Impossible

by Danielle Steel

  “I probably shouldn't take the time off right now, with a show coming up, but God, Sasha, I'd love it.” It sounded great to both of them. They had missed each other more than ever after their trip in Italy in May. She missed living with him. And there was lots for them to do in New York. “When are you going?”

  “In about ten days. I was going to ask you about it this weekend.”

  “Count me in. I'll come.” He was thrilled.

  “If you can spare the time, we could spend part of the month there,” Sasha suggested. They both loved the sound of it. Their trip to Italy had been a huge success, and hopefully this would be too, although a little different since Sasha had to work. “We could spend the Fourth of July in New York and then come back to Europe.”

  She was planning to work at the Paris gallery in July, and then leave on vacation with the kids in August. They were going to St. Tropez, which her children loved, and she had chartered a boat to entice them. Both of them were planning to bring friends, which was fine with her. The only part of it she didn't like was that she hated leaving Liam for three weeks. She had some vague plan to see if she could invite him on the boat for a weekend, as a “visiting artist,” but she wasn't sure yet if she could pull it off. Tatianna had a keen nose, and Xavier knew him. At her most devious, she thought of asking Xavier to invite him, but she didn't want to tempt fate. There was a distinct possibility, and it was more than likely, that she wouldn't see Liam for three weeks. But at least they'd have the rest of June in New York.

  They were both excited when they talked about it that weekend. He had lots of artist friends in New York, in Chelsea, Tribeca, and SoHo. And there were places and events where she wanted to take him. There hadn't been so much as a hint of his wild and wacky artist side since they'd gotten back together, and she was feeling confident about going out with him, particularly in New York, where her life was so much less stuffy and formal than it was in Paris. He was going to fit in perfectly in New York. And they were both looking forward to it.

  “Maybe,” she said wistfully, as they lay in bed on Sunday morning, “we could spend a few days at the house in the Hamptons. It's a beautiful place, and I used to love it.” In the twenty months since Arthur's death it had been too painful for her. Maybe now it would be different.

  “I like the Hamptons,” Liam said casually, and then went back to talking about going to the lake with his children. Sometimes he didn't listen. Sometimes he was just a boy. And sometimes he needed everything to be about him and only him. She knew it wasn't personal, or a sign that he didn't love her. She understood it now. It was just the way he was. No one had ever listened to him as a boy. And now he had Sasha to hang on his every word. He loved that about her. “I wish you could come to Vermont with me,” he said, as he rolled over in bed and looked at her nose to nose. Their lovemaking just before that had been as sweet as ever. It seemed to get better over time, although she found that hard to believe since it had been fabulous since the beginning.

  “You need to be alone with your children, to get reacquainted with them,” she said sensibly. He knew she was right. He was a little scared to see them. He knew that both of his sons were angry at him for staying away for so long. At six, Charlotte was just excited to see Daddy. He had talked to them a few days before on the phone. He hadn't even called them in months. Sometimes it just slipped his mind. Beth had always made excuses for him, and covered for him in his paternal lapses, but she wasn't willing to do that anymore. He also suffered from comparison to her fiancé, who was present and attentive to them. As a result, Liam had taken a hit for his year of absence. He had some serious repair work to do with them now, and he knew it. He was anxious to take it on. And thrilled to be spending the rest of June in New York with Sasha.

  “Will you go to a Yankees game with me, Sasha?” he asked, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling with a grin. He looked like a kid who could hardly wait to go to camp.

  “I'll do anything you want, within reason. I have to work, too. But I think we can manage to do both, work and play. And I want you to see the space where you're going to have your show.”

  “Mmmmm…,” he said, smiling at her. “You make me feel like a king.”

  “That's a good thing.” She smiled at him, nestling next to him. Sometimes he made her feel like a queen. And sometimes he made her feel like the Queen Mother.

  Chapter 11

  Liam flew to Paris on a Friday night, and they flew to New York together from Paris on Sunday morning. She had treated him to the ticket, and they settled into first-class seats side by side. He looked like a kid at a birthday party, and took advantage of everything they offered. Caviar, champagne, he ate his lunch and most of hers, reclined the seat into a bed, covered himself with the duvet, and took a nap. He even changed into the pajamas, and for a moment, wearing the plastic bag on his head like a hat, he showed distinct signs of slipping into his previous unruly behavior. He watched two movies, ate a snack, used everything in the toiletry kit, and invited Sasha to join the mile-high club in the bathroom.

