The Kiss (30 page)

“The courts here favor the father. Maybe he could convince them I'm an unsuitable mother.” It broke Bill's heart to hear her sounding so worried. She had been upset about it all morning.

“How can he convince anyone you're ‘unsuitable’? By telling them you've spent fourteen years taking care of him night and day? Sweetheart, don't be silly. He's just trying to terrorize you, and he's succeeding.” It was an unfounded fear, but Gordon always frightened her. He seemed so all-powerful and all-knowing.

“He's very impressive.” And in her eyes, always had been.

“He doesn't impress me,” Bill said, sounding angry. He would have loved to confront him about how badly he treated his wife. Gordon Forrester was a bully. “Just try to ignore him, and go about your business.”

“That's what I'm doing.”

“Are you having dinner with him tonight?”

“I don't know. He never tells me.”

It drove Bill crazy to hear what she was going through, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He wished she would divorce him, but he knew she never would. She had too much at stake there, and she was too afraid of what he would do to her, and that was exactly what Gordon wanted. Bill tried to explain it to her, but she pointed out to him that she was entirely at his mercy. She had no money of her own, and she had a child who was an invalid, and needed extremely costly medical attention. Hearing her say it upset Bill terribly. He would have liked to marry her, and take care of the boy. But it was too late now, for the moment at least: He couldn't ask her to marry him if he was going to be an invalid. His hands were tied. And men like Gordon always found the right weapon to wield at their victims. In this case, it was fear. He wondered how long it had been like that, and how much abuse she had taken over the years. It seemed to be unlimited, the man had been allowed to run roughshod over her for years, and with her meeting Bill in London and getting exposed by the accident, she had loaded the gun for him. It was unfortunate that he had found out about it.

“Try to stay out of his way. And I'll call you.” He knew it was best if his phone number didn't appear on her bills. That would have been all Gordon needed. “Only call me if you absolutely have to,” Bill told her. “I'll call you.” She felt lonely and isolated as she realized the situation she was in. She was in disgrace, even more than he knew, and Gordon was prepared to exact the ultimate price for it. To the uttermost farthing.

They talked for a while, and he had to go back to therapy again. He promised to call her later in the afternoon, before Gordon came home from the office.

But this time he surprised her. Instead of late, he came home early. He came home at four o'clock, looking as though he expected to surprise her in some wrongdoing. But Bill had already called her. And she was stretched across Teddy's bed playing cards with him. Teddy had a passion for gin rummy. He liked to play solitaire too, but he much preferred to play games with his mother.

Gordon waved as he walked by the room, but he didn't stop to speak to the boy, or Isabelle. It was exactly the same behavior Sophie had seen all summer. It had given Sophie a new view of her father, and she didn't like it. She hated the way he would talk to her, and completely ignore Teddy, as though he were invisible or had never existed. The boy was inadequate in Gordon's eyes, and severely flawed, and he dismissed him. He wasn't worthy of his attention, and Teddy knew it. For years now, he had had absolutely no respect for his father, and little affection. Gordon showed him none at all, nor did he show Isabelle any, and hadn't for years. Sophie had only just begun to
understand that. And Sophie commented on it later that afternoon, when she was visiting her mother before she went out for the evening again with friends.

“Why do you let him treat you that way?” Sophie accused her. She wanted her mother to stand up for herself, and was upset that she didn't. Although she had battled with her for years, Sophie was now potentially her strongest ally.

“He doesn't mean any harm by it, sweetheart. That's just the way he is.” Isabelle was always quick to defend him to the children, no matter how right they were when they complained about him. “He's not a demonstrative person,” she explained, and Sophie looked angry. She had learned a lot about him that summer, more than she wanted. It had destroyed all her illusions about her father. Her sympathies were now entirely with her mother. Isabelle had become a hero to her.

“He demonstrates indifference and rejection and meanness constantly. He's awful to you, and he doesn't care about Teddy,” Sophie said angrily.

