“What are you saying to me?” she said sadly, when he offered no hope of seeing her for even a weekend if she came to Paris to see him. Their situation was getting more depressing every day, and so was his. They were the caboose on the train to misery that was currently his wife’s.
“I’m saying that I have no idea what to do,” he sighed. “I love you, but I don’t know when I can see you again. My wife has cancer, my children are going crazy. I had to take our apartment off the market, because it made her hysterical to think that she might have to move in the middle of her treatment, so that was the least I could do for her. Timmie, what can I say?” Her stomach did a quiet double flip. It was the first she had heard of his taking their apartment off the market. “What would you like me to do, given everything that’s happening here?” She would have liked him to leave anyway, and perhaps care for his wife while living in his own apartment. But the way he put it to her, it would have sounded cruel to say it, so she didn’t. He had to figure it out for himself, and he wasn’t. He was doing the right thing for his wife and kids, but not for her at the moment. Worse yet, she wasn’t even sure she blamed him. She understood. But it was frightening for her anyway. And being pregnant now only made it that much worse. But she knew she would have been worried and upset even if she weren’t. Her worst fear was always that he wouldn’t leave his wife and come to her. It had become a far worse version of everything Jade had said, and cancer was so serious, there was no way she could argue with him.
“I don’t know,” Timmie said with tears in her eyes. She seemed to cry constantly these days. She missed him terribly. And he said he missed her just as much. There was no way to measure pain, to determine who was suffering most, or who had the most at stake. It was a tough spot for both of them, Timmie knew. She tried to make light of it for a minute, there was nothing else to do. “Maybe we should use the Affair to Remember solution.”
“And what is that?” he asked, sounding offended. “I don’t consider this an affair. I don’t take this lightly, Timmie. You are the love of my life.” And he was hers. But he hadn’t come to her yet, and maybe never would. She couldn’t lose sight of that anymore either. What was happening was too frightening for her to ignore the obvious risks. Nothing about their situation was secure.
“You are the love of my life too,” she said, sounding serious, and then went on to explain. “An Affair to Remember is a movie, a very old one. A classic. With Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. They meet on a ship and fall in love, both are engaged to other people, and they agree to meet six months later at the Empire State Building after they clean up their lives. They both need jobs, and need to wind out of their engagements. Anyway, they make a date at the Empire State Building, if they’re both free. Cary Grant tells her that he won’t hold it against her if she doesn’t show up. She promises the same thing. The day comes. He’s waiting for her, and she gets hit by a cab on the way to meet him, and she never gets there. She is in a wheelchair, and doesn’t want him to see her that way, so she never calls him. I think he runs into her in a theater many months later, and he doesn’t realize that her legs are paralyzed, and he’s pretty mad at her. He does a painting of her, because he’s an artist, and someone at the gallery tells him that a woman in a wheelchair bought the painting … and then he understands, and goes to find her …” She had tears in her eyes as she said it. “And they all live happily ever after. Even though she tries to lie to him when he finds her. But when he sees the painting in her bedroom, he realizes that she was the woman in the wheelchair, and he loves her anyway.”
“That’s quite a story,” Jean-Charles said, touched though slightly amused at the comparison to the old movie. “I hope you’re not planning to get run over by a car. And you’re not going to wind up in a wheelchair, Timmie.” It sounded a little melodramatic to him.
“No, I’m not. But what I meant was, maybe you want to make a date for a few months from now, and let this rest until then. You can’t see me anyway, and I keep holding my breath and waiting for you to set a date for me to come over. Maybe we have to let that go for now.” She was crying as she said it, and he sounded instantly upset.
“Is that what you want, Timmie?” He sounded as unhappy as she did, and somewhat panicked now himself. He didn’t want to lose her, no matter what it took. But there was no question, currently his life was a mess, and his family needed him, to the exclusion of all else, even her. And he knew how unfair it was to Timmie. He had been feeling guilty about it constantly, and didn’t know which way to turn, without letting other people down. He wondered if maybe she was right.
