If he could learn to walk again, he would meet her quietly somewhere in France when she could get away. But the sexual issue remained a question mark for him. If the rehabilitation center in the States was no more successful at getting him on his feet again than the doctors in England thought it would be, he was not going to see her again. Sex would not even be an issue then. He was not willing to burden her with his limitations if he was wheelchair-bound for the rest of his days. He was tormented by both issues in their final days in the hospital, whether he would ever walk again, and whether time would restore his manhood. He was not willing to inflict either problem on Isabelle, and she had no idea how intensely and how hopeless he felt about it. Bill was careful not to express to her how pessimistic he was, although at times she sensed it without words.
He admitted to his doctor once that he had attempted to make love to her, and how devastating his failure had been, and the doctor had reassured him as best he could.
“I'm not surprised, you know,” the surgeon said to him, with uncharacteristic understanding. “It actually sounds fairly hopeful, for the first time, after such an extensive trauma. Give it time, I think you may be encouraged by what happens. It is still very reasonable to expect that you would achieve both erection and orgasm within the first year. I think you may have been a little too enthusiastic and optimistic a little too soon. It's still very early days.” But in spite of the potential comfort of the doctor's words, Bill didn't believe him. He continued to cling to his terror that the situation was hopeless, and it would never work. And he was absolutely determined not to try it again anytime in the near future, although Isabelle was more than willing to be creative with him, but Bill was not. He had abandoned all thought of a physical relationship with Isabelle for the time being, and maybe forever. And he had no idea when, or if, they'd have the opportunity to try again.
But in spite of the torture Bill was putting himself through, he and Isabelle were still sharing a room, and she was contemplating what to do with her life. She knew she would never leave her marriage, because of Teddy and Sophie, but nor was she willing now to give up Bill. Being his lover was a life she had never envisaged for herself, but it was what she wanted now and all she could have. She and Bill shared something that she had never known before. She often felt as though they were two bodies with one soul. And nothing on earth was going to make her give that up.
She spoke to Gordon every few days. He had his secretary call the nurses' station every day to check on her condition, but more often than not she called him, usually at the office, out of respect for him, and to check how Teddy was. Usually, Sophie called her about him. And Isabelle called Teddy herself every day. And when Isabelle spoke to Gordon, as always, he sounded distant and cool. Most of the time, she had the feeling that she had interrupted him and had called at an inopportune time. He had very little to say to her, since the accident. And she could sense that he no longer trusted her, although he never said as much. She felt as though he were punishing her, and she knew that once she was back in Paris with him, she would have some serious explaining to do. The fact that she and Bill had been to Annabel's and Harry's Bar, and had been together at that hour when the bus hit their car, spoke for itself. He said only once to her, during one of their calls, “You're not the woman I married, Isabelle. In fact, I'm not sure I know who you are.” She felt guilty about it at times, and she knew it wasn't right to pursue her relationship with Bill, and yet it was like a drug to her now, her life depended on it, and she didn't want to give it up.
She was talking to Bill about it one night, as she massaged his legs for him. He said they still felt mostly numb, but he had some sensation, as he did elsewhere, and they ached sometimes, almost as though he'd been walking for a long time. She was telling him about the conversation she'd had with Gordon that day. He had been particularly short with her, and she sighed when she hung up the phone.
“I don't think he'll ever trust me again,” she said to Bill. “And he's right, of course. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like going home. What about you? How angry is Cynthia?” Isabelle had noticed that he never talked about her, only the girls. But their relationship had been very different than hers and Gordon's was, they led far more separate lives, and there was little if any pretense of a relationship between them anymore. He still had not told Isabelle about the divorce. It was the only secret he had kept from her. He didn't want her to know he was soon to be free. He didn't want her to feel pressured. He knew she was staying in her marriage, and it seemed best to him if she believed he was married too.
“I don't think she was happy when she left,” Bill said honestly. “I was honest with her about my feelings about you. And I didn't have to be. But she knows me, and she knew how worried I was about you.”
“That didn't bother her?” Isabelle asked, looking surprised.
“I'm sure it did, but she knows better than to make a big fuss. She has enough secrets in her past.” He smiled at Isabelle. “You can't put a man in jail for being in love. And Cynthia has led her own life for a long time. She hasn't let the grass grow under her feet for the last ten years.”
Isabelle was pensive as she listened to him. “I don't think Gordon has ever cheated on me,” she said quietly. “He's far too conservative and proper and sensible to do anything like that.” From what Bill knew of their marriage, he wasn't as sure, but he didn't want to say that to her. It seemed odd to him for a man to be as cold and even cruel to her as her husband was, and not be finding comfort and consolation somewhere else. On the contrary, when he'd met him, he didn't think Gordon looked like the kind of man to be faithful or loyal to anyone. He was entirely out for himself. And Bill thought a mistress hidden somewhere would have explained Gordon's appalling behavior to his wife.
“What makes you think that?” Bill asked cautiously, he didn't want to stir things up, particularly since she was going back to him. He wanted her to have a peaceful life, not assist her in waging war on a man who could far too easily be cruel and damaging to her.
