Magic (3 page)

And at eleven o'clock Jean-Philippe handed out the regulation sparklers to his guests, and suddenly the entire square was ablaze with twinkling, sparkling lights being held aloft and waved as Dharam took photographs of that too. He had chronicled the entire evening with photos and videos. It touched Chantal when he said he was doing it to show his children. She couldn't imagine sending photographs of the evening to hers. They were very independent, and not interested in her activities, and would probably think her silly if she sent them photographs of the White Dinner and might wonder why she was there. Their vision of her was of someone who stayed home working and had no particular life apart from them. As a result, she told them very little about what she did, and most of the time they didn't ask. It never occurred to them. They were far more engaged in their own activities than hers, not out of any malice, they just never thought of her as a person who had a life that might be of interest to them. Meanwhile, Dharam was having them all pose for the photographs to send his son and daughter, convinced that they would want to know all about it. His whole face lit up when he talked about them.

The party was still lively as people visited from other tables and began to mill around a little more than they had earlier. And as Chantal turned to greet a cameraman she knew, who had worked on a documentary she did in Brazil, and another screenwriter, she noticed the good-looking younger people at the table behind them. They were handing out paper lanterns from a huge box. One of the men at the table was showing everyone how to set them up, and he handed several lanterns to Jean-Philippe's guests too. The lanterns were about three feet tall and had a small burner at the bottom that was lit with a match, and as the small fire burned, the paper lantern filled with warm air. Once it was fully inflated, he held it aloft, high over his head, and let it go. They watched the lantern sail up into the sky, as the fire within continued to burn. The others could see it sailing through the night sky, brightly lit like a shooting star, carried on the wind. It was an exquisite sight, and the guests around him were excited as they lit their own. The man giving them away told them to make a wish before they let them go, once they were lit by the flame at the base and full of warm air. They were gorgeous to watch. Chantal was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it, as Dharam took a video and then helped Benedetta light hers. He reminded her to make a wish as they held on to hers and then released the delicate lantern into the night.

“Did you make a good wish?” Dharam asked her seriously after hers sailed into the sky, and she nodded, but didn't tell him for fear it wouldn't come true. She had wished for her marriage to return to what it was before Anya had come into their lives.

The others were busy lighting their lanterns too, as the man who had brought them continued to help everyone, and then he turned and saw Chantal. Their eyes met for a long moment. He was a handsome man in white jeans and a white sweater, with a thick mane of dark hair, and looked to be about Jean-Philippe's age, somewhere in his late thirties. The girls at his table were beautiful and considerably younger, in their twenties, like her daughter's age.

He spoke to her directly, never taking his eyes from hers. “Did you do one yet?” She shook her head. She hadn't. She'd been too busy watching Dharam and Benedetta do theirs, and Jean-Philippe's had been one of the first.

The young man walked over to Chantal then and held one out. He lit it for her, and they waited for it to fill with warm air as he told her it was the last one. It seemed to fill more quickly than the others, and she was surprised by the heat from the small flame. “Hang on to it with me, and make a wish,” he instructed her quickly, holding it with her so they didn't let it go too soon. And just as it was ready, he turned to her with an intense look. “Did you make a wish?” She nodded, and then he told her to let it go, and at the moment they released it, it sailed straight up into the sky, like a rocket, heading for the stars. She stood and stared at it like a child watching a balloon float away, with total fascination, as he stood beside her, keeping his eyes on the lantern with her. They could see the fire at its base burn brightly until they could barely see it anymore, and then he turned to smile at her.

“It must have been a good wish. That was a powerful one—it went straight up to heaven.”

“I hope so,” she said, and smiled back at him. It had been one of those perfect moments that you know you'll never forget. The whole evening had been that way. The White Dinner always was. “Thank you. That was beautiful. Thank you for doing it with me, and giving me the last one.” He nodded and went back to his friends, and a little while later she saw him looking at her again, and they exchanged a smile. He was sitting with lovely young girls, and a pretty woman across from him.

