A few minutes after Gordon left, she picked up the phone and dialed London. And when the switchboard answered, she asked to speak to Bill. He sounded depressed when he answered, and as soon as he heard her voice at the other end, he beamed.
“I was lying here thinking about you,” he said easily, and his tone was in sharp contrast to the greeting she'd had from Gordon. “How are the children?”
“Wonderful,” she smiled just hearing him. He sounded like a husband on a trip checking how her day was. “They were so happy to see me. Poor Sophie looks exhausted.”
“How's Teddy?”
“Very thin. He's getting fevers again. But he seemed a bit better tonight. I'm going to spend the day with him tomorrow.”
“Don't overdo it. You're not up to full speed yourself yet.”
“I know, sweetheart. How was your day?” It had been awful, as far as he was concerned, but he didn't say that to her. He'd been lonely all day after she left, but he knew he had to get used to it. All they had now were phone calls. Just like the old days. But after nearly two months of living together, the phone calls seemed like so little to both of them. They both longed for the warmth and closeness they had shared.
“It was all right,” he lied. “I missed you. They're trying to get me ready to leave next week. I feel like I'm going to boot camp.” He was going to the rehab center with the most rigorous program, because he thought they might get the best results. His future depended on it, and theirs. And in spite of what they had told him in London about his legs, he was hopeful. He still felt sure that in the States they might tell him something different. He had more faith in them.
They talked for a while about her homecoming, and the kids, and he had had a call from Jane that afternoon, which had cheered him up a little. And it was only at the end of the call that he asked her about Gordon.
“How was he?”
“He was Gordon. He came home late from the office, and he's out tonight. It doesn't matter.” She had left her heart with Bill in London, except for the part of her that belonged to her children. But there was nothing left for her husband. It was too late, and too much had happened over the years. Even if she never saw Bill again, she knew that it was too late for her and Gordon. All they had now was the shell of an empty marriage, the appearance of it, and not the substance.
“Does he seem angry at you?” Bill had been worried about it. He had seemed so angry to Bill during those first days in London.
“No, he doesn't. But he'd never show it. If he is, it'll come out sometime when I don't expect it. That's how he works. He saves things. The payback always comes later.” But she didn't have any sense of it. He seemed detached from her, but he had been for years. There was nothing different about it. It was all very much the same.
“I just don't want him taking it out on you because you were with me during the accident. I know he was very upset about it. With good reason.” And even better reason now, but he didn't know that.
“Did you talk to Cynthia?” she asked, trying to sound casual. She had noticed in London that his wife never called him. He had had several conversations with his lawyer in the hospital in London and had filed the divorce papers without telling Isabelle. “Jane said she's in Southampton. I'll see her when I'm in the hospital in New York.”
“I should hope so.” Isabelle was shocked at her lack of attention.
He promised to call Isabelle the next day then. She said she'd be home all day. It was easy for them now with only an hour's time difference between Paris and London. It would be harder when he was in New York, but Isabelle knew they'd manage just as they had for years. Bill told her he loved her when he hung up, and as she lay in her bed that night, in the house that was supposed to be her home, she felt as though she were in a strange place. She felt as though her home was with Bill in London.
She didn't hear Gordon come in that night, but she was sleeping soundly in her own room. And she ran into him in the hall the next day, when she was on her way to see Teddy. She had slept later than usual, and it was nearly nine o'clock when she got up. She was wearing a dressing gown, her face was washed and her hair combed when she saw Gordon, rushing toward the stairs with his briefcase. He didn't talk to her, but he waved as he ran down the stairs. He was talking on his cell phone, and a moment later she heard him drive out of the courtyard.
She and Teddy had a good day. She read to him a lot, lay on the bed next to him, and it reminded her a little of her time with Bill in the hospital in London. They read and talked and played games, and after lunch, he had a long nap, and after that the doctor came to see him. He found the boy vastly improved now that his mother was home, but as Isabelle walked the doctor out, he turned to her with an odd expression.
“You know he's deteriorating, don't you, Isabelle?” She had been afraid of that, but she thought it was only temporary. Now that she was home, she was going to put her full efforts into getting him back to the place where he'd been two months before, when she left for London. And she was sure she could do it. Sophie had taken good care of him while she was gone, but she didn't know all the tricks Isabelle did.
“He looks pale, and he's lost weight, but he seemed better this morning,” she said, looking hopeful.
“He's happier. But he's getting weaker. You have to face that. His heart function is getting worse, and his lungs were bad all summer.”
“What are you saying to me, Doctor?” She looked worried.
“That his body is struggling to keep up with him. As he gets bigger, his heart and lungs face an ever-greater challenge.”
“And a transplant?” she asked again.
“He would never survive it.” And without it, she knew his days were numbered. It was a lot to face so soon after she got home, and she was still frail herself. The doctor reminded her not to overdo it. “I'd like to see him gain some weight,” the doctor said, “and you too, Isabelle.” He was concerned about her. Her body had sustained a terrible shock, and she looked it.