  “I think we may have to sedate you for the next flight.” She grinned at him, after declining his offer to join the mile-high club. “We did that to Xavier once, because he always got airsick as a little kid. He had an adverse reaction to the medicine, and took off like a jet engine out of control. I've never seen a kid so hyper. After that, we just let him throw up on the flight till he outgrew it.” But she had never seen anyone enjoy a flight so much, or appreciate it as vocally, as Liam. He didn't stop thanking her from takeoff to landing.

  “I always thought it was normal to sit with my knees wrapped around my ears, and my neighbors' elbows in my chest. This is a hell of a lot better,” he said, looking ecstatic, as he laid the seat back again and stretched his legs out.

  He was still in great spirits when they went through customs in New York, and joked with everyone in sight. As usual, he made friends with all the flight attendants, most of whom Sasha knew and who knew her from previous flights. He called the customs inspector by his first name, and had an animated conversation about baseball with their skycap, while she located her car and driver. “Exuberant” didn't begin to describe it. But mostly he was just happy and grateful and excited to be there. And in spite of his acting like a spinning top, Sasha loved being with him.

  He calmed down finally when they got to her apartment. He was impressed by how elegant it was. He appreciated the quality of the antiques and was somewhat taken aback by her paintings. There was a Monet, two Degas, and a Renoir, a series of priceless Da Vinci drawings, and countless others he hadn't even seen yet. In many ways, her apartment in New York was far more formal than her wing of the house in Paris, which she had kept simpler and more modern when she redid it. New York showed the evidence of a lifetime of collecting important artists, most of which had been purchased by her father and given to her as gifts.

  “Wow, Sash… this is heavy stuff …” He stood in awe before a somber El Greco she had never liked, and kept in a hallway. She finally dragged him away long enough to show him her bedroom. She had a moment of hesitation herself, because she had never shared it with any man but Arthur. But it was time now. She was ready to open her doors and her life to Liam.

  She asked him to put his things in the guest room, just in case one of her children turned up at some point, and she didn't want to shock the maid who came to clean daily, and had during most of her marriage. Liam didn't seem put off by her asking him to do that. He dropped his bag in the room down the hall and then wandered into her bedroom with a dish of ice cream. He looked perfectly at home as he sprawled out in Arthur's favorite chair, flipped on the TV, and caught up on the baseball game in progress. And then he looked up at Sasha with the boyish grin that turned her knees to mush, and burst out laughing.

  “Boy, is this cool, Sash. I feel like I died and went to heaven.” He had grown up with money too, though perhaps not quite this much, but his family was prominent and solid. The only difference
was that they had always treated him like a misfit and an outcast because he was artistic and different from them. He felt completely at ease and welcome in her apartment, and lately in her life. It made all the difference in the world to him, and now to Sasha. They were both in high spirits and enjoying the relationship they shared.

  She suggested they go to a nearby restaurant that night. She checked in with Tatianna before they left, and as she had suspected, Tatianna was busy with friends, had a thousand plans that week, and told her mother she'd stop in to see her at the gallery when she had a free moment, more than likely on her lunch break. Sasha felt completely secure when she settled into bed with Liam that night. The housekeeper wasn't coming in till noon, and by then she and Liam would be long gone, she at the gallery, and he to visit his friends in SoHo. Their secret was safe here. And for all anyone would know, if discovered, Liam was nothing more exotic than a houseguest.

  Liam won her heart forever when he put an arm around her that night in bed and pulled her closer to him. Despite his own excitement to be there, he had seen her face earlier that day when they entered the room. He had a feeling that being there with him was hard for her, and brought back memories of the past.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered, lying close to her. She knew instantly that he understood, and she nodded.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I am… thank you for asking.”

  “I don't want to do anything that would offend you here. If you want, I'll sleep in the other room.” She looked up and smiled at him.

