Honor Thyself (12 page)

“We'll take her to the best doctors in the world,” Jason reassured her, and he meant it.

Stevie was worried about it too. She continued to have conversations with Carole, while her friend and employer looked blank. She smiled once in a while at the things Stevie said, but there wasn't even a spark of memory for who Stevie was in her eyes. Smiling was new for her. And laughing was too. It frightened Carole the first time she did it, and she instantly burst into tears. It was like watching a baby. She had a lot of ground to cover, and hard work ahead. The speech therapist was working with her. They had found a British one who pushed Carole hard. She told Carole her name and asked her to repeat it many times. She hoped that the patterning would cause a spark, but thus far nothing did.

On Thanksgiving morning Stevie told her what day it was and what it meant in the States. She told her what they would have at the meal, and Carole looked intrigued. Stevie hoped it had jolted her memory, but it hadn't.

“Turkey. What's that?” She said it like she'd never heard the word before, and Stevie smiled.

“It's a bird we'll eat for lunch.”

“Sounds disgusting,” Carole said, making a face, and Stevie laughed.

“Sometimes it is. It's a tradition.”

“Feathers?” Carole asked with interest. It was down to basics. Birds had feathers. She remembered that much at least.

“No. Stuffing. Yum.” She described the stuffing to her, as Carole listened with interest.

“Hard,” she said then, as tears filled her eyes. “To talk. Words. Can't find them.” She looked frustrated for the first time.

“I know. I'm sorry. They'll come back. Maybe we should start with dirty ones. Maybe that would be more fun. You know, like
shit, fuck, ass, asshole
, the good ones. Why worry about
turkey
and
stuffing
?”

“Bad words?” Stevie nodded, and they both laughed. “Ass,” Carole said proudly. “Fuck.” She clearly had no idea what it meant.

“Excellent,” Stevie said with a loving look. She loved this woman more than her own mother or sister. She truly was her best friend.

“Name?” Carole asked, looking sad again.
“Your
name,” she corrected. She was trying to stretch herself. The speech therapist wanted her to speak in sentences, and most of the time she couldn't. Not yet.

“Stevie. Stephanie Morrow. I work for you at home in L.A. And we're friends.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it, and then she added, “I love you. A lot. I think you even love me too.”

“Nice,” Carole said. “Stevie.” She tried out the word. “You are my friend.” It was the longest sentence she'd formed so far.

“Yes, I am.”

Jason walked in then to give Carole a kiss before their Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel. The kids were at the Ritz getting dressed, and had gone swimming again that morning. Carole looked up at him and smiled.

“Ass. Fuck,” she said, and he looked startled, and then glanced at Stevie, wondering what had happened, and if Carole was losing it again. “New words.” She smiled broadly.

“Oh. Great. That should be useful.” He laughed and sat down.

“Your name?” she asked. He had told her before, but she had forgotten.

“Jason.” For a moment he looked sad.

“Are you my friend?”

He hesitated for a moment before he answered, and tried to sound normal and somewhat casual when he did. It was a heavy moment, and indicated again that she remembered nothing of her past. “I was your husband. We were married. We have two children, Anthony and Chloe. They were here yesterday.” He sounded tired, but mostly sad.

“Children?” She looked blank, and then he realized why.

“They're big now. Grown-ups. They are our children, but they're twenty-two and twenty-six years old. They've been here to visit you. You saw them with me. Chloe lives in London, and Anthony lives in New York, and works with me. I live in New York too.” It was a lot of information for her all at once.

“Where do I live? With you?”

“No. You live in Los Angeles. We're not married anymore. We haven't been for a long time.”

“Why?” Her eyes dove deep into his as she asked. She needed to know everything now, in order to find out who she was. She was lost.

“That's a long story. Maybe we should talk about that another time.” And neither of them wanted to tell her about Sean. It was too soon. She didn't even know she'd had him, she didn't need to know she had lost him two years before. “We're divorced.”

“That's sad,” she said. She seemed to understand what
divorced
meant, which Stevie found intriguing. She got some concepts and words, and others seemed to be completely gone. It was odd what was left.

“Yes, it is,” Jason agreed. And then Jason told her about Thanksgiving too, and the meal they were going to have at the hotel.

