought I should come home to you.” Teddy didn't acknowledge what he said. He was still trying to absorb and assimilate what his father had just told him. Gordon was stunned and impressed that the boy wasn't crying. Teddy was braver than he'd thought.

  “I want to talk to her. Can we call her now?” Teddy asked, and his father shook his head.

  “No, we can't. She's been unconscious since the accident. She's in a coma, from a blow to her head.”

  “Oh, no!” Teddy said, suddenly envisioning her as desperately injured as she was, and he started to cry finally. The full impact had suddenly hit him. “I want to go now,” he said, looking agitated.

  “She won't know you're there,” Gordon said practically, “and it wouldn't be good for you. You're not strong enough to make the trip.” It was a reality of Teddy's life, no matter how sick his mother was, or how dire her condition. A trip to London was not an option for Teddy.

  “Yes, I am strong enough,” Teddy said ferociously, wiping his eyes bravely. “She needs us at the hospital with her. She's always there for me. We can't leave her alone, Papa. We can't do that to her.” He suddenly looked like a child again as he cried, feeling helpless.

  “Let's wait until Sophie gets home,” Gordon said, looking tired. “Why don't you go upstairs and rest? This isn't good for you,” he told him, as though he were an adult, but Teddy didn't care. All he wanted now was to go to his mother's side. Nothing was going to stop him. He was still talking about it as he walked to the little elevator they'd mounted for him at the side of the stairs. It had been there for years. And as Teddy lay on his bed, talking to the nurse, once he got back to his room, his eyes were wild. He couldn't stop talking, and after dinner, the nurse took his temperature and he had a fever. He had gotten too excited, which was dangerous for him. It was precisely the kind of reaction Gordon had expected Teddy to have when he heard the news.

  Teddy was still wide awake when Sophie came home late that night. She had managed to catch an eight o'clock flight, and by midnight, she was back in Paris.

  Gordon was waiting up for her, and he met her in the front hall when he heard the car outside. She catapulted into his arms the moment she saw him and started crying.

  “Oh, Papa … please don't let her die….” He had never seen her so upset, understandably, and as soon as she'd calmed down a little bit, she went upstairs to see Teddy. He was waiting for her in his bed. And the two embraced as though they hadn't seen each other in years. The most terrible, unthinkable thing had happened to them. Neither of them could imagine it. It was beyond bearing, beyond thinking. They cried for a long time in each other's arms, until their father finally walked into the room, looking exhausted. The emotions of the day had taken a toll on him, as well as his children.

  “I'm coming to London with you to see Mom,” Teddy said to Sophie quietly, as their father stood watching them, looking grim. Their reaction had been even worse than he'd feared.

  “I don't think he should,” Gordon said somberly. “It'll just make him sicker than he is.” He spoke of Teddy as though he couldn't hear him.

  “Mom wouldn't like that,” Sophie said, smoothing her brother's tousled hair, and just touching him, she could feel he was too warm. “She'd be very upset if you got sick, and that won't be good for her when she wakes up,” Sophie said sensibly, stressing the word “when” and not “if.” Teddy looked at her with huge eyes.

  “I want to see her anyway, even if she's in a coma. She'll know I'm there.” It was the same theory Bill had, but their father didn't agree. He thought that Teddy's seeing her was pointless.

  “She doesn't know anyone's there,” Gordon said calmly. He was sure of that, he didn't believe that people in comas heard things, or sensed what was happening. Especially after seeing her, he was convinced that was nonsense, and he was not going to allow the boy to go. It would be insane, and too great a risk for anyone to take him there, he was much too frail to travel, or even leave the house.

  “Then why are you going if she won't know you're there?” Teddy asked Sophie pointedly.

  “She's not sick,” Gordon said sensibly. “And I think she should. I'll stay here with you.”

  “You're not going back, Papa?” Sophie looked shocked, but didn't say anything when he shook his head.

  “Not yet. I'll wait till you come home. You can go tomorrow for the day if you want, or spend the night, whatever you prefer.”

  “I thought I'd stay a little while, maybe a few days.”

