Authors: Danielle Steel
“I wish you would,” she said softly. But they both knew that wasn’t possible. He had a life in Paris, a medical practice he had invested years in, and children he loved. And she had a business to run here. They both knew that if they were to stay together, they would have to do what they were doing, travel to see each other as often as possible, and survive without each other in between. But after only two visits together, they were both already finding it excruciating to be apart. Jean-Charles wanted to be with her every day, as he was now, and it suited Timmie to perfection, far more than she had expected.
They lay around on the deck for hours that afternoon, soaking up the sun and talking. He dozed for a while, still on his Paris schedule and time zone, and she lay near him, watching him sleep, like a lion stretched out beside her. She could almost hear him purr. And as the air got chilly in the late afternoon, she covered him with a cashmere blanket until the sun went down, and then she woke him up and they went inside and lit a fire. They sat in the living room and talked. And Timmie tried to stay off the subject of their future, or when he would leave his wife. She didn’t want to pressure him about what he was going to do, or when he was going to do it. She trusted him completely. She asked him to tell her about his children.
“Julianne is very elegant and reserved, she’s very cool actually. She’s like her mother. She’s not as close to me as I’d like her to be. She’s like a cat. She’s a very aloof person. She watches everything and she observes. She sees it all. She’s seventeen and very wise for her years. She’s very close to her mother and sister, and not so close to Xavier. He’s six years older than she is, and he always thought the girls were a terrible nuisance when he was a little boy. They got into his things and broke everything, or made a mess in his room when they went in to play. And they always teased him when he brought girls to the house. He finally stopped bringing them there at all, which was probably a good decision.
“Sophie is fifteen and very cozy. She’s young for her age, in some ways, I think. Julianne is more sophisticated. She likes to dress up and wear pretty clothes. Sophie is more of a tomboy, sometimes, and at other times, she is all girl and female wiles when she winds me around her finger. She thinks Xavier is a hero, and I can do no wrong. But she and her mother don’t get along as well. I think it’s of the age. Julianne didn’t get along with her mother at fifteen either. Now they are conspirators, usually against me.” He smiled as he said it. It was obvious how much he loved his family, and how close he was to his children. Timmie loved him all the more for it, and was sorry she wasn’t younger. Had he come along earlier, she realized, she would have loved to have his baby one day, once they settled down with each other. It was an amazing thought she’d never had before, and she shared it with him that night when they were in bed. He said it touched him to the core. He would have loved to have their baby.
He looked at her tenderly then and asked her a question. “Is it still possible?” he asked gently, with interest and some concern.
“Possible, but not likely. I can’t imagine that would happen easily at my age. In fact, I’m almost sure it wouldn’t.” It made her sad, though, that she had wasted the last dozen years since Mark’s death. It had never occurred to her to have another child, until she met Jean-Charles. “Sometimes I used to think about adopting.” She told him about St. Cecilia’s then, and he was enormously impressed by all she did, and the obvious love she had for the orphans she was housing and supporting. “I think I haven’t done it,” she explained to herself as much as to him, “because I’ve been afraid to love anyone again. Not just a child, but even a man. It’s been easier to keep my distance.”
“And now?” he asked, as he held her close to him. “Are you still afraid?”
She took a moment to answer and pulled him closer to her, “No, I’m not. I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you,” she said tenderly, “except losing you. I don’t ever want to lose anyone I love again.”
“None of us wants that.” Still, they both knew that most people had more resilience in that area than she did. She had been through a lot in her life.
They talked about his children again, and other things. As they had before, they wandered through a variety of subjects, and always wound up making love, and then sleeping, and making love again. It never seemed to stop, and at four that morning, she teased him about it, when he wanted to make love again. She told him that he had obviously been lying and was a lot younger than he’d said. No man his age could possibly make love as often as he did. But apparently, he could. She accused him of having magical powers, which pleased him. And after they made love that time, they walked out onto the deck in bathrobes she had brought from the city. They lay on the deck chairs, holding hands, and looked up at the stars. It was the most perfect moment she could remember in a very long time, maybe in her entire life.
And then at last they fell asleep in each other’s arms again, and this time slept until nearly noon. She made tea and croissants for them, and then they took a long walk down the beach.
In the end, they stayed in Malibu for four days. Jean-Charles loved it so much that he didn’t want to leave. He was having a wonderful, peaceful, loving time in Timmie’s world. He felt like he was in a cocoon, and had never been as comfortable in his life. He almost hated to go back to Bel Air, but he wanted to get at least a little feel of her L.A. life too. So they went to restaurants and antiques shops, went on long walks, and had cappuccino at a coffeehouse she knew. And they swam in her pool. They also sat in the hot tub for hours, and in her gigantic marble tub at night. They seemed to be spending most of their time either in bed, or in some form of water, almost like the womb. They had become twins of the soul.
And as it had the last time they got together, the last night came too soon. They lay in her big comfortable bed, talking about what a good time they’d had and when they were going to get together again. It was even more amazing for them to realize that their passionate love affair had only begun a month before. It already felt to both of them as though they had been together forever. They had talked about everything from their childhood fears and griefs, to having babies, to their future. The babies weren’t going to happen, but they both hoped the future was. All in due time, as Jean-Charles said to her whenever the subject came up.
She drove him to the airport the day he left, and they both looked somber. The week had allowed them to become even more attached to each other. They had developed a daily routine of things they liked to do. She knew what he liked to eat for breakfast and lovingly fixed it for him. They spent hours making love, and giving each other endless pleasure. They were learning each other’s needs and habits, secrets, histories, tender spots, and private ancient terrors. There seemed to be almost nothing left that they didn’t know about each other. They had come incredibly far in a very short time. And now they had to part again, and learn to live without each other until they met again. It was like learning to live without a limb, or the use of both hands. Just as it had been last time, they suspected it was going to be a huge adjustment again, after they left each other, and neither of them was looking forward to it. It was so painful being apart. Their love for each other in the last week had been plentiful and lavish. The time they had spent together had been a gift they both believed came from God.