“No, it’s not,” she said honestly. “I want to see you. Now. Immediately. I love you. I miss you terribly. But it doesn’t sound like that’s possible for you, given your wife’s situation. Maybe it would take the pressure off for you if we make a date, and promise ourselves to sort out everything by then, or as much as we can.” She had nothing to sort out, he did, and he knew it. But there was something simpler about her plan. At least he wouldn’t be disappointing her every day, when he failed to ask her to come to Paris, and couldn’t fly over to see her himself.
“Would you still talk to me if we did that?” he asked, sounding worried.
“I don’t know if we should …” And then she started to cry harder, and it nearly broke his heart. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and make everything better. He hated the fact that his wife had gotten cancer, for all of them, and that he was letting Timmie down now as a result. He was well aware of the damage he was doing her, and how terrified she must be, given her old fears of abandonment. The situation would have been hard for anyone, and was even more so for her. He hated doing that to her. “I don’t know if I could survive months of not talking to you,” Timmie said, sobbing. “I already miss you so much.” Talking to him was getting her through the days and nights of loneliness and fear. Without that, it would be even harder, maybe too much so. Especially now that she was pregnant and needed his support, whether he knew about the baby or not.
“I couldn’t do it either,” he said firmly. “My darling, please try not to worry. I love you. We will be together again. Forever. I promise.” But what if they weren’t? Timmie thought it but didn’t say it. “Perhaps you’re right though. Perhaps we should forget trying to get together now, or even this summer. It will be the first of June on Monday. By September first, she will have finished chemo. Radiation will be far less traumatic. And I will have seen her through the worst by then. Neither she nor the children can reproach me for abandoning her during her illness. I would feel comfortable moving out in September. Timmie, if you give me that time, I will be forever grateful.” Timmie couldn’t help wondering what would happen if she got sicker instead of better, or if the children didn’t see it the way he did. What if he didn’t leave then either? But she didn’t say it to him. She was trying to be decent about it, and he was too. She just hoped he wasn’t being naïve with what he promised. “Shall we make a date at the Empire State Building on September first?” he said gently, and she laughed through her tears.
“It doesn’t have to be there.” And then she laughed again. “What about the Eiffel Tower? But if we’re talking to each other, we’ll know anyway if the other is going to show up or not.”
“I will show up,” he said, sounding serious. “It is a solemn promise I am making you. On September first, I will be yours forever, to do with what you wish. I love you, and I will be entirely yours from then on.” She made a rapid calculation and realized she would be five months pregnant by then, or close to it. It would be a big surprise for him when they met. But she could wait. If he was promising a life with her, she could wait another three months. She had no doubt in her heart or mind that he was worth it. And she didn’t want to put more pressure on him and tell him about the baby. She could manage on her own till then, or forever if she had to. Hopefully, this time the child she had would be hers forever. And with luck, so would Jean-Charles.
“All right, it�
��s a date,” she said sadly. She hated knowing she wouldn’t see him for another three months, but it seemed to be the only way to do this, and for him to stay sane. “The Eiffel Tower on September first.”
“I will meet you at the Jules Verne Restaurant,” he said, feeling slightly silly. “And I will call you every day until then. That, I promise.” They both sounded sad when they hung up. She felt as though she had lost something rather than gained, with their agreement. She had lost the opportunity for constant disappointment and broken promises. But she had also given up the hope of seeing him for the next three months. It was going to be very hard, for both of them. She just hoped the relationship would survive it. There was no way to tell. All she had now were her hopes, her dreams, her deep love for him, and the child she carried that he knew nothing about, and maybe never would. If he didn’t show up on September 1, she had already promised herself that in that case, she would never tell him about their child. And if so, she would be alone with their baby for the rest of her life, with only memories of him to keep her warm. It was a frightening thought. And all she could hope was that he would show up, as promised, on September 1. All she could do now was pray, hope, trust, and wait.
