Honor Thyself (18 page)

Matthieu had an air about him that said he had the right to do anything he wanted. He hesitated at nothing, expected people to listen to him, and do as he wished. Anthony remembered not liking that about him when he was a child. Matthieu had sent him to his room once for being rude to his mother, and Anthony had shouted at her that he wasn't his dad. Matthieu had apologized to him later, but Anthony could still sense his air of authority as he stood in the room, as though he belonged there. He didn't, and it was obvious to her son that Carole still had no idea who he was.

“I'll only stay a few minutes,” Matthieu said politely, as Anthony came to hug his mother again and looked fiercely protective of her. He wanted Matthieu out of her room, and life, forever.

“I'll see you soon, Mom,” he promised. “Take care. I'll call you from New York.” He said the last words glancing at Matthieu, and hated to leave him in the room with her. There wasn't much he could do to her, she didn't remember him, and there was a nurse with her at all times. But Anthony didn't like it anyway. He had left her life years before, after causing her immense pain. There was no reason for him to come back, at least in her son's eyes. And she was so vulnerable now. It tore at her son's heart.

Carole looked at Matthieu, after her son left the room, with a question in her eyes. “He remembered you,” she said, watching him. There was no mistaking the fact that her son disliked this man. “Why doesn't he like you?” She had to rely on others to supply the things she should have known herself, and more important, she had to rely on them to tell the truth, as Jason had. She admired him for that, and knew it had been hard. Matthieu looked far more guarded and less inclined to expose himself to her. She had the feeling that he was being cautious when he came to visit her. She had also seen the nurses react. It was obvious they knew this man, and more than ever, she wondered who he was. She wanted to ask Anthony about him when he called.

“He was a little boy when I last saw him,” Matthieu said with a sigh as he sat down. “He saw the world with a child's eyes then. He was always very protective of you. He was a wonderful boy.” She knew that much herself. “I made you unhappy, Carole.” There was no point denying it to her. The boy would tell her, although he didn't know the whole story. Only he and Carole did, and he was not yet ready to tell her. He didn't want to love her again, and was afraid he would. “Our lives were very complicated. We met while you were making a movie in Paris, right after your husband left you. And we fell in love.” He said it with eyes filled with longing and regret. He loved her still. She could see it in his eyes. It was different from what she saw in Jason's eyes. The Frenchman was more intense, and grim in some ways. He almost frightened her, but not quite. Jason had a warmth and gentleness Matthieu didn't. He affected her strangely. She couldn't decide if she was afraid of him, trusted him, or even liked him. There was an air of mystery to him, and smoldering passion. Whatever had existed between them years before, the embers had not yet gone out for him, and it stirred something in her as well. She couldn't remember him. But she felt something for him and couldn't identify what it was, if it was fear, or love. She still had no idea who he was, and unlike the nurses, she did not recognize his name. He was just a man who said that they had been in love. And like the others, she remembered him not at all. She had no sense of who he was, neither good nor bad. All she had were the unidentifiable feelings he aroused in her, which made her feel uncomfortable, but she had no idea why. None at all. Everything she had ever known or felt for him was beyond her reach.

“What happened after we fell in love?” Carole asked him as Stevie walked into the room, and seemed surprised to see him. Carole introduced them, and then with a questioning look Stevie walked out again, to wait in the hall. She told Carole she'd be nearby. It was comforting to Carole to know that she was. Although she knew he couldn't hurt her, she felt almost naked being alone in the room with him. His eyes never lost their grip on hers.

“Many things happened. You were the love of my life. I want to talk to you about it, but not now.”

“Why not?” His secretiveness worried her. He was holding back, which seemed ominous to her.

“Because there is too much to tell in a short time. I was hoping that you'd remember once you were conscious again, but I can see that you don't. I'd like to come another day, and talk to you about it.” And then he startled her by what he said next. “We lived together for two years.”

“We did?” She was stunned. “Were we married?” He smiled and shook his head. She was finding husbands everywhere. Jason. Sean. Now this man, who said he had lived with her. Not just an admirer, but a man she had obviously been committed to. No one had told her about him. Perhaps they didn't know. But clearly, Anthony did, and his reaction was not good, which said a lot to her. This had not been a happy story, and since they were not together, obviously had not ended well.