“Of course he does, Sophie.” Isabelle looked nervous as she listened to what Sophie was saying, although she knew there was a great deal of truth to it.

“He only cares about himself. He doesn't care about me either.”

“He's very proud of you.” Sophie didn't challenge her about that, but she also didn't believe her.

“Even if he is, he has no right to treat you that way, or Teddy.” He was slightly better to Sophie than the others, but he had been less nice to her lately, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. He had never thanked her for
the efforts she made, the opportunities she gave up, or the love she showered on her brother in their mother's absence. Sophie had come to see her father as a cold, hard, unfeeling, ruthless man, which was precisely what he was. It had gotten him a long way in business, but it definitely wasn't winning him any medals at home with his wife and children.

“Please don't worry about it,” Isabelle urged her. “Your father is a good man.” But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie, and so did Sophie. He was anything but good, or even kind. “Your father and I are used to each other. We know what to expect, and how we feel about each other. It's not as bad as it looks from the outside.” But Sophie knew it was worse. She now understood why they had separate bedrooms, and she realized that her father was out all the time. He had hardly spent an evening at home while Isabelle was in the hospital in London, and more than once she had discovered that he was out for the night, but she didn't tell her mother that. She knew she would have been terribly hurt by it. Sophie didn't think he had a girlfriend. He didn't seem the type. But she had no idea where he went. He never left any numbers with her. “Everything's fine,” Isabelle reiterated, but she didn't convince her daughter. There seemed no point in Isabelle's mind to tell her just how unpleasant the situation was.

“Was he always like that?” Now that she thought about it, and had for the past two months, she couldn't remember her father ever treating her mother any other way. She couldn't remember a time when there had been warmth and affection between them. She couldn't
recall her father ever giving her mother a kiss or a hug. And they had had separate rooms ever since Teddy was born. Her mother had said it was so she could take care of Teddy and not disturb their father, but now Sophie realized it was due to far more than that. And she couldn't understand why she herself hadn't been shocked by it sooner. She had always favored her father since her earliest childhood, and now she felt guilty about it. She had learned a lot, and grown up, while her mother was gone. And nearly losing her in the accident made Sophie cherish her more than she ever had. “Was he different when you got married?” Sophie asked, looking sad for her. She felt so tender toward her mother now.

“He was very protective when we got married. Very strong, very determined, I thought it meant he loved me. I was very young. And he was wonderful when you were born. He was so happy.” She didn't tell Sophie that Gordon had wanted a boy. She'd had a miscarriage after that, and then finally four years after Sophie, Teddy was born. And everything had gone sour after that. He reproached her for Teddy's early birth, insisting that she must have done something to provoke it, and it was all her fault.

Gordon had disengaged himself from the ailing baby right from the first. And within months, he had detached himself from Isabelle as well. She had wanted his support and his love, it had been a hard time for her. They had almost lost Teddy several times during the first two years of his life, and it terrified her. He was so tiny and so frail and so much at risk, but Gordon had let her know again and again that he
thought it was all her fault. He told her constantly how inadequate she was, how incapable, how wrong. He had completely undermined her self-confidence, and any belief she'd had in herself, as a mother, as a woman, as his wife. And within two years of Teddy's birth, he had completely shut her out. She had never really understood why, but she had somehow come to believe that it was her fault. And she still felt that way now at times. She always had the feeling that if she'd done things better, he would still love her, and all would have been well with them. Just as he had this morning about her behavior and the accident in London, he invariably blamed her, and she was willing to accept both the blame and the guilt. Except finally, thanks to Bill, less so this time. She knew she had been wrong to meet him in London, in a clandestine way, but at that point at least, she had done nothing wrong. She intended it to be an innocent encounter, and she had told him that she honored her marriage. It was only in the hospital, after the accident, that everything had changed. And she loved Bill so much now, she was willing to bear the guilt, just to have him in her life. There was no way she could give him up now.

