The Kiss

by Danielle Steel

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Bill asked, feeling as helpless as she did. There was nothing anyone could do at this point. They couldn't change what had happened to them, and whether Isabelle came out of the coma or not was in the hands of God.

  “No, I'm fine,” she said. But she looked unspeakably sad.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At Claridge's.”

  “My wife and daughters are there. If you have any problem tonight, give them a call.” And just as he said it, Cynthia and the girls walked down the hall, and saw Sophie talking to him from the doorway of his room. He introduced everyone, and then Sophie said she should go. She didn't want to intrude. She thought his daughters looked nice, and guessed correctly that Jane was about the same age she was. Sophie said good-bye politely to all of them, and then walked away down the hall. She was going to come back later that night, to see her mother again. It was all she wanted to do.

  “Is that her daughter?” Cynthia asked quietly.

  “Yes, it is. She has a son too, but he's very ill.” Cynthia made no comment, and started to straighten up his room, for lack of something better to do. And the girls chatted with him.

  They had decided to leave the next day. They were going to Paris for a week, and they were going to come through London to see him on the way home. He thought it was a great idea, and wanted them to have some fun. He and Cynthia had agreed to tell them about the divorce on the way back, and then they could adjust to the idea of it once they went home. He didn't want to spoil Paris for them. And Cynthia was taking them out to dinner that night. They were going to use his membership at Harry's Bar. And just hearing that made him think of Isabelle, and going there with her.

  Bill was lying quietly on his back, thinking about her that night, when Sophie came back to see her mother. And this time, she stopped and walked into the room to see how he was.

  “How do you feel, Mr. Robinson?” she asked politely as he smiled at her.

  “About the same. How are you?” She shrugged, and her eyes filled with tears. It broke her heart to see her mother like that, and there was no sign of her making any progress toward consciousness at all. She was suspended in a faraway, distant place, from which no one knew if she would ever return. The nurses had told him that she could live for years like that, and never come out of the coma before she eventually died. It was a hideous thought and a terrible waste of an extraordinary woman, and it seemed so desperately unfair. Ever since the accident, Bill had wished that he had died and she had been spared.

  “How did you meet my mom?” Sophie asked, standing next to his bed. She had been wondering about it ever since she'd met him that afternoon. Her father hadn't said she was in the car with anyone, and Sophie had been surprised when Bill spoke to her.

  “We met a long time ago, at the American Embassy in Paris.” He suddenly needed to talk about her, and he was glad Sophie had asked. “We have lunch a couple of times a year, and we talk on the phone sometimes. And she tells me all about Teddy and you.” Sophie wanted to ask him if he was in love with her, or her mother with him, but as they were both married, she thought it would be rude. But it seemed odd to her that she had never heard about him. Her mother had never mentioned his name.

  “Do you know my father too?” she asked, and he smiled, and then invited her to sit down, which she did.

  “Yes, I do. I think he's very angry at me since the accident. I think he believes that it would have never happened to her if we hadn't gone out to dinner. I would feel that way too in his shoes.”

  “It's not your fault. The nurse said your driver was killed. It's all so terrible. I don't understand how something like that can happen,” and then tears filled her eyes again, “My mother is such a good person, this seems so wrong.”

  “Yes, she is a very good person.” There were tears in his eyes too, and he stretched out a hand and held hers. In an odd way, it was like touching Isabelle, and for Sophie, this man who was a friend of hers was like a way of reaching out to her. They shared an unusual bond through Isabelle.

  “I wasn't always nice to her,” Sophie confessed after a while. “I used to get angry at her. She spent so much time with Teddy, when I was younger, I thought she didn't have enough time for me.” It was a way of confessing her sins and the things she regretted now, and he understood.

  “She loves you so much, Sophie. She never said anything about you except that you're a wonderful girl.” All he wanted was to reassure her now. It was all he could do for her.