  “I'd miss you too much. You're fine here,” she said, and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss and not one that suggested she wanted anything more from him than the understanding he'd just given her. He kissed her just as gently and held her close to him, as they did nothing more than cuddle that night.

  She took him to the gallery the next day, and he was impressed by the space and the way they had used it. He liked the artist's work that they were showing, and squinted, imagining his own work in the same place. It was perfect for him, and now he had a better idea of how many pieces he'd need, how many horizontals and verticals. It was inspiring to him just being there. She introduced him to all her employees. Marcie, her assistant, nearly fainted when he sauntered in, and rolled her eyes in awe at Sasha behind his back.

  “Oh my God, he looks like a movie star,” she said breathlessly, as Sasha laughed. She hated to admit it, but sometimes he did. She liked it better when they were home in old worn clothes, with uncombed hair, looking a mess. Sometimes it was daunting being out with him, and it made her feel her age.

  “He's a nice guy, and a good artist,” Sasha said casually. “I'm glad we happened to be in New York at the same time. I think he's on his way to Vermont to see his kids.” Marcie nodded, impressed by him. Not only was he a hunk and talented, but he was even a good father. She had already idealized him after knowing him for five minutes. Sasha knew him better and was a little less dazzled by him than Marcie. She just loved him, clay feet and all. And like anyone else, he had them. So did she.

  He spent the morning at the gallery with her, meeting everyone, and looking around. He looked in the racks, went upstairs to see the classical work, and then left for SoHo to meet his friends. He whispered to Sasha that he would see her at the apartment later, and she nodded.

  Providentially, five minutes after he left, Tatianna walked in. She was on her way to pick up something from a photographer, and stopped in to see her mother. She looked happy and pretty as she always did and, as Sasha looked at her with new eyes now, extremely young. She was exactly the age of the women Liam always chatted with and admired. She had just turned twenty-four. Looking at her with a fresh perspective, Sasha felt ancient. She knew she was going to have to get over feeling that way if she and Liam were going to make it work. She had never thought about her age before, and now she was obsessed with it. Everyone else looked young to her. And she felt old.

  “Hi, Mom. How long are you here for?” Tatianna asked as she grabbed a piece of chocolate from a dish and kissed her mother.

  “A month, I think.” As always, Sasha was thrilled to see her daughter.

  “That's a long time.” Tatianna was surprised to hear it. In recent months, her mother never stayed in New York long. The apartment she'd shared with Arthur depressed her, and she always said she felt his absence more acutely here.

  “We're opening a show this month, I have to curate it, and I figured I'd stick around for a while. How's everything with you?”

  “Great. I just got a raise, my editor hates me, and I want her job.” Tatianna was on top of the world. She smiled as she looked at her mother, happy to see her.

  “That all sounds normal.” Her mother laughed.

  “See you soon, I gotta go now. I'm late. I just wanted to say hi.” She had a cab waiting outside, and blew out as fast as she blew in, taking a handful of chocolates with her, in lieu of lunch. Sasha kissed her quickly, and she was gone.

  Sasha had a busy day in the gallery, working on the new show. She curated their shows herself, and loved to do it. She had to tear herself away to meet Liam at the apartment at six o'clock. He was eating ice cream and pizza in the kitchen when she walked in, and kissed her on the mouth.

  “Mmmmm… delicious. What is it? Rocky Road?”

  “Fudge Brownie,” he corrected her. “I always forget how good the ice cream is in the States. In England, it tastes like shit.”

  “It's worse in France.” She smiled at him. “Gelato is good …” She sat down at the kitchen table and looked at him, it was nice to see him there at the end of a long day. He seemed right at home.

  “Gelato is for sissies,” he corrected. “This is the real thing. Have a piece of pizza, I'm taking you out.” She didn't want to tell him she was tired after a long day, and jet-lagged. He looked vibrant and full of life. He'd had a great day with his friends.

  “Where are you taking me? Do I need to change?” All she wanted was to fall into a hot bath and relax before going to bed. She was exhausted after hauling paintings and curating all day.

