“He died three months ago. He caught a very bad flu. I'm sorry you never met him,” she said sadly, fighting to keep her composure. She had no intention of burdening him with her grief, but she thought he should know.
“I'm sorry too,” he said softly, looking stricken for her. For a moment, he was overwhelmed by the blow he knew it must have been for her, and his own guilt for not being there for her at the time. “Are you all right?” He wanted to reach out to her, and put his arms around her, but he didn't dare. It was embarrassing too to have been caught in his lies, and to have her see him in his chair. He had been so convinced their paths would never cross again, and she would never know.
“Not yet, but I will be eventually. I miss him a lot. I miss you too.” Her voice was soft and sad. “How are you?” She wanted to ask if he missed her, if he regretted what he'd done, but he seemed anxious to move on. She knew that the senator was waiting for him. But this was her only chance.
“I'm fine. Better than ever. I'm back at work. The election is three days away.” He glanced at his watch then. They were an hour late for their next stop, and he looked at Isabelle apologetically, but there was no sign that he wanted anything from her. “I've really got to go.”
“I still love you, Bill,” she said, feeling desperately vulnerable, but this was why she had come. She wanted him to know. “I don't give a damn that you can't rollerblade or dance. I'm not a great dancer anyway, I never was.”
He smiled at her nostalgically for what seemed like an eternity, and then reached out and touched her hand. “Are you serious that you came here to see me?” His voice was gentle, it was the voice she remembered too well, and had for a long time. All she could do was nod as tears filled her eyes, and then she recovered, as a few stray tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away with a gloved hand.
“I saw you on CNN yesterday, and I thought I knew why you lied to me. I wanted you to know I don't care.”
“I know you don't,” he said softly, “you never did. But I do. That's what matters. I would never let you do that to yourself. I love you too much to let you destroy your life by being saddled with this,” he glanced down at his chair. “Even if you left Gordon one day, especially then. Is he treating you decently?” He had looked around for him at first, and realized he wasn't there. She had obviously eluded him somehow, or left him at the hotel.
She smiled at his question. “I used the ammunition on him, as you told me to, when Teddy died. He threw me out. Sophie and I have an apartment on the rue de Varenne.” A great many changes had happened in both their lives. But it didn't change the way he felt, or the decision he'd made. In fact, seeing her strengthened it. She was free now, and she deserved a lot more than he had to give, or so he thought.
“I'm glad you're okay.” But he refused to say more.
“I know you have to go,” she said, brushing the snowflakes away from her eyes, “I'm at the Four Seasons Hotel. If you'd like to talk, give me a call.”
All he did was shake his head. There were snow-flakes all over his hair, and she realized he must be cold. “I won't call you, Isabelle. We did the right thing five months ago. I did the right thing. For both of us. We have to live by it now.”
“I don't agree with you, it was entirely the wrong thing. For both of us. We have a right to love each other, Bill. And even if you stay out of my life, I won't stop loving you. I never will.”
“You'll forget eventually,” he said, and she shook her head and stepped aside. He looked at her long and hard. “Take good care of yourself.” He wanted to tell her again he was sorry about Teddy, but he didn't. There was nothing more he could say. He just wheeled himself the rest of the way down the ramp, without looking back at her, and got into the car. He apologized to the senator for the delay, and said he had run into an old friend. He didn't say another word all the way to their next stop, and the senator sensed the somberness of his mood. He seemed a million miles away.
It was after midnight when Bill got home, and he didn't call her. It was too late, and he had told himself again that he never would. He believed in what he'd done for her and knew it was the loving thing to do. If he had loved her any less, he would have inflicted himself on her, but he loved her far too much to do that, and knew he always would. He was heartbroken for her about her boy, he knew how much Teddy had meant to her, and he could only imagine how devastating his death had been to her. He was relieved at least to know that Gordon was out of her life. He felt certain she'd find someone else soon. He had never seen her look as beautiful, or as sad, as she had standing there in the snow. It was all he could think of as he lay in his bed that night.
The snow was still falling as Isabelle sat in her hotel room and thought of him. And she knew now that he would never call her again. Everything she had seen in his face had spoken of his resolve not to get involved with her again. Only his eyes told her he still cared. She had to accept it now. Even if he had lied to her, this was what he wanted in the end. She had been right months before, there were no happy endings. There were only lessons and losses, and she had had a lot of those.
She was awake most of the night, and when she fell asleep at last, she was dreaming of him. She was in a deep sleep when the phone rang at her bedside at four A.M. It was Bill. Even wrapped in the mists of sleep, she would have known his voice anywhere.
“I'm sorry to call you so late. Were you asleep?” He sounded as tormented as she had felt before she finally went to sleep.
“Just.” She was wide awake the moment she heard his voice. He sounded so agonizingly familiar to her, and then she thought of something. “Where are you?” she asked softly, and heard him hesitate.
“Downstairs. In the lobby of your hotel. I'm as crazy as you are, but I didn't know when you were leaving, and I have to be in New York tomorrow. I thought if you really came all the way from Paris, maybe we should talk.” The insanity of the hour didn't seem to bother either of them.
“I'm glad you're here. Why don'tyou come upstairs?”
She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, and splashed some water on her face while she waited for him to come up. Five minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Bill was looking at her from his chair, and wheeled slowly in as she held the door open for him, and then closed it softly behind him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't dare.
“I'm sorry to come here at this hour, Isabelle. I couldn't sleep. It was a shock seeing you there tonight. And kind of a crazy thing for you to do.” But he didn't look unhappy about it, he was touched, but upset about it too. It had awakened a myriad of barely sleeping feelings that he had spent months trying to flee. And then seeing her there outside the Kennedy Center in the snow brought it all back to him. “I'm so sorry about Teddy. What happened?”
She sat down on the couch facing him, and told him briefly about her son's final days. There was a catch in her voice as she talked about it, and her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and then she brushed away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. Without thinking, he held out a hand and touched hers.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
She smiled through her tears. “Me too. Other people say it's a mercy for him, and I suppose it is, but he had some happy moments too. And I miss him so much. I never realized how much of my life revolved around him. I don't know what to do with myself now that he's gone, and Sophie is away at school.”
“It'll take time to adjust. You'll get used to it. It's an enormous change for you.” Everything had changed about her life, her home, the divorce, the death of her son, losing Bill. She had done nothing but face agonizing changes in the past year. And so had he. “I don't know what to say to you,” Bill said, looking unhappy. “I never thought we'd see each other again. I didn't think we should. I didn't think I had a right to ruin your life, Isabelle. You deserve so much more than I can offer. You need someone wonderful in your life, someone whole … not someone like me.”