Chapter 18
The next months were hard for her. She tried to be a good sport about it, but not seeing him was a bigger challenge than she had thought. Jean-Charles called her every day to report on the situation there. The chemotherapy was predictably horrible, and a week after it began, his wife had lost all her hair, and his children were beside themselves at the prospect of losing their mother. There was no way to tell yet if the chemotherapy would work. And Jean-Charles sounded drained each time they spoke. He kept assuring Timmie that he loved her, but he was becoming a disembodied voice to her now. It was hard to believe or remember that she had once been so happy in his arms. Her ever-growing belly was the only tangible proof of that.
As the summer got under way, she managed easily to keep her pregnancy from David and Jade. She was more tired than usual, and lay down when she went home. She was queasy at times, and had headaches now and then, but she shared none of her discomforts, or private hopes, agonies, or fears with them. She kept everything to herself, and as she was slim and tall, nothing showed. She wore looser shirts, and in July bought slightly bigger jeans, but she still looked as thin as ever. There was no reason for anyone to suspect she was pregnant. It was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. Jade commented to David once that she thought Timmie had put on a little weight, but they both knew she was having a hard time. It was obvious that Jean-Charles had put her on the back burner of his life, and she had finally told them both that his wife had cancer, and they were putting things on hold until September. She made no further comments, although both her assistants knew that he was still calling. And David hadn’t given up hope. Jade had no doubt whatsoever what would happen, but now she only shared her dark predictions with David.
“He’s history,” Jade said to him in July. Timmie hadn’t seen him since New York in April, three months before. “He’s not coming back. His wife will need him because she’s sick, his kids would never forgive him if he left, even later. And for the next five or ten years, even if she gets cured, they’re all going to be scared shitless she’ll get sick again. Forget it,” Jade said bluntly.
“Isn’t it even remotely possible the guy is trying to do the right thing, and he’ll still manage to get out? He’s a decent guy, Jade. You’ve got to admire him for trying to get out clean.”
“Bullshit. How much do you admire him for what he’s doing to Timmie? Have you looked at her face lately? She looks like someone died. And she’s right. She did. Believe me, I know what that feels like. She probably knows in her heart of hearts he’s not coming back. She’s just not ready to admit it to herself.”
“Christ, you’re pessimistic. I think they really love each other. Why don’t we suspend judgment till September, as Timmie is? If he doesn’t come back then, maybe I’ll give you some leeway on your position. But even then, September is just a guess for him. Maybe he won’t make it back into her life until November or December or January. But I think he’ll be back. I’d bet my life on it. All my instincts tell me he’s a good guy.”
“You’re just sticking up for your own sex. Believe me, he’s not coming back.”
“A thousand bucks says he is,” David said with a smoldering look, as Jade looked at him with hard eyes.
“You’re on,” she said. “I need a new Chanel bag. What’s our deadline?”
“October first. Let’s give him thirty days slippage.”
“September first.”
“You’re tough. And what happens if he comes back after and I was right?”
“I’ll lend you my purse.” She knew he was straight, and they both laughed.
“You drive a hard bargain. I say you sell the purse, and buy me some new golf clubs.”
“All right, all right, if he comes back after September first, I’ll take you out to an expensive dinner.”
“You’re on.” They shook hands on it as Timmie walked in. She was going to Santa Barbara for the Fourth of July weekend the next day and didn’t look enthused about it. She didn’t look enthused about anything these days, and she was being more short-tempered than usual, although they knew that Jean-Charles was still calling her every day. She was always happy for a few minutes after he called her, and she put up a good front for him, and then her spirits plummeted again. Jade had rarely seen her as down, and David worried about her. They both did.
“What are you two up to?” She had seen them shake hands on their bet, and knew they were up to some kind of mischief. Jade was in good spirits these days. Her romance with the architect was blooming. And David was going out with three new women he had met on the Internet. She thought they were both silly, but whatever worked. They were young, and deserved to have some fun. All she could focus on these days was her baby, although no one knew about it.
