“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 ca
n'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 AUTHOR
DANIELLE 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
The Kiss Page 35