“I don't know why you married him, Mom,” Sophie said as she got ready to leave and meet her friends. What she had discovered that summer about her father, among other things, was that he was mean to the point of being cruel at times. And she hated that about him.

“I married him because I loved him.” Isabelle smiled sadly. “I was twenty-one years old, and I thought we were going to have a wonderful life. He was handsome
and smart and successful. My father thought the sun rose and fell on him. He told me he would be the perfect husband for me, and I believed him. He was very impressed by your father. He was a very accomplished man.” At thirty-eight, he was already the head of the bank then, and Gordon had been very impressed by her royal and social connections. She had been able to enhance his life at first. Through her parents, she had friends who were useful to him. But once he knew them himself, he pushed her away. It became impossible for him to show affection or love for her. He had been so charming at first, and so cruel so quickly after, and totally self-involved, as though she didn't exist, except to serve him.

Five years later, he was no longer interested in wasting his charm on her. And he certainly wasn't now. By the time her father died, the marriage had become a nightmare, but she would never have admitted it to anyone. She was too ashamed, and Gordon had convinced her by then that it was her fault. Ever since then, she had poured all her love into Sophie and Teddy. At least, she thought, she had done that right. And in sharp contrast to her experience with Gordon, Bill seemed to think she did everything right. It was still hard to believe that two men could view her so entirely differently. But it was Bill she trusted now, and whose opinions she respected. But she had made a decision to stay with Gordon in spite of it, for her children's sake, and she had to make the best of it.

Sophie left the house a little while later, and Gordon and Isabelle had dinner in the dining room. But after the tone of their exchange that morning, very little
was said by either of them. Isabelle didn't want to anger him further, and his entire aura warned her not to talk to him. It was never said, but understood, as though even conversation with him were an imposition, and wouldn't be of any interest to him. All she ever talked about were the children anyway, which bored him. Isabelle said not a word all through dinner, and after coffee, she went back upstairs to Teddy's room. Gordon barricaded himself behind his doors as usual. As he left her, he said only that he had work to do. And as she lay in her bed later, she was thinking about everything Sophie had said. She was a bright, healthy, perceptive girl, and her father's behavior and attitudes appalled her, but her mother's bothered her more. She wanted her to stand up to him, and instead Isabelle defended him, no matter what he did to her. It made Sophie sad for her.

Isabelle never heard Gordon leave that night. But she discovered that his bed hadn't been slept in when she went to find him for an important phone call from New York in the morning. She couldn't imagine where he'd been, and there was no one to ask. She was startled by what she saw, and then suddenly wondered if he did that often. She had never been aware of it before. But she was far more willing now to open her eyes. She said nothing to anyone, and told the people on the phone to call him at the office. She would have liked to call him and ask him herself where he'd been, but she wouldn't stoop to that. Instead, she went about her business through the day, as Bill had suggested, took care of Teddy, and waited for Gordon to come home again in the evening. And when he did,
she asked him nothing, said nothing. Confrontation wasn't her style, and Gordon's rejections no longer mattered to her. She had Bill, and the love they shared. She went to bed after dinner, and long after she was asleep, Gordon went out and closed the door quietly behind him, careful so no one would hear.

Chapter 13

Bill left the hospital in
London five days after Isabelle had gone back to Paris. The days there without her had depressed him immeasurably. He was so lonely without her, but he knew he had to get used to it. And in his own life, he had Mount Everest to climb now. The therapists had mapped out what he would have to do in the coming year, but even as they described it to him, they warned him not to set his sights too high. The likelihood of his regaining the use of his legs would have to be a miracle, they felt, and although they admired his determination, they didn't want him to be crushed if all he did was manage to stand on braces and on crutches, or have to resign himself to permanently being in a wheelchair. They were almost certain he would remain confined to the wheelchair. They thought it extraordinary that he had any sensation at all, given the extent of the damage to his spine. But there was a big difference, they explained, between having some feeling in his legs and being able to walk on them.