  “We'll see how she is, but don't stay too long,” Gordon said, and then left the room. He had no intention of being alone in the house with his son for an extended period of time. He wanted Sophie to take over his care, and she couldn't do that if she was in London with her mother.

  Sophie slept in Teddy's bed that night, with her arms around him, and she got up early the next day while he was still asleep. She showered and dressed, and she was ready to leave for the airport by the time he woke up.

  “Are you going now?” he asked sleepily. “I want to come.” But he was too tired and weak to move. The night before had taken a toll on him, and he looked less well than he had in a long time.

  “I'll be back soon,” Sophie whispered, and then left his room. She went to say good-bye to her father, but he had already left for the bank. A ticket had been arranged for her the night before, and she had a reservation at Claridge's. She knew the name of the hospital where her mother was. St. Thomas' Hospital. And she still had money left over from her trip. Her father's driver was waiting for her outside, and half an hour later she was at Roissy There had been no traffic at all. And Sophie looked far calmer and more mature than she felt.

  Her flight landed at noon local time, and a car from Claridge's drove her straight to the hospital. She felt very grown up going there, in a simple navy dress and a pair of shoes her mother had bought for her. Her hair was pulled back, and she was well dressed, but to anyone who saw her, even at eighteen she looked like a child, with huge frightened eyes filled with sorrow.

  The nurses smiled at her when she spoke to them at the desk. She explained who she was, and one of them took her straight to her mother's room. The door across the hall was open, and she saw a man watching her. He had no other choice, they had turned him on his side, and he was looking toward the door, unable to move.

  Cautiously, she stepped into her mother's room and was instantly shocked by what she saw there. Her mother looked deathly pale, with a huge bandage on her head. A respirator was breathing for her, and there were monitors and tubes coming from every part of her. Sophie's eyes filled with tears as she approached the bed, and she stood there for a long time just looking at her and touching her hand, and then finally a nurse pulled a chair up to the bed for her, and Sophie sat down. Instinctively, Sophie started talking to Isabelle, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could hear her. She told her how much she loved her, and begged her to live. There was no sign of life from Isabelle. The only thing that moved was the respirator, and the little lines of light on the m
onitors. There was no other sound or movement in the room. Her mother looked even more terrifying than she'd expected. It was hard to believe she'd survive it.

  Sophie sat there for a long time, and then finally, around four o'clock, she walked out of the room. The same man who had watched her go in was looking at her again. The nurses had told him who she was, but he would have known anyway. She looked like a very young Isabelle.

  “Sophie?” he called out, and she started at the sound of her name, surprised that he knew who she was. And she slowly approached and stood in his doorway.

  “Yes,” she said hesitantly, she was deeply upset by what she had just seen. He wished he could put his arms around her, for Isabelle's sake, and his own. There was so little he could do for her.

  “My name is Bill Robinson. Your mother and I are friends. I was in the car with her,” he said, as though to apologize for her being there at all. “I'm so sorry about what happened.” She nodded, looking at him. She didn't remember her mother ever mentioning his name, but he looked like a nice man, and he was also obviously very badly hurt, but, unlike her mother, he was awake and alive.

  “What happened to you in the accident?” Sophie asked carefully, she was afraid to enter the room. And she still didn't fully understand who he was, or why he had been with her mother.

  “I fractured my neck, and hit my head. But your mom is in a lot worse shape than I am,” he said, looking sad. “I'd give anything to change places with her, Sophie. I hope you know that. I'd give my life for her if I could.” Sophie was touched by what he said, he seemed like a nice man. And she wondered how he and her mother had come to be friends. Her mother never went anywhere, because of Teddy.

  “How is Teddy taking it?” he asked. “Does he know?”

  “My father told him last night,” she said, feeling strange. It was odd the way he seemed to know them all, without their knowing him. “He's very upset. He had a fever last night, but he wanted to come. I have to go home to take care of him tomorrow. I'd rather stay, but I think he needs me there.” She was stepping into Isabelle's shoes, and Bill wished he could reach out and touch her, she looked so like her mother.