The only unreality in the time they shared was that while Jean-Charles was there, Timmie never even called her office. Her instructions to them had been not to call her unless the building had burned down. For anything short of that, she didn’t want to be bothered. She wanted her every waking moment to be his. So he had no real sense of how hard she worked or what she did with her time when he wasn’t there. But Timmie thought it was better that way. She wanted her entire being and all her time focused on him while he was with her, and he loved it. So did she. She didn’t want to be the CEO of Timmie O while she was with him. All she wanted to be with Jean-Charles was the woman who loved him. And that suited him just fine. In fact, it pleased them both. She felt like more of a woman with him than she had ever felt in her entire life.
Watching him check his bags in at the Air France counter, and get his boarding pass, was agonizing. She looked at him mournfully as he put his passport away. They lingered in the terminal together, and then went back outside for a few minutes. And finally, they had no choice. He had to thread his way through the security lines, and pass through the checkpoint to go to the gate. And she couldn’t go with him. He stood and held her for a long, long time, kissing her, holding her, loving her, and hating to leave her. As always when she said goodbye to someone she loved, and more so than had ever been the case before, since her childhood, she felt like a child that was being abandoned. Even though she knew she would see him again, hopefully soon, it felt like a tragedy to her each time he left her. There was always a silent voice of terror asking herself how she would survive it if he didn’t come back. He knew that about her now, and promised her again and again that he would. She believed it, but seeing him leave hurt anyway.
“I love you,” he whispered for a last time, just before he went through the X-ray machine that would separate him from her. Even though she could still see him, she would no longer be able to touch him. Their inexorable separation had begun.
“I love you so much too … let’s get together again soon …” She didn’t see how he could come back to California. It was hard for him to be able to take a week off from his practice. This had been a rare gift, and they both knew it.
“When can you come back to Paris?” he asked, feeling almost the same panic she did at leaving each other. His life without her was so bereft and empty. He could hardly bear it.
“I’ll try to come back soon,” she promised, and meant it. She could easily find some excuse. And in truth, she didn’t need one. All she had to do was shift her schedule around and get on a plane. The problem in Paris was that he had not yet moved out of the apartment he shared with his children and wife, so Timmie could obviously not stay with him. And he felt awkward staying at the hotel with her, in case someone recognized them and he compromised her reputation, since he wasn’t separated yet. They had talked about finding some other solution, like a borrowed apartment, until he moved out and got a place of his own. It wouldn’t be long. They had vowed to figure out something. And suddenly he wanted her as part of his everyday life, hence wanting her in Paris.
“We’ll see,” she said, and then he kissed her again, and finally they managed to pull away with a nearly superhuman effort, and he walked through the X-ray machine with a grim expression. And when he got to the other side, he stood smiling at her. She knew it was silly, but it touched her to note that they both had tears in their eyes. They were both wonderfully silly, sentimental, and romantic. But they were perfectly matched in that too. They seemed to be perfectly matched in everything they thought, or touched, or did. It was truly amazing. They were both convinced there was God’s hand in this, which, as she pointed out to him, was much better than computer dating. This choice, they both felt sure, had been made for them by God.
He waved to her as he walked away, and shouted back to her that he loved her, and she did the same. And then he had to turn down a hall, which would lead him to his gate, and she could no longer see him. He was gone. It was a feeling of loss and emptiness beyond belief, almost beyond bearing.
Once he was gone, she walked back to the garage, and got in her car, and just sat there for a long moment. She could still smell his aftershave in the air, and feel his skin on hers, almost as though he were a ghost of some kind who would not leave her. And then slowly, thinking of all they had shared in the past week, she started her car. And drove home to the house that had been their nest for a week, the bed that had been their cocoon and where they had made love. Everything about her house seemed permeated by him now. She had no idea when he would come back again, but she knew perfectly, without question, that she was his, and this was home for both of them. Jean-Charles had put his own special stamp on her house, just as he had on her, since they fell in love in Paris. She was his woman now.
Chapter 16
Three weeks passed while Timmie and Jean-Charles called each other constantly, said how much they loved each other, and sent many e-mails a day. They still had no firm plan to meet again, and both of them were going crazy, like hungry lions in a cage with no set dinner plans.
Jade and David had noticed easily how unhappy she was these days, how anxious to spend time on the phone, or write to him. When Jade or David told her he was on the line, she flew. All her attention was directed toward him. Her only goal now was to see him. And at the same time, just as she was desperately lonely without him, she also had the comfort of knowing that he adored her, and was just as anxious to work it out as she was. Timmie felt in her bones that they would. They just hadn’t figured it out yet. But they were both sure they would find a way to be together a good part of the time, once he moved out in June.
In the meantime, they were both living for their next visit. There had been a very serious epidemic of some kind of flu in Paris, supposedly a strain that had come from North Africa, and Jean-Charles had his hands full with countless patients who were sick. They talked morning and night, and she was still trying to figure out how to get away, when problems erupted in the factory in New Jersey again. The union was threatening a wildcat walkout, and many of her employees wanted her to dump the union. She was tempted, although it would give them dangerous ammunition to use against her, which she didn’t like. She preferred to try to pour oil on troubled waters again, even if it cost them. And while she was figuring out a negotiating plan, along with her lawyers, one of the biggest department stores they sold to wanted to triple their orders, which presented yet another problem with production.