“I'll work on it. We'll go on a fattening regime together.” She smiled, pensive about what he had just told her. It had been a hard summer for Teddy, for both of them, but now that she was home, she was determined to turn things around again, she felt sure she could.
“I'll come back to see him in a day or two, and if you have any problems, call me.”
But the problems she had were not related to Teddy. They were with Gordon. He came home looking sullen that night, and offered no explanation for it. He had dinner on a tray in his room, and did not come downstairs to dine with her. He never spoke to her, and never came into her room. And later that night, as she lay in her bed thinking about it, she heard him go out. She had no idea where he went when he went out at night, and she didn't see him again until the next morning. She ran into him when she went downstairs for breakfast. He was sitting in the dining room, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee. And for a long time, he didn't acknowledge her, until he put down the paper and finished his coffee. She had the impression he was angry at her, and she had no idea what she'd done to annoy him.
“Have you heard from your friend in London?” he asked her bluntly, and she was startled by the question. She didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to tell him Bill had called her twice the day before either.
“Yes, I spoke to him” was all she said. She was surprised to hear him mention Bill. He hadn't said a word about him on the day she came home, but now Gordon looked furious about him.
“Don't you think it's inappropriate for him to call you here, Isabelle? I would think he'd be embarrassed to. He damn near killed you.”
“The bus nearly killed both of us. It wasn't his fault.”
“If you hadn't been out with him, it wouldn't have happened. I don't imagine you'd like your children to know that you were out with another man when the accident occurred.” There was an implied threat that he would tell them, and she understood him. It was a warning.
“No, I wouldn't. But it wasn't
the way you make it sound. We were friends,” she said calmly, although her heart was pounding.
“Are you telling me the friendship is over?”
“I didn't say that. We went through a lot together.” She looked at her husband carefully. She knew how vindictive he could be, and she didn't want to start a war with him. She knew that if she did, he would win it. He always did. Gordon was all about power and control, and she knew he wasn't going to tolerate her crossing him. She didn't want to have a showdown with him, if she could possibly avoid it. “You have nothing to fear from him, Gordon. I'm home now.”
“That's not the issue. I'm telling you to leave that alone, Isabelle. You're taking a great risk if you make me angry. I wouldn't suggest it.”
“I have no desire to make you angry. I'm sorry that it created a very awkward situation.” She lowered her eyes as she said it.
“That's an interesting choice of words.” His eyes bored into her, and they were giving her a warning. “I'd say having you in a near-fatal accident while you were cheating on me is definitely ‘awkward.’”
“I wasn't cheating on you. I was having dinner,” she said softly.
“And dancing. You were out at two o'clock in the morning.” She didn't ask him where he'd been the night before, or where he went when he left the house late at night. She had never asked him. She wouldn't have dared. He had established early on in their marriage that he made the rules, and he was free to do what he wanted. He expected her to toe the line, and it was silently agreed between them that she was not to ask questions, or challenge his authority or his independence. The punishment for it would have been extreme if she'd dared. That much had always been understood between them. There had never been any pretense of equality in their marriage. He had never offered it or promised it, and he didn't intend to start now. She understood that too. The only thing that surprised her now was that she had always been willing to accept his authoritarian rule. She saw now that it was a dictatorship, not a marriage. “You're a married woman,” he reminded her, “and I expect you to behave that way. I hope you learned a lesson.” And what was that, she wondered. That she'd be hit by a bus if she dined with another man? She wondered what he'd do to her if he knew she was sharing a room with Bill in the hospital in London, or if someone had told him. He was making himself very clear to her. He was not going to tolerate anything other than exemplary behavior from her. Anything less than that would be punished, by silence, by threats, by rejection, by insults if necessary, or perhaps by banishment, maybe even without her children. And if he divorced her, she had no way of taking care of Teddy, which was the only thing that mattered to her.
“You're lucky I'm willing to forgive you. But if I discover that you're misbehaving, or that he's visiting you here, things are going to go very badly between us. And I suggest you tell him to stop calling.” But she knew she would never do that. Their calls were all she had now. There was certainly going to be no warmth or support from Gordon. He got up from the table then, picked up his briefcase, and walked out of the room. He had delivered his message, and she heard him leave for the office a moment later.
She sat in the dining room for a while, collecting her thoughts, and feeling shaken. She had wondered if he was going to punish her, and now she knew. She was a prisoner, a convict on parole, and if she broke the rules again, and he found out, God only knew what he would do to her. He might even divorce her and keep custody of Teddy. That would be her worst nightmare.
And she knew he was capable of making it happen. She wanted to call Bill, but she didn't dare. She waited for him to call her. He did, at noon, after his morning of physical therapy. He sounded tired, but in decent spirits, and he was happy to talk to her.
“Hi, baby, what are you up to?” he asked cheerfully, and as soon as she spoke to him, he could tell that something had happened. “What's wrong? You sound worried.”
“No, I'm fine,” she lied, and then broke down and told him when he pressed her. She told him about the exchange with Gordon that morning.