The next hour passed too quickly for all of them, and at twelve-thirty Jean-Philippe reminded them all to wrap up. The witching hour had come. And like seven thousand Cinderellas, it was time to leave the ball. The white garbage bags came out, and what needed to be was thrown away. The rest they put back in their caddies, the silverware, the vases, the glasses, the remaining wine and food. Within minutes all the accessories had disappeared, the tablecloths, tables, and chairs were folded, the lines of elegant tables had vanished, and seven thousand people dressed in white quietly left the square in front of Notre Dame, with a last glance over their shoulders to where the magic had taken place. Chantal thought about the beautiful lanterns again, burning their way gently through the sky, and she saw that the table of people that had brought them had already left. The lanterns had vanished from the sky by then, carried by the wind to where others would see them and wonder from where they had come.

Jean-Philippe asked around to make sure everyone could get home. Chantal was planning to take a cab. Dharam had offered to take Benedetta back to the hotel since they were staying at the same one. And the others all had rides too. Jean-Philippe promised to call Chantal in the morning and arrange to meet for lunch, and she thanked him for another unforgettable evening. The White Dinner was her favorite day of the year, and everyone else's who was lucky enough to come. And with the beautiful paper lanterns soaring up into the sky, she thought this had been the most magical one of all.

“I had a wonderful time,” Chantal said to Jean-Philippe as she kissed him goodbye. He helped her into a cab with her caddy and table and chairs and asked the driver to assist her when she got home.

“So did I,” Jean-Philippe said, beaming at her, as Valerie waved while she loaded up their car. Dharam and Benedetta were just getting into a taxi to go back to the George V. And the others were heading for cabs and cars and the nearest Metro station. It was an orderly unraveling of what had been a perfectly orchestrated event. “See you tomorrow,” he called after Chantal, as her taxi drove away and she waved from the window. And suddenly Chantal wondered if her wish would come true. She hoped it would, but even if it didn't, the evening had been flawless and unforgettable, and she smiled all the way home.

D
haram was a perfect gentleman when he escorted Benedetta to her room, carrying her folded table and chairs for her, while she rolled the grocery caddy behind her. She had brought their table decorations from Italy, and borrowed the plates and silverware from the hotel. He asked if she would like to have a drink downstairs at the bar, but she wanted to wait in her room to hear from Gregorio. It would be a conversation she didn't want to have in a public place. She told Dharam she was tired, and he understood. He said he had had a delightful evening thanks to her, and would send her the photographs and the video, and get her email address from Jean-Philippe. He didn't want to bother her for it then. He could see that she was worried again now that the party was over and there were no distractions. Clearly, something had happened for her husband to disappear the way he did. And just as clearly she was upset about it. She thanked him again for his help and kindness through the evening and said goodnight.

And as soon as she was alone, she lay down on the bed. She checked her cellphone, and there were no text messages or voicemails. She had checked it discreetly periodically through the evening and had heard nothing from him. And she didn't want to call him and catch him at an awkward moment when he couldn't talk to her. She lay there waiting to hear from him, and by three
A.M.
she had heard nothing and fell asleep.

Gregorio got to the hospital just before ten
P.M.
and Anya had already been admitted to a room in the maternity ward. She was being examined by two doctors when he walked into her room. She was lying on the bed sobbing and reached her arms out to him immediately. She was in mild labor, and she hadn't started dilating, but the contractions were consistent and strong, and the IV of magnesium they had started an hour before hadn't stopped them. Their concern was that the babies were still too small and too undeveloped to be born. Both doctors agreed that there was only a very small chance of saving them if she delivered them now, because of the stage of gestation and the fact that they were even smaller than usual because they were twins. And Anya was hysterical after what they said.

“Our babies are going to die!” she wailed as Gregorio held her in his arms. This was not the scenario he had wanted to be involved in. He had hoped everything would go smoothly at the appropriate time, and he could make a gracious exit from her life, with financial support for her and the twins. He had never wanted her to have them, or to get pregnant at all. Because of a casual, playful indiscretion, he had wound up in a situation he had never been in before and didn't want. And now it was even worse.