  “Was she happy that night?” Sophie asked sadly. “Was she having fun?” It was an odd question to ask him, and all he could think of as she questioned him was their first and last kiss.

  “Yes, she was. We went to see a wonderful art exhibit that afternoon, and she was excited about it. And then we went out to dinner. I was here to see the American ambassador,” he stretched the truth a bit for both their sakes, “and we ran into each other at Claridge's and decided to have dinner.” He had no reason to tell this child that they had met in London intentionally and he was in love with her. Isabelle wouldn't have wanted her to know, nor would he. “We hadn't seen each other in a long time.”

  “My mother never has much fun. She's always taking care of Teddy, and stays at home.”

  “I know. That's what she wants to do. She loves you both very much.” Sophie nodded, and they sat there in silence next to each other for a while, and then finally Sophie stood up. She still didn't really know who he was, but felt she had found a new friend. She stood smiling at him for a moment before she left, and all he could see as he looked at her was Isabelle, and the woman Sophie would be one day.

  “I'll come to see you tomorrow,” Sophie promised him. “I'll be here in the morning before I leave.”

  “I'd like that very much. Thank you for talking to me, Sophie.” It had been a moment of comfort in a terribly lonely time for him, more than she knew, or he even understood. Life, as he had known it, was about to change forever. He would never again walk, or jump, or dance, or stroll down the street. His movements, like his life, would be complicated from now on. He had given up his marriage, and lost the woman he loved. He had nothing to hang on to at the moment, and was lost in an open sea with no sign of land around him. It was comforting to spend a few minutes with Isabelle's daughter as they tried to guess where their lives would take them now. Even if he never saw her again, which he knew was a distinct possibility, he was grateful that they had met.

  Cynthia and the girls came to say good-bye to him the next morning, on the way to the airport. And Sophie arrived just after they left. She sat with her mother for over an hour, and then came to say goodbye to him. And she noticed that he looked depressed, she assumed because his family had left and he was alone again. She had no idea that it was far more because of her mother. She had no way of knowing that he was in love with her, although she suspected it.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Robinson,” Sophie said politely as she prepared to leave. “I hope you'll be better soon.” He didn't ask her if she would be back again, it seemed inappropriate since neither of them knew yet if Isabelle would live.

  “Take good care of yourself … for your mom's sake, Sophie. I know she'd be very worried about you now. Be good to yourself, and take care of Teddy,” he said, with tears in his eyes. He sounded like her mother, as though she'd been leaving on a trip. “I'll be thinking about you.”

  “I'll say a prayer for you when I go to church,” she said softly. She felt sad leaving him, as though she were leaving a piece of her mother. He was so nice, she was glad they'd been friends, and that she'd had a nice time with him.

  “I'll say one for you too.” He reached out and took her hand and kissed it gently, because he couldn't kiss her cheek in the contraption he was in. And then with a shy smile, she left him, and he lay there in his bed, with his eyes closed, thinking of her.

  And a little while later, he had himself wheeled into Isabelle's room. She was as silent and removed as ever,
but he lay in the bed they rolled next to hers, and he talked to her about his visit with Sophie.

  “She's a wonderful girl. I can see why you're proud of her,” he said, as though she could hear him, but he still hoped she did. And then he lay there for a long time, thinking strong thoughts for Isabelle, willing her to reach out and live again. He was tired when they wheeled him back to his room. His frequent visits to her had ceased to cause comment among the nursing staff. They had come to accept it as a loving gesture he made. No one asked the reason for it, or wondered what had happened between them, and there were a number of nurses who believed that if anything could bring Isabelle back, Bill could.

  Chapter 8

  Sophie thought a lot about Bill on the way back to Paris, and she could understand why her mother had liked him. He seemed like such a decent man, and she felt so sorry for him. One of the nurses had told her he would never walk again. He seemed to be very philosophical about it, and he was devastated that Isabelle had gotten injured while she was out with him.