“Sounds like too much food. Sick.” He nodded and laughed.

“Yeah, you're right, it is. But it's a nice holiday. It's a day to be thankful for good things that have happened, and the blessings we have. Like you sitting here talking to me right now,” he said with a tender look. “I'm grateful for you this year. We all are, Carole,” he said as Stevie started to leave the room discreetly, but he told her she could stay. They had no secrets from each other these days.

“I am thankful for both of you,” she said, looking at the two of them. She wasn't sure who they were, but they were good to her, and she could sense their love for her flowing toward her. It was palpable in the room.

They chatted with her for a while, and a few more words came back to her, most of them related to the holiday. The words
mince pie
and
pumpkin pie
sprang out of nowhere, but she had no idea what they were. Stevie had only mentioned apple pie to her, because the hotel couldn't do the others. And then finally, Stevie and Jason got up to leave.

“We're going back to the hotel to have Thanksgiving dinner with Anthony and Chloe,” Jason explained with a gentle look at Carole as he held her hand. “I wish you were coming with us.” She frowned when he mentioned the hotel, as though trying to pull something elusive out of her mental computer but it just wouldn't come.

“What hotel?”

“The Ritz. It's where you always stay in Paris. You love it. It's beautiful. They're making a turkey dinner for us in a private dining room.” They had a lot to be grateful for this year.

“That sounds nice,” Carole said, looking sad. “I can't remember anything, who I am, who you are, where I live… the hotel… I don't even remember Thanksgiving, or the turkey or pies.” There were tears of sorrow and frustration in her eyes, and seeing her that way tore at their hearts.

“You will,” Stevie said quietly. “Give it time. It's a lot of information to try and get back all at once. Go slow,” she said with a loving smile. “You'll get there. I promise.”

“Do you keep your promises?” she asked, looking Stevie in the eye. She knew what a promise was, even if she didn't remember the name of her hotel.

“Always,” Stevie said, holding up her hand in a solemn oath, and then ran two fingers in an X across her chest, as Carole broke into a smile and spoke in unison with her.

“Cross my heart! I remember that!” she said victoriously. And Stevie and Jason laughed.

“See! You remember the important stuff, like ‘Cross my heart.’ You'll find the rest,” Stevie said with a loving look.

“I hope so,” Carole said fervently, as Jason kissed her forehead and Stevie squeezed her hand. “Have a nice dinner. Eat some turkey for me.”

“We'll bring you some tonight,” Jason promised. He and the children were planning to come back after the meal.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Stevie said as she leaned down to kiss Carole's cheek. It was a little strange doing it because to Carole, Stevie was a stranger now, but she did it anyway, and Carole caught her hand in her own as she did.

“You're tall,” she said, and Stevie grinned.

“Yes, I am.” She was taller than Jason, in high heels, and he was over six feet. “So are you, but not as tall as I am. Happy Thanksgiving, Carole. Welcome back to the world.”

“Fuck,” Carole said with a grin, and they both laughed. There was a spark of mischief in her eyes this time, and along with deep gratitude for the fact that Carole was awake and alive, she could only hope that Carole would once more be herself, and that the good times would come again. Jason had already left the room by then, as Stevie grinned at her.

“Fuck you,” Stevie said. “That's a good one to know too. Very useful.”

Carole smiled broadly and looked into the eyes of the woman who was her friend and had been for fifteen years. “Fuck you too,” she said clearly, and both women laughed, as Stevie blew her a kiss and left the room. It wasn't the Thanksgiving any of them had expected to have, but it was the best one of Stevie's life. And maybe Carole's too.

Chapter 7

M
atthieu came to see Carole on Thanksgiving afternoon, by sheer happenstance, while her family and Stevie were having their Thanksgiving meal at the hotel. He had been cautious about coming to visit her. He didn't want to run into them. He still felt awkward about that, whatever the circumstances now. And things had been so desperate at first, he didn't want to intrude on them in the midst of their shock and grief. But he had read in the newspaper that she was awake and doing better, so he had come again. He couldn't resist.