The obstetrician had been candid with them that the babies were likely to die or be damaged, and he would have to deal with a possible tragedy, not just an unwanted birth. And he was worried about his wife too. He couldn't leave Anya for long enough to call Benedetta and reassure her. He could just imagine the state she was in. She had been patient with his indiscretions before, but this time was infinitely more upsetting. He had never gotten anyone pregnant. And now there would be two children he didn't want, with a girl he barely knew, who had been asking him to leave his wife for her, which was out of the question. He had never misled any of the women he got involved with, and always told them he loved his wife. And no one had ever asked him to leave her. But as soon as Anya got pregnant, she had become totally dependent on him, like a child herself, and Gregorio was not equal to the pressure she put on him. It had been a nightmarish six months, and now the possibilities the doctors had outlined to them that night were horrifying. He felt sorry for Anya, as she sobbed in his arms, but he wasn't in love with her, not that that mattered now. They were in this together, and there was no way out. He had to see it through. There were two tiny lives at stake, and both could be seriously impaired if they survived, which was an awesome responsibility too. He couldn't imagine Anya handling that at twenty-three, and she had the maturity of a sixteen-year-old. She clung to him like a child that night, and he never left her side. It was a terrible situation. Gregorio was shaken by it too.

The contractions slowed for a little while, then picked up at midnight and got stronger again, and then she started dilating. They had given her an IV of steroids to try and increase the babies' lung capacity if they were born, but it was too early, and at four o'clock in the morning, they told them it was unlikely that her labor could be stopped. A special neonatal team was brought in while she was closely monitored and labor began in earnest, but instead of the joy of anticipation normally associated with a birth, there was a sense of dread and resignation in the room. Whatever happened now, they all knew it wouldn't be good. The only questions were just how bad it would be and if the twins would survive.

Anya was terrified and screamed with every pain. They gave her no drugs to ease the contractions, so as not to risk the babies further, but eventually they gave her an epidural to lessen the pain, and to Gregorio it all looked fierce. She had tubes and monitors everywhere, and as the labor progressed, both babies began to show signs of distress with each contraction, but she was fully dilated so they told her she could push. Gregorio was horrified, watching what she was going through, but stayed staunchly at her side. He finally forgot about his wife entirely, all he could think about was this poor pathetic girl, clinging to him in terror and sobbing between contractions. She was almost unrecognizable in the condition she was in. This was not the racy, flamboyant girl he had met and slept with on a lark.

Their son was born first, at six
A.M.
He was blue when he emerged, a tiny infant who didn't look fully formed and had to fight for his first breath. He was whisked away the instant the cord was cut and rolled down the hall in an incubator to the neonatal ICU with two doctors and a nurse. With a respirator already in place, the infant was struggling for his life. His skin was so thin you could see his veins through it. His heart stopped an hour after he was born, but he was revived by the team attending to him, and they told Gregorio that his chances for survival were not good. As he listened to what they said, tears rolled down Gregorio's cheeks. He hadn't expected to be so moved by the sight of his first child being born, and in such dire distress. The baby looked like a creature from another world, with wide staring eyes that were begging them to help. Gregorio couldn't stop crying as he looked at him, and Anya was incoherent from the pain.

The little girl came twenty minutes later, slightly bigger than her brother, and with a stronger heart. Each weighed less than two pounds. But her lungs were as inadequate as his. They put her on a respirator, and a second team whisked her away. Anya began hemorrhaging after the second birth, which took them time to control and required two transfusions, and Gregorio saw that she looked gray. And then they mercifully gave her something to make her sleep, after the trauma she'd been through, and they warned both of them again that the babies might not survive. Both were in critical condition, and it would be a long time before they were safe, if they lived. The days ahead would be crucial. The doctors spoke to Gregorio again after Anya was sedated and unconscious. He went to see the babies in their incubators then and just stood there and cried, he was so moved by the tiny beings, his children. It had been a hard night for him too, and the worst lay ahead. He had no idea what he would say to Benedetta now. This was all so much more intense than anything he had imagined. He had believed it would all work out somehow, and now clearly it wouldn't, or not for a long time. There was no escaping reality and the consequences of his actions.

A nurse told him that Anya would sleep for a few hours from the shot she'd been given, and he realized that this was his chance to go back to the hotel. It was eight in the morning by then and he hadn't called Benedetta all night. There had been no chance to do so, and once Anya woke up, he might not be able to get away again. She had no family in western Europe, just a mother in Russia she hadn't seen in years, and no one else to help her. He was it. And there were the babies to think of now. He had felt instantly attached to them, which had come as a shock to him.