“Nothing.” They both answered her in unison. “We just made a bet about whether or not David would score with the girl he just met on Match.com.”
“You two are disgusting.” She smiled. “The poor girl. Imagine if she knew that all she is is fodder for a bet. Do I want to know how much?”
David shook his head and laughed. “No, you don’t.” He handed her some reports, and she went back to her office. She was keeping to herself these days. In great part, because she didn’t want to have to listen to Jade say “I told you so.” And in any case, Jean-Charles was still being loving, and calling every day as he had promised. His wife was very sick, his kids were monumentally upset, and they still had a date for September 1, to meet at the Eiffel Tower. It was all she had to hold on to at the moment. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had. And he had no suspicions about the baby. There was no reason why he would.
The only comment he had made was that he almost always woke her up now when he called her at midnight, when he called at nine A.M. Paris time from his office. When he had called her before at that hour, she was always working, or reading. Now she was almost always asleep. And he was worried that she might be depressed and sleeping more. It never occurred to him that it was because she was pregnant.
They still talked for hours on the phone, and shared what was happening in their lives. She told him about work, the things she did, the weekends in Malibu. She told him about everything but their baby, who was quietly growing inside her, a tribute to their love for each other. And it saddened her beyond belief when she thought sometimes, in her darkest hours, that he might never even know about their child. She was still determined not to tell him if he stayed with his wife. She only wanted him to know about the baby if he came back to her. If not, it was her responsibility and not his problem. She had no desire to be a burden to him, or to appear pathetic. She didn’t want him out of pity, responsibility, or concern. She only wanted him as he had come to her in the first place, as they had conceived this child, out of the deepest love for each othe
r. She wanted nothing less than that from him.
Her weekend in Santa Barbara was predictably boring, and for the rest of July, she worked, went to Malibu, and spent time with the children at St. Cecilia’s. She felt faint there one day, on a particularly hot, airless, smoggy afternoon, and Sister Anne said she was worried about her.
“I’m fine. Just working too hard, as always.” Timmie brushed off her concerns, and they chatted for a little while. The wise old nun saw through Timmie’s front of ease and bravado. She knew something was wrong these days, and hoped that if Timmie needed to, she would talk to her about it, and encouraged her to do so. Timmie gave her a warm hug as she left with tears in her eyes. The nuns were taking all the children to Tahoe for two weeks, on a camping trip, and they had invited Timmie to come along, but she’d declined. She was tired, and camping with them for two weeks was more than she could handle at the moment. She said she might come up for a weekend, and did on the first weekend in August. Sister Anne was thrilled that she had come, and all the children cheered when she got out of her car and they saw her.
“I’m so glad you decided to join us,” Sister Anne said, and gave her a warm hug. They had set up tents, and the children loved it, and all the nuns were there. The house in L.A. was locked up, alarmed, and empty.
“I haven’t camped in years,” Timmie said ruefully. “I’m not even sure I want to.” She was the first to admit that she had gotten very spoiled over the years and liked her life that way.
“You’ll love it!” Sister Anne reassured her. And she was right.
They had campfires every night, roasted marshmallows, and made s’mores, which Timmie proved to be an expert at, she had made them in the orphanage herself as a child. She went fishing with them, went on nature walks and hikes, ran in terror from a bear that lumbered by and never bothered them again. And finally, after swearing she never would, she dove into the lake with them on the last day. Predictably, it was as freezing cold as she had feared, but she had a wonderful time with them, and taught one of the children to swim, the little boy who had refused to speak when he arrived, and now never stopped talking. She taught them all songs at night around the campfire. And she was happy and breathless as she got out of the lake and wrapped herself in a towel. She noticed that Sister Anne was watching her with a warm smile. Her eyes met Timmie’s, and the two women exchanged a peaceful, loving look.
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