“Affection isn't important to him, neither is sex,” she said very openly. “We haven't slept in the same room for years.” He knew what she meant by that, and he smiled at her. She was very proper and shy in some ways, verbally at least. But she was very open and comfortable with him. And she was also naive about her husband, he felt sure.
Bill and Isabelle were happy together in every way, but by the following week, they were both beginning to look strained. She had a battery of tests scheduled, and if her doctors were pleased with the results, she was going home. It was late August by then, and they had been in the hospital for two months. Gordon was getting angrier every day, and accusing her doctors of dragging their feet in releasing her. And the rehab center where Bill was scheduled for the next several months was waiting for him. She had to go back to Paris, and he was due to return to the States. Their strange idyll was about to end. It wasn't easy for either of them to face.
“Do you swear you'll call me every day?” she asked, looking sad one night as they lay in bed. She was due to have her last brain scan the next day. Her liver was healing, her heart had looked normal on the last sonogram, and her lungs had finally cleared.
“I'll call you ten times a day if I can,” he said, pulling her closer to him. “You can call me too, you know.”
“I will. I'll get up very early so I can call you before you go to sleep at night.” But she also knew that if she called too often, Gordon or his secretary would see the number on their bills. She wasn't as free to call him as he was to call her. She was also aware of how duplicitous it was to continue their relationship by phone, but she couldn't bear the thought of being out of touch with him. They had been living together for two months.
They had gotten spoiled during their time in the hospital, and the thought of their being apart now frightened her. She had no idea when she'd see him again. The doctors had told him to expect to be in the rehabilitation center in New York for six months to
a year. It sounded like a life sentence to both of them.
“You have to hurry up and get well,” she told him as she kissed his chest, leaning over onto his bed. “I want you to come to Paris as soon as you can.” There was no way she could come to New York. Sophie had had the burden of Teddy's responsibility for long enough, and she was about to go back to school. Isabelle knew it would be a long time before she could leave Paris again. She was desperate to see Teddy for herself. He had been sounding weaker and weaker on the phone.
But Bill said nothing when she mentioned his coming to France, and she didn't notice it. He had promised himself that he would phase himself slowly out of her life if he couldn't walk, or worse, be a man with her. It was a deal he had made with himself, and he had said nothing about it to her. He had never told her how grim his own prognosis was, and how much he feared that he would never walk again. He wanted to see what they said when he got back to the States. He still didn't quite believe that he would be confined to a wheelchair. But if he was, she had one invalid in her life, and he wasn't going to allow her to have two.
Bill couldn't tolerate the idea of her pitying him, or taking care of him as she had her son. She had spent fourteen years with a mortally ill child. And he didn't want her to have to take care of him, or even think about him that way. But even if he never saw her again, he couldn't imagine not talking to her on the phone. He could no longer imagine waking up in the morning, or the night, without having Isabelle next to him. It pained him just thinking about her being so far away, not being able to watch over her, or take care of her, or see her smile at him when she walked into the room. The time they had spent together had been the happiest in his life. He only wished it could have turned out differently, that Teddy were healthier, and Gordon had less of a grip on her. He had a myriad of wishes about her, and feared that none of them would come true.
The last few days in the hospital seemed to fly by them with the speed of sound. All of her tests were clear, and she had regained some of her strength again. She was ready to leave the hospital, and all the arrangements had been made. Gordon was supposed to come from Paris to take her back, but at the last minute, he told them to hire a nurse to make the trip with her instead. He said he had too much to do. But Isabelle preferred it that way, she didn't want anyone or anything keeping her from Bill on her last night with him.
The nurses left them alone on their last night. They just wanted some quiet time alone, to be peaceful and close. She was leaving in the morning, and Bill the following week. He still had a few last tests to do.
“I can't imagine leaving you tomorrow,” Isabelle said unhappily. She had climbed into his bed, and they held each other close. She would have loved to find a way to make love to him, but she didn't want to upset him if it didn't work, particularly on their last night. She couldn't imagine going back to Gordon now, and she was relieved that she and Gordon kept so much distance between them. She could hardly remember what it was like living with Gordon, she felt far more married to Bill.
“I want you to take care of yourself, my love,” he said, holding her close. They had switched his enormous neck brace to a smaller one, and he could move his head just a little bit. It allowed him to turn his head and look at her more easily, and all he could see now was the look in her eyes. Neither of them needed words for what they were feeling. They had come much farther than that. And now they had to go farther still. They had to learn to live without seeing each other every day, without touching each other, without her gentle hands on his shoulders when he was exhausted, or his arm around her when she fell asleep.
She couldn't imagine it, but she knew it would be all too real the next day as she stepped into the house on the rue de Grenelle. It broke her heart to think of leaving him.
“I can't do this,” she whispered softly as tears ran down her cheeks and she lay next to him. “I can't do it without you.”
“Yes, you can. I won't be any farther away than the phone.” But they both knew it would be different now. And she had an odd feeling about returning to Gordon. He had been so icy with her on the phone that she knew he was going to punish her for her transgressions, and being in the accident with Bill. As though what had happened that night hadn't been punishment enough. But she sensed correctly that he was furious about her being in the car with Bill, and all he assumed it had meant, and now did.