“No, we were not. I wanted to marry you, and you wanted to marry me. We couldn't. I had family complications, and a difficult job. It wasn't the right time.” Timing was everything. It had been the case with Jason too. It was all Matthieu wanted to say for now. He stood up then, and promised to come back. She wasn't sure she wanted him to. Perhaps this was a story she would rather not know. The room seemed filled with sadness and regret as he spoke, and then he smiled. He had eyes that dug down deep into her, and she remembered something about him, but she had no idea what. She didn't want him to come back, but didn't have the courage to say it. If he did, she was going to keep Stevie with her, to protect her. She felt as though she needed someone to shield her from him. He frightened her. There was something incredibly powerful about him.

He stooped to kiss her hand as she watched. He was formal in his manner, very proper, and yet at the same time very bold. He was in the room of a woman who didn't remember him, and yet he told her that they had loved each other, lived together, and wanted to get married. And when he watched her, she could sense the desire he still felt for her.

Stevie came back into the room as soon as he left.

“Who is that man?” she asked, looking uncomfortable, and Carole said she didn't know. “Maybe he's the mysterious Frenchman who broke your heart that you never talked to me about,” Stevie said with interest, and Carole laughed.

“God, they're really coming out of the woodwork, aren't they? Husbands, boyfriends, French mystery men. He said we lived together and wanted to get married, and I don't remember him any better than anyone else. Maybe in this case, it's nice having a clean slate. He seems a little odd to me.”

“He's just French. They're all a little strange,” Stevie said unkindly, “and so damn intense. That's not my style.”

“I don't think it's mine either. But maybe it was then.”

“Maybe that's who you lived in the little house with, the one you sold when I first came to work.”

“Maybe so. Anthony looked furious to see him. And he admitted he made me very unhappy,” Carole said with a pensive look.

“At least he's honest about that.”

“I wish I remembered some of it,” Carole said, looking ill at ease.

“Has any of it come back?”

“No. Absolutely nothing. The stories are fascinating, but it's like listening to someone else's life. From what I can gather, I worked way too hard and was never at home with my husband. I lost him to a twenty-one-year-old supermodel who dumped him after he dumped me. Apparently, right after that, I fell in love with this Frenchman, who made me miserable and whom my son hated. And then I married a lovely man who died way too young, and now here I am.” There was a spark of humor in her eyes as she said it, and Stevie smiled.

“Sounds like an interesting life. I wonder if there was anyone else?” She sounded almost hopeful, and Carole looked horrified.

“I hope not! This is already way too much for me. I'm worn out thinking about these three. And my kids.” She was still worried about Chloe and what she felt her daughter hadn't gotten and still needed from her. That was her first priority for now. Jason was no longer an issue although she loved him, Sean was gone, and whoever the French man was, she had no interest in him, other than curiosity about what he'd meant to her. But she somehow suspected she was better off not knowing. It didn't sound good to her. She didn't want painful memories to add to the rest. The story Jason had told her of their life was enough. She could well imagine that she had been devastated at the time. And then the Frenchman had made her unhappy too. It must have been an awful time in her life, it was easy to figure that much out. Thank God for Sean. The reviews on him seemed to be unanimously good. And she'd lost him too. It didn't sound to her as though she'd been lucky with the men in her life, only her kids.

Stevie got her out of bed then, with the help of the nurse. They wanted her to practice walking.

She was amazed at how hard it was. It was as though her legs had forgotten how to do their job. She felt like a toddler as she stumbled and fell, and had to learn how to pick herself up. And then finally her motor memory seemed to kick in and she walked unsteadily down the halls with Stevie and a nurse on either side. Learning to walk again was hard work too. It all was. She was exhausted every day by nightfall and asleep before Stevie left the room.

Anthony did as he had promised and called her from New York as soon as he arrived. He was still furious about Matthieu.

“He has no business visiting you, Mom. He broke your heart. That's why we left France.”