  As they landed in Paris, Sophie's thoughts shifted to her mother and brother again. She felt torn now as to where she should be. She had decided to go home for a few days, and then she wanted to go back to London again to see her mother.

  She took a cab from the airport, and the house was strangely quiet when she arrived. There was no sound in the house, and as she walked upstairs, she saw that it was dark in her father's rooms. And when she walked into Teddy's room, she was shocked by the condition he was in. He was running a high fever, seemed nearly delirious, and the doctor had just been there, Teddy's nurse explained. She said that if the fever didn't come down that night, the doctor would put Teddy in the hospital the next day. Just thinking about it, after seeing her mother, was almost more than Sophie could bear.

  “What happened?” Sophie sat down in a chair, looking drained, she felt as though she had grown up overnight. Teddy didn't even know she was there. He had been sedated, and was in a deep sleep.

  “I think he's upset about your mother,” the nurse said in a whisper. “He hasn't slept properly in days. He won't eat, he won't drink.” She and the doctor had discussed starting him on an IV, but he had objected and cried so much when he heard them, that they had agreed to let it go another day, if he would promise to at least try to eat and drink. He looked as though he had lost weight to Sophie.

  “Where's my father?” Sophie asked, running a hand through her hair, looking more than ever like Isabelle. She seemed to be resembling her more and more in the last few days.

  “He's out for the evening,” the nurse said, without comment. She hadn't seen him since the previous day, but she didn't say that to Sophie. “How was your mother?” the nurse asked, looking worried.

  “Still the same,” Sophie said, and thought about Bill. “No one knows what will happen. They said she could be in a coma for a long time, and still recover.” Sophie looked hopeful as she said it, but they had also told her that Isabelle could die at any time. All they could do was pray and wait. “I'm going to go back in a few days.” The nurse nodded, and then took Teddy's pulse again. It was fast and thready, and she frowned as she made a note for the doctor of what it had been. It seemed almost certain to her that they were going to be obliged to hospitalize him. And Sophie agreed. It seemed safest for him.

  Sophie waited up for her father that night, to discuss Teddy's condition with him, and she was surprised at midnight when he wasn't home. She asked the nurse if he knew Teddy was ill.

  “I spoke to him this afternoon in his office,” she said without expression. “I'm sure he'll be home soon.” But at three o'clock, Sophie was still awake and he wasn't in. She had called the hospital in London earlier, to check on her mother, and there was nothing new there either. For a moment, she'd almost asked to speak to Bill, just to say hello, but she was embarrassed to call him, and hung up without asking for him.

  Sophie woke up, still dressed and sitting in a chair in Teddy's room the next morning, just as she had seen her mother do so often when he was ill. She hadn't even intended to, she'd been waiting for her father, and finally fallen asleep. She thought he had probably been careful not to wake her, and didn't know she was waiting in Teddy's room.

  The boy was awake as she left the room to find her father, and he looked a little better. The nurse said the fever had broken, but he still didn't seem at all well to Sophie. And as she walked down the hall to talk to her father, she was surprised to see that his doors were open, and when she looked in, there was no one there.

  She turned to the maid with surprise. “Did my father sleep here last night, Josephine?” The woman shook her head and disappeared down the stairs. It was not an answer she thought appropriate to give his daughter at her age. But Sophie could see for herself that he hadn't. The shades and curtains were drawn, the lights were off, and the room was undisturbed. No one had been in his bed. And for an instant, she panicked. What if something had happened to her father? They would be orphans, she suddenly realized. She couldn't imagine where he'd been. An hour later she called his office, and he sounded perfectly calm when he answered. He hadn't seen her since she left for London, and she was astonished he hadn't been home with Teddy. It seemed irresponsible to her.

  “Teddy has been sick,” she said with a tone of accusation, as though it was his fault, but he seemed unconcerned.