They lay there in silence for a long time, watching a full moon in the night sky. And morning came far too soon. They lay together for their last few minutes, and a nurse came in to remind Isabelle that she had to get up. She showered and dressed, and had breakfast with Bill. But neither of them could eat. They just sat looking at each other, as Isabelle choked on a sob, and then she held him in her arms, as he comforted her.
“It'll be all right, Isabelle. I'll call you tonight,” he said, steeling himself. “Don't cry, my love…” She sounded like a heartbroken child, and in many ways was. Leaving him was worse than leaving home. He was the only source of comfort and love she had.
Gordon had sent her some clothes from Paris: a plain black Chanel suit that hung on her now, and a pair of flat black leather shoes that felt too big. She had lost a lot of weight, and her body seemed to have changed. She was rail thin, but she looked more beautiful than ever to Bill. She was wearing her long dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, and no makeup, just lipstick. And seeing her that way reminded him of when they'd arrived in June, their first day when they'd gone out for lunch, and Harry's Bar that night. So much had happened, so many bridges had been crossed. It was incredible to think that they'd nearly died, and then found each other again. And now their dreams were about to end. They both had to go back into the real world, a world in which they could not be together, and in fact would be lifetimes apart.
“Take good care of yourself,” she said as she hugged him close. “Come back to me soon,” she whispered as he smiled through damp eyes. “And don't forget how much I love you.”
“Be strong, Isabelle…. I love you too,” he said, and feeling as though she were tearing herself away from him, she walked resolutely to the door, stopped, took a last look at him, and smiling through her tears, she left.
She thanked the nurses, said good-bye to both doctors who had come to say good-bye to her, and the nurse they had hired for the trip stood close to her in case she fell, and accompanied her to the elevator. And all the while, all she wanted was to run back into his room, to turn back the clock, all the way to the coma if necessary, anything to stay with him. She got into the elevator with her head bowed, and they could all see she was crying as they waved and the doors closed.
No one walked into Bill's room after she left, out of respect for him. No one saw him cry, or turn his eyes toward the ceiling with a look of anguish as he thought of her. If anyone had listened outside his door, they would have heard him sob for a time. It was a sound of dying hope, and lost dreams. It was the sound of a man who knew he would never see the woman he loved again. And when the nurses finally went in to check on him hours later, he had cried himself to sleep.
Chapter 12
The flight that Gordon's secretary had booked Isabelle on touched down at Charles de Gaulle shortly after two o'clock. She had no luggage with her, and only one small carrying bag, with her toiletries and a few books, and some pictures of her children and Bill. She had never gathered any real belongings at the hospital, and with a glance at her passport, the immigration officer waved her through. There was no one to meet her. Gordon hadn't come, and he hadn't told Sophie what flight her mother would be on.
By the time she got in the car Gordon had sent, she was amazed by how exhausted she was. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other. She knew that some of it was emotional, but it was also an enormous change for her to be out in the world again. The nurse escorted her through the airport in a wheelchair, as Isabelle sat quietly thinking of Bill. She'd tried to call him before they got in the car, but the nurses in London said he was asleep. She didn't
want to wake him up, and she had nothing to tell him anyway, except that she loved him and she hated being away from him. She was already lonely for him, and she wasn't even home yet. But she knew that once she arrived, she would be happy to see her children again.
The nurse said very little to her on the ride into Paris. They had hired her at the hospital, and she worked privately. She was booked on a flight to go back to London at six o'clock that night. She was just a baby-sitter for the ride, as Bill had said, and he thought it was a good idea since Gordon wasn't accompanying her. If Isabelle got dizzy, if she fell, if she got frightened or confused, it was better for her not to be alone. She had been very ill for a very long time and had sustained an enormous shock. The woman had asked her a few pertinent questions about the accident, she had read the chart anyway, and after a while she lapsed into silence, and on the plane she'd read a book.
Isabelle felt oddly depressed as they drove into town. It did not give her a thrill to see Paris again, and when she saw the Tour Eiffel, it meant nothing to her. She wanted to be on the other side of the English Channel, in the hospital with Bill. She forced herself to think of Teddy and Sophie as they reached Paris, and crossed onto the Left Bank. And it gave her a strange feeling of excitement suddenly when they turned onto the rue de Grenelle. All she could think of now were her children, she could hardly wait to see them again, and at the same time, she was aware of an overwhelming feeling of longing and sadness as she thought of Bill.
The huge bronze doors to the courtyard were standing open, waiting for her. The guardian was watching for the car, and as it drove into the courtyard, Isabelle looked up at the house. She couldn't see anyone. But the children's rooms faced the garden, just as hers did, and she didn't expect Gordon to be home at that hour. He had told her he'd be home at six o'clock, as he always was, he had a busy day scheduled at the office, and she had said she understood. There was more power for him in not being there than in picking her up or meeting her. It was his way of showing her that she did not control him and never would. And there was no one to welcome her as she stepped out of the car.
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