“He's just trying to scare you. Reign by terror.” Bill hated everything about him, and he realized now that Gordon had never come back to see her at the hospital to punish her and frighten her, and make her feel insecure and uncertain. What Gordon didn't know was that it had been a gift to her, and to them, and had turned out to be a blessing. “He can't do anything. He can't take Teddy.” He tried in vain to reassure her, but as they talked, he realized that Isabelle was genuinely afraid.
“The courts here favor the father. Maybe he could convince them I'm an unsuitable mother.” It broke Bill's heart to hear her sounding so worried. She had been upset about it all morning.
“How can he convince anyone you're ‘unsuitable’? By telling them you've spent fourteen years taking care of him night and day? Sweetheart, don't be silly. He's just trying to terrorize you, and he's succeeding.” It was an unfounded fear, but Gordon always frightened her. He seemed so all-powerful and all-knowing.
“He's very impressive.” And in her eyes, always had been.
“He doesn't impress me,” Bill said, sounding angry. He would have loved to confront him about how badly he treated his wife. Gordon Forrester was a bully. “Just try to ignore him, and go about your business.”
“That's what I'm doing.”
“Are you having dinner with him tonight?”
“I don't know. He never tells me.”
It drove Bill crazy to hear what she was going through, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He wished she would divorce him, but he knew she never would. She had too much at stake there, and she was too afraid of what he would do to her, and that was exactly what Gordon wanted. Bill tried to explain it to her, but she pointed out to him that she was entirely at his mercy. She had no money of her own, and she had a child who was an invalid, and needed extremely costly medical attention. Hearing her say it upset Bill terribly. He would have liked to marry her, and take care of the boy. But it was too late now, for the moment at least: He couldn't ask her to marry him if he was going to be an invalid. His hands were tied. And men like Gordon always found the right weapon to wield at their victims. In this case, it was fear. He wondered how long it had been like that, and how much abuse she had taken over the years. It seemed to be unlimited, the man had been allowed to run roughshod over her for years, and with her meeting Bill in London and getting exposed by the accident, she had loaded the gun for him. It was unfortunate that he had found out about it.
“Try to stay out of his way. And I'll call you.” He knew it was best if his phone number didn't appear on her bills. That would have been all Gordon needed. “Only call me if you absolutely have to,” Bill told her. “I'll call you.” She felt lonely and isolated as she realized the situation she was in. She was in disgrace, even more than he knew, and Gordon was prepared to exact the ultimate price for it. To the uttermost farthing.
They talked for a while, and he had to go back to therapy again. He promised to call her later in the afternoon, before Gordon came home from the office.
But this time he surprised her. Instead of late, he came home early. He came home at four o'clock, looking as though he expected to surprise her in some wrongdoing. But Bill had already called her. And she was stretched across Teddy's bed playing cards with him. Teddy had a passion for gin rummy. He liked to play solitaire too, but he much preferred to play games with his mother.
Gordon waved as he walked by the room, but he didn't stop to speak to the boy, or Isabelle. It was exactly the same behavior Sophie had seen all summer. It had given Sophie a new view of her father, and she didn't like it. She hated the way he would talk to her, and completely ignore Teddy, as though he were invisible or had never existed. The boy was inadequate in Gordon's eyes, and severely flawed, and he dismissed him. He wasn't worthy of his attention, and Teddy knew it. For years now, he had had absolutely no respect for his father, and little affection. Gordon showed him none at all, nor did he show Isabelle any, and hadn't for yea
rs. Sophie had only just begun to understand that. And Sophie commented on it later that afternoon, when she was visiting her mother before she went out for the evening again with friends.
“Why do you let him treat you that way?” Sophie accused her. She wanted her mother to stand up for herself, and was upset that she didn't. Although she had battled with her for years, Sophie was now potentially her strongest ally.
“He doesn't mean any harm by it, sweetheart. That's just the way he is.” Isabelle was always quick to defend him to the children, no matter how right they were when they complained about him. “He's not a demonstrative person,” she explained, and Sophie looked angry. She had learned a lot about him that summer, more than she wanted. It had destroyed all her illusions about her father. Her sympathies were now entirely with her mother. Isabelle had become a hero to her.
“He demonstrates indifference and rejection and meanness constantly. He's awful to you, and he doesn't care about Teddy,” Sophie said angrily.
“Of course he does, Sophie.” Isabelle looked nervous as she listened to what Sophie was saying, although she knew there was a great deal of truth to it.
“He only cares about himself. He doesn't care about me either.”
“He's very proud of you.” Sophie didn't challenge her about that, but she also didn't believe her.
“Even if he is, he has no right to treat you that way, or Teddy.” He was slightly better to Sophie than the others, but he had been less nice to her lately, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. He had never thanked her for the efforts she made, the opportunities she gave up, or the love she showered on her brother in their mother's absence. Sophie had come to see her father as a cold, hard, unfeeling, ruthless man, which was precisely what he was. It had gotten him a long way in business, but it definitely wasn't winning him any medals at home with his wife and children.
The Kiss Page 23