“What did he do?” Carole asked, but Anthony's memories were those of a child.

“He was mean to you and made you cry.” It sounded so simple, she smiled.

“He can't hurt me now,” she reassured her son.

“I'll kill him if he does.” He no longer remembered the details himself, but the residual feelings were still strong. “Tell him to get lost.”

“I promise, if he's mean to me, I'll have him thrown out.” But she wanted to know more.

Two days after Jason and Anthony left, Mike Appelsohn said he was coming to Paris to see her. He had been calling every day and talking to Stevie. She told him Carole was strong enough to see him, although she was coming back to L.A. in a few weeks and he could see her there. He said he didn't want to wait, and took a plane from L.A. He was in Paris the next day, after weeks of being worried sick about her. She was like a daughter to him and had been since they met, when she was eighteen.

Mike Appelsohn was a handsome, portly man with lively eyes and a booming laugh. He had a great sense of humor, and had been producing movies for fifty years. He had found Carole in New Orleans thirty-two years before, and convinced her to come to Hollywood for a screen test. The rest was Hollywood history. The screen test had been perfect, and she shot to stardom like a rocket, thanks to him. He got her into her first movies and watched over her like a mother hen. He had been there when she met Jason, and introduced them, although he hadn't realized the impact it would have. And he was the godfather of her first child. Her children loved him and thought of him as a grandfather. And he had acted as her agent since he launched her career. She had discussed every movie she'd ever made with him, before signing the contracts, and had never done a single project without his approval and wise advice. When he heard about the accident, and the condition she'd been in, he was devastated. He wanted to see her now with his own eyes. Stevie warned him that Carole had no memory yet. She wasn't going to recognize him, or remember their history together, but once she knew how important she'd been to him, and he to her, Stevie was sure she'd be happy to see him.

“She still remembers nothing?” he asked, sounding upset on the phone. “Will her memory come back?” He had been worried sick about her since Stevie's call when she got to Paris. She had wanted to warn him before he read of Carole's accident in the press. He had cried when Stevie called.

“We hope so. Nothing's jogged it yet, but we're all trying,” and so was Carole. She tried for hours sometimes to remember the things people had told her about since she'd come out of the coma. She couldn't access any of it yet. Jason had had his secretary send photographs, and a baby album from his house. The photographs were beautiful, but Carole stared at them without even a spark of recognition for the memories they should have evoked and didn't. But the doctors were still hopeful, and the doctor in charge of her case, a neurologist, still said it could take a long time, and there were areas of her memory that might never return. Both the blow to her head, the trauma, and the coma afterward had taken a toll. How great a toll, and how long-lasting or permanent the damage, still remained to be seen. It was frustrating for Carole most of all.

But in spite of Stevie's warnings, Mike Appelsohn wasn't prepared for her complete lack of recognition when he walked into her room. He had expected something to be there at least, a memory of his face, of some part of their involvement with each other over the years. There was nothing, and she looked blank when he walked in. Fortunately, Stevie was in the room too. She saw the look of devastation on his face as Carole stared at him. Stevie told her who he was, and had warned her that he was coming. Despite every effort not to, Mike burst into tears as he gave her a hug. He was a big, warm bear of a man.

“Thank God” was all he could say at first, and then finally calmed down as he loosened his hug and released Carole from his arms.

“You're Mike?” Carole asked softly, as though they were meeting for the first time. “Stevie told me so much about you. You've been wonderful to me.” She sounded grateful, although she knew it secondhand.

“I love you, kid. I always have. You were the sweetest girl I've ever met.” He had to fight back tears as he looked at her, and she smiled at him. “You were an absolute knockout at eighteen,” he said proudly. “You still are.”

“Stevie says you discovered me. It makes me sound like a country, or a flower, or a rare bird.”

“You are a rare bird, and a flower,” he said, dropping into the room's only comfortable chair, while Stevie stood nearby. Carole had asked her assistant to stay with her. Even now, with no previous memory of what Stevie did for her, Carole had come to rely on her. She felt safe and protected by the tall, dark-haired young woman.