  “Yeah. Put on blue jeans,” he said, as he rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher. He was good about those things when he was with her. His own place was a total mess. He'd been living in his studio since Beth and the children left, and camped out in a sleeping bag on a cot. This was grand luxury for him. “I got tickets to a Yankees game,” he said victoriously. “I bought them from a friend.” He glanced at his watch. “We have to leave in ten minutes. The game starts at seven-thirty, and there might be traffic.” He had lived in New York years before, for about a year, and always forgot how much he loved it till he came back again. He loved the electricity and excitement, and the Yankees best of all.

  Sasha tried to look enthusiastic for his sake, and went to change. Once in a while, she wondered what she was doing with a man his age, who acted half his age. He needed someone like Tatianna, and instead he had wound up with her. She didn't bother with the pizza, but washed her face and combed her hair instead, and put on jeans and a white T-shirt and sandals. She pulled a shawl off a shelf, and ten minutes later was back in the kitchen. He was ready to go, wearing a Yankees cap he had brought with him from London.

  “Ready?” He smiled down at her ecstatically. He chatted with her elevator man on the way downstairs, and told him they were going to the game. They were playing the Boston Red Sox. And he said it was going to be a great game. The Yankees were on a winning streak, and he told the elevator man they were going to cream them.

  By the time they were in Yankee Stadium, Sasha was feeling better. The jet lag seemed to have receded again, he bought her a hot dog and a beer, and told her about both teams and the best players. He was a total fanatic about baseball, which Sasha thought was cute. It was a far cry from the stuffy dinner parties she didn't take him to in Paris. And actually, she liked this better. It was all new to her. She had never been to a baseball game in her life.

  While they waited for the game to start, she told hi
m she had seen Tatianna briefly that day, and he said he was looking forward to meeting her. Sasha couldn't help wondering how they'd get along. She hoped they would. It would make a difference in their relationship, she knew, if eventually her kids accepted him. She knew Xavier would, since they were friends, although she had no idea how he'd feel about Liam being involved with his mother. She worried about her daughter. Tatianna was unpredictable as to whom she liked, and whom she didn't. It was never an easy call, and she had stronger and far more critical opinions than her more easygoing brother.

  Liam explained everything that happened at the game to her, and the Yankees won, six to nothing. He was ecstatic, and chatted animatedly with her all the way back in the cab. They went to bed right afterward, and again didn't make love, and Sasha slept like a log. He was leaving for Vermont the next morning, to see his kids, and told her he'd be back in four days and would call her from Vermont. She dropped him off at Grand Central Station, and went to the gallery after that. She felt silly, but she missed him as soon as he left. He had promised to be back by the weekend. She was thinking of taking him to the Hamptons, depending on how she felt. It had taken a little adjusting to get used to having him in the bed she had shared with Arthur at the apartment, and Liam had been sensitive about it. She was sure he would be in Southampton too. She just didn't know how she would feel. Their bedroom in Southampton was where she had seen Arthur for the last time. It was a sacred place to her, and she wasn't sure Liam belonged there. Yet. Or maybe ever. She needed to feel her way along on that one, and was in no rush to decide.

  She was busier than she expected all week, went to several cocktail parties, had lunch with Alana, who was now happily married and spending every penny she could of her new husband's money, and saw Tatianna for dinner. Other than that, Liam had called her regularly to report on how he was doing with the kids. It had been difficult with his oldest son at first. Tom blamed Liam entirely for the divorce. Beth had finally told him the ugly details of the incident with Becky, and Liam was livid about it when he called Sasha. She told him to calm down and try to work it out with his son. It was better by the end of the week. They had spent a tearful night talking about it, and both father and son felt better in the morning. His twelve-year-old, George, had been happy to see him, but had developed a nervous twitch in the course of the year, and was on medication, which Liam thought he didn't need and wouldn't give him. He had called Beth about it, and she had threatened to pick them up at the cabin if Liam didn't give George his medication, so finally he did. And Charlotte was adorable and easy, thrilled to see her daddy, and the only mishap was that she fell off her bike and sprained her wrist. But other than that, everything had been fine. A typical weekend with kids, particularly kids he hadn't seen in a year. None of it surprised Sasha, although some of it shocked Liam. He had been in denial about the fallout of his absence during the entire time. Seeing them again woke him up.