He took a cab back to the hotel and walked into the George V feeling as though he had returned from another planet. Here everything seemed normal and the way it had been the night before, when they left for the White Dinner. It seemed odd to see such ordinary life around him. People leaving for meetings, going to breakfast, walking through the lobby, checking in. He went up to his room and found Benedetta sitting at the desk with her head in her hands, staring at the phone. She was in despair and had been awake nearly all night, waiting to hear from him. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before, and noticed that there was blood on his white shoes, which made him feel sick when he remembered how it had gotten there. There had been blood everywhere when Anya gave birth. They had given her two transfusions. The delivery had been a terrible scene.

“I'm sorry I didn't call you last night,” he said in a dead voice as he walked in. She turned to him with anger mixed with fear, and saw tragedy in his eyes. “I couldn't.”

“What happened?” She looked frantic.

“They were born two hours ago. They may not survive. It was the worst thing I've ever seen in my life. It may just be too early for them to be saved. They're doing all they can. They don't even look complete or ready to be born. And they both weigh under two pounds.” He acted as though he expected her to grieve with him, and Benedetta just stared at him in misery.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked him with a look of anguish. He had two children now, by someone else. And she could see that they were very real to him. She hadn't expected that.

“I have to go back. She has no one else. And I can't just walk out on them. They're fighting for their lives, and they could die at any time. I have to be there, for her and for them.” He sounded surprisingly noble, and Benedetta nodded, unable to speak. She felt shut out of what was happening to him. It was the hardest day of her life. “I'll call you later and let you know what's happening.” He was pulling clothes out of the closet as he spoke to her, and changing as she watched. He didn't take the time to shower or eat—all he wanted was to get back.

“Should I wait here?” she asked in a flat voice.

“I don't know. I'll tell you later.” He realized that it might be all over by the time he got back to the hospital. He put his wallet in his pants and looked at Benedetta sadly. “I'm sorry. I really am. We'll get through this somehow, I promise. I'll make it up to you.” Although he had no idea how, and she didn't see how he could. And if the twins survived, he had two children now. He walked over to kiss her, and she turned away from him. For the first time in their life together, she couldn't face him, and maybe not forgive him either. She didn't know yet. “I'll call you,” he said gruffly, and then left the room in a hurry, and as soon as he did, she burst into tears. She went back to bed and cried until she fell asleep. And by then Gregorio was back at the hospital, sitting between the two incubators, watching his newborn babies fight for their lives, with an army of people tending to them, and tubes attached to every part of them.

He went back to Anya in her room an hour later, when they told him she was awake, and he spent the day consoling her, and whenever he thought he could leave her for a few minutes, he went back to see the babies. It was nearly six o'clock when he remembered to call Benedetta, and neither her cellphone nor the hotel room answered.

She had gone out for a walk, and ran into Dharam as she left the hotel. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she was wearing jeans and flat shoes, and she looked ravaged. He felt instantly sorry for her, and tried not to let it show. She made distracted small talk as they walked out of the hotel, and he turned to look at her. She was smaller than he remembered, and he realized she'd been wearing high heels the night before. She was a slight, delicate woman and seemed fragile to him now, with huge sad eyes that dwarfed her face.

“Are you all right?” he asked her gently. He didn't want to be intrusive, but he was worried about her. She appeared as though something terrible had happened. He wondered if it had to do with her husband leaving the night before. Unlike Jean-Philippe and Valerie, he knew nothing of the fashion world gossip and Gregorio's affair with the Russian model.

“I…yes…no.” She started to lie to him and then couldn't, as tears ran down her cheeks, and she just shook her head. “I'm sorry…I was just going out to get some air.”

“Do you want company, or do you want to be alone?”

“I don't know…” She was confused and he hated to let her leave the hotel by herself. She was so distracted she didn't seem safe alone. She was in no condition to be on the streets on her own.

“May I come? We don't have to talk. I don't think you should go out alone.”

“Thank you.” She nodded and he followed her out of the hotel and fell into stride beside her. They walked for several blocks before she spoke. And then she glanced at him hopelessly, as though the world had come to an end, and for her, it had.

“My husband started having an affair with a model several months ago. He's done it before, which is embarrassing, but he always came to his senses and got out of it very quickly. This time the girl got pregnant, with twins. She gave birth to them three months early this morning. And now my husband is entangled in all the drama of two babies who may die, a young girl who needs him, and these are his first children. We have none. It's an incredible mess, and I have no idea how we'll survive it. And this could go on for months. I don't know what to do now. He's at the hospital with her.” The story tumbled out as tears ran down her cheeks, and Dharam remained calm, although he was stunned.