He walked slowly into the room and looked at her, drinking her in. It was the first time he had seen her awake. And his heart leaped as he saw her. There wasn't even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He wasn't sure at first if it was due to the distance of time, or the blow to her head. But after all they'd meant to each other, he couldn't imagine that she didn't remember him. He had thought of her every day. It was difficult to believe that, in her normal state, she wouldn't do the same, or at least recall his face.

She turned toward him with surprise and curiosity as he walked into the room, and didn't remember ever seeing him before. He was a tall, handsome white-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a serious face. He looked like a person of authority, and she wondered if he was a doctor.

“Hello, Carole.” He was the first to speak. He spoke to her in heavily accented English, unsure if she still remembered her French, which for now she didn't.

“Hello.” It was obvious that she didn't recognize him, and it nearly broke his heart, given all they'd felt for each other. She looked blank. “I've probably changed a lot,” he said. “It's been a long time. My name is Matthieu de Billancourt.” Nothing registered on her face, but she smiled pleasantly at him. Everyone was new to her now, even her ex-husband and kids, and now this man.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked clearly, and he shook his head. “Are you my friend?” she said carefully, although realizing full well that if not, he wouldn't be there. But it was her way of asking him if she knew him. She had to rely on others for that information. But he was startled by the question. Just seeing her again, he was in love with her. For her, there was nothing left. He couldn't help wondering what she had still felt for him before the accident. But clearly, nothing now.

“Yes… yes… I am. A very good friend. We haven't seen each other for a long time.” He readily understood that her memory had not returned, and he was careful about the information he gave her. He didn't want to shock her. She still looked very frail, propped up in the big hospital bed. He didn't want to say too much because her nurse was in the room. He didn't know if she spoke English, but he was cautious just in case. And he couldn't tell secrets anyway to a woman who didn't remember ever seeing him before.

“We knew each other when you lived in Paris.” He had brought her flowers, and handed the large bouquet of roses to the nurse.

“I lived in Paris?” It was news to her. No one had mentioned that to her yet. There was so much she didn't know about herself it frustrated her constantly. He could see it in her eyes. “When?” She knew she lived in Los Angeles now, and had lived in New York with Jason, but no one had mentioned Paris.

“You lived here for two and a half years. You left fifteen years ago.”

“Oh.” Carole nodded, and asked no more questions, she just watched him. There was something in his eyes that rattled her, it was like something she couldn't reach, but could see in the distance. Carole wasn't sure what it was, if it was good or bad. There was something about him that was very intense. She wasn't frightened by it, but she felt it, and couldn't identify the feeling by name.

“How do you feel?” he asked politely. It seemed safer to talk about the present than the past.

Carole thought about it for a long time, looking for the word, and then found it. The way he spoke to her, like an old friend, she had a sense that she knew this man well, but wasn't sure. It was a little like Jason, but different. “Confused,” she said in answer to his question about how she felt. “I don't know anything. Words. I can't find them. Or people. I have two children,” Carole said, still looking surprised. “They're grown up now,” she explained, as though reminding herself. “Anthony and Chloe.” She looked proud that she remembered their names. She was retaining all they told her. It was a lot to absorb.

“I know. I knew them. They were wonderful. And so were you.” She was still as beautiful as she had been. It was amazing to him how little time had touched her, although he noticed the scar on her cheek and didn't mention it. It looked very fresh to him. “You will remember. Things will come back to you.” She nodded, but looked unconvinced. There was still so much missing and she was well aware of it.

“Were we good friends?” she asked him, as though searching for something. Whatever it was, she couldn't access it. She couldn't find him in her head. Whatever he had been to her was gone, along with all the other details of her life. Her mind was a clean slate.

“Yes, we were.” They sat in silence then for a little while, and finally, he cautiously approached the bed and gently took her hand in his. She let him, not knowing what else to do. “I'm very glad that you're getting better. I came to see you while you were still asleep. It's a great gift that you're awake.” She knew it was to the others too. “I've missed you, Carole. I thought about you for all these years.” She wanted to ask him why, but didn't dare. It sounded too complicated for her. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel anxious. She couldn't identify the feeling, but it was very different from the way Jason looked at her, or her children. They seemed much more direct. There was something hidden about this man, as though there was much he wasn't telling her but saying it with his eyes. It was hard for her to read.