  “I know. I spoke to Marthe yesterday afternoon. The doctor came to see him, and I spoke to him today.” He was not about to accept a hint of reproach from an eighteen-year-old girl.

  “You didn't come home last night,” Sophie said tersely, and he almost laughed at the tone of her voice, but she was not amused.

  “I'm well aware of that. I was with friends out of the city, it got late, and I thought it more prudent to stay there than drive home.”

  Sophie assumed he'd been drinking, and given what had just happened to her mother, she had to agree with him about driving home when he was tired.

  “I just spoke to London,” he said quietly, “there's no change.”

  “Oh.” Sophie's spirits were further dampened by that news. But she was still upset that her father hadn't come home the night before. If something terrible had happened to Teddy, they would have needed him there. And no one knew where he had been. But he wasn't the least apologetic, and Sophie suddenly found herself wondering if he stayed out all night regularly. She'd never been aware of it before. And she couldn't help asking herself if there were things about her parents she didn't know, particularly since she'd met Bill. It still seemed odd that she had never heard of her mother's friendship with him, and it occurred to her that she never ventured into her father's rooms at night or in the early morning. Maybe there were other times when he hadn't been there. He went out a great deal in the evenings for business, and her mother rarely went with him anymore. Sophie suddenly had a sense of her whole life unraveling, not just because of what had happened to Isabelle, but because of what it had exposed. Sophie had always thought her father was godlike, and now she was wondering if he had secrets of which she was unaware. Perhaps there were more reasons than just Teddy that had kept her mother at home, and her parents sleeping in separate rooms.

  “Will you be home tonight?” she asked her father, sounding nervous, feeling more like his wife than his daughter, but she was feeling very insecure. There were too many frightening things going on.

  “Yes, I will. I'll be out for dinner. But I'll be home before you go to bed,” he reassured her.

  “If Teddy has to go to the hospital, I'll need you to be there,” Sophie explained.

  “The doctor seems less worried. I think Teddy's just had a shock and he needs time to recover from it.”

  “We all have,” Sophie said sadly. “When are you going back to London?”

  “In a few days. There's nothing I can do there. They'll call us if there's any change.” But if she died, Sophie thought, no one would be with her, and if something happened to warn them of it, it would take them hours to
get from Paris to London. Sophie wished she could just stay there, but she knew Teddy needed her too. And now that she realized that her father stayed out all night at times, she didn't feel she could leave. It was hard to know what was the right thing to do. Her father seemed far less troubled by it than she was.

  Her father left for a meeting then, and Sophie spent the day with her brother, reading to him, telling him stories, and talking to him about their mother. She was doing the best she could, but they both knew she was no substitute for Isabelle. She felt like a zombie by the time her father came home after dinner. He seemed in good spirits, and sat down in the library to smoke a cigar. Sophie had heard him come in and found him there. She was surprised he hadn't come to find her upstairs. He had always been so pleasant to her and so interested that she was surprised by how distant he was being these days, particularly with her mother so ill. But suddenly, as she watched him, she wondered if his previous interest in her had been more show than real, and perhaps even to annoy Isabelle, and make her feel less important to him. Sophie had always been treated as his little darling, and he had been as cool and distant with his wife as he was now with Sophie.

  “How was your day, Papa?” she asked cautiously.

  Hers had been pretty grim, between worrying about her mother and caring for a sick boy.

  “Long. How was yours?”

  “I was with Teddy all day.” She expected him to ask more about it, but at the mention of her brother, her father looked instantly bored as he poured himself a glass of port.

  “What else did you do?” he asked, focusing on his cigar, and it felt strange sitting there talking to him as though nothing had happened. Her mother was in a coma in a hospital in London, and her brother had been failing since he heard. And her father seemed astonishingly unconcerned. And as she looked at him, all she could think of was the look of devastation on Bill Robinson's face when he talked about her mother. She saw none of that in her father's eyes. He seemed distant and cool whenever he referred to her.