The Kiss (39 page)

“Maybe you're right,” Bill said, looking pensive. “I don't have the answers. I just have the questions. And
I'm a lot older than you are. Maybe at your age, I'd be braver too. Maybe you're right, maybe Sergio is a shit. But if he is, you're better off without him, and you're better off knowing it now.”

“That, I agree with,” she said sadly, “but it hurts anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said, “it does. But so does life. There's a lot of stuff that happens that hurts like hell. Some people never fail to disappoint you. It's nice to weed them out early on,” he said, and she nodded. He was thinking of Cynthia, and that had had nothing to do with his chair.

“I guess Sergio is one of those,” she said philosophically.

“Maybe next time you'll get a smaller ring, and a bigger guy.” She nodded, and they chatted for a while, and then she went back to her own room, but she reminded Bill again that she thought he should see the shrink before he left. And when Isabelle called him later that night, he sounded troubled. Some of the things Helena had said had confused him again. She was so emphatic about their limitations not making a difference to the people who loved them, that he almost wondered if she was right, but not quite. She was a young woman, and if a man wanted to take care of her, it was one thing. He was a man, and he felt he had to be able to offer more than that.

“You sound tired,” Isabelle said, sensing instantly that he was feeling down. “Did you walk around too much and wear yourself out today?” She had believed him totally, about his being able to walk again. And he
looked at his wheelchair feeling guilty as he listened. It was the lie that made it impossible for him to see her again. Like poisoning his food, he couldn't go near it again. But that had been his plan. And he had no intention of backing out now, no matter what Helena said. It had already gone too far, and he still believed that leaving her was the right thing to do. The only question in his mind was when.

“Yeah, I guess so. I have a lot to do before I leave,” he said, sounding vague.

“They did a great job,” Isabelle said, sounding gentler than ever, and as trusting, and just hearing her ripped out his heart. However misguided, what he wanted was to give her the gift of freedom, from a burden he felt certain would ruin her life. And he knew Helena would have told him Isabelle had the right to make her own choice, and he was taking away that right. But he was convinced he knew best, and Isabelle was too kind to ever walk out on him. But for days, she had heard something odd in his voice, and she couldn't tell what. He sounded different and distant and unhappy. All she could guess was that he was nervous about leaving the protected environment of the rehab facility and starting a new life. But now that he could walk again, as far as she knew, it was all going to be so much easier for him, and she was so relieved.

“How's the wedding coming?” she asked a few minutes later, hoping to distract him from whatever was bothering him.

“Cynthia's going crazy. I'm trying to stay out of it. All
I have to do is pay the bills. That's the easy part.” The hard part was what he was planning to do to Isabelle. But she didn't know that yet. “How's Teddy?” He rapidly changed the subject. She noticed that he was doing that a lot these days, hopping from one topic to another, as though he was uncomfortable suddenly talking about anything in depth. It was so unlike him, and the conversations they'd shared for nearly five years. She knew him better than he thought, better than he wanted her to.

“He's terrific,” Isabelle said, which reassured him. He could never have ended it with her if Teddy had been failing. She was sealing her own fate by telling Bill he was doing well. “He's never been better.”

“Good.” And then he told her he was going to Washington to look for an apartment the following week. It made her ask him about Paris again.

“Maybe you can come over after the wedding, if you're not too tired. Just for a few days before you start work.” It was a lot to ask of him, but she was afraid he wouldn't have time to do it after that. She knew just how busy things got for him, and would now.

“I'll have to see. I may be starting on the campaign that week.” It was another lie. He wasn't starting on the campaign until the end of June, and he would have had time to come over, but he wasn't walking, and he couldn't tell her that. He had made it impossible for himself to visit her. “We'll figure it out” was all he offered, and when they hung up this time, she was worried. She had the distinct feeling he was avoiding her, and she didn't know why. It had started happening
from one day to the next, literally overnight. What she didn't know was that his vagueness had started the day his therapists had confirmed that he would never walk again. That had been the turning point for him. He had always promised himself that when that happened, he would stop calling her, and never see her again. But he couldn't bring himself to stop calling her yet. At her end, Isabelle was worried that she had said something that offended him. But he didn't seem angry at her, just distant. It had been nine months since she'd seen him, and she had no idea when he was going to come to Paris to visit her. And there was no way she could go to Washington or New York to see him. She couldn't leave Teddy for that long or venture that far away.

By the time the wedding came, Isabelle was panicked. He had missed calling her a few times, and when she asked him about it, he said he'd been too busy. He had found an apartment in Washington, and met with the young senator about his campaign. He sounded excited when he talked about that. And for two days after the wedding, Bill didn't call her at all. And for some odd, instinctive reason, she suddenly didn't dare call him. He had suddenly put up walls to keep her out.

It had been a beautiful wedding, and everyone had cried when Joe and Jane exchanged their vows. With Joe in his wheelchair, and Jane standing next to him, holding his hand, it had been incredibly touching. And no one cried more than Bill, sitting in his wheelchair, next to Cynthia, at the end of the first pew.

“Are you okay?” she asked him at the reception. He
was sitting next to her, and she found him unusually quiet. “You look stressed.”

“Just thinking about work. I'm leaving the rehab and going to Washington in a few days. You know how I am.” Physically, he looked terrific, but she could see that something was bothering him.

“You seem upset.” In the end, she assumed that it had gotten to him watching his baby get married.

Olivia came and sat with him some of the time, and when Jane was supposed to dance with him, she danced with her grandfather instead while he and Joe watched, smiling at her. It didn't seem to bother Joe, but it bothered Bill. A lot. It was a beautiful wedding, a great party, and everyone had a great time. And as he rode back to the rehab facility that night, all Bill could think about was Isabelle.

He stayed in his room and didn't even go to physical therapy for two days, and then he finally got up the guts to make the call. She was worried about him by then, and he hadn't answered his phone when she finally called him. It had rung several times in the past two days. He knew it was Isabelle. And he just lay on his bed, thinking about her, and wishing he were dead.

“Where have you been?” she asked, with a note of panic in her voice when he finally called. “I thought you went on the honeymoon with them,” she teased. But he could hear that she was worried and hurt and hated himself for it. He knew that the concern she had felt was nothing compared to the pain she was going to feel. After five years of talking to her, it was inconceivable to no longer have her in his life. But he was
certain now that it was the final gift that he owed her. “How was the wedding?” she asked innocently, and he sighed.

“It was beautiful. Everyone cried at the ceremony, and after that they had a great time.”

“Tell me about it.” Teddy was still asleep, he was sleeping later these days, and she had lots of time.

He did, and then he took a breath. It was like jumping off the high dive. “Isabelle, there's something I have to tell you.” She could feel her heart stop. She knew before he said another word that something was terribly wrong.

“Why do I not like the sound of that?” She held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

“Cynthia and I renewed our vows.” There was an endless silence at her end while she absorbed what he had just said to her.

“What exactly does that mean?” She was trying to be polite, but she wanted to scream. As always, she was gracious and waited for him to explain.

“We made a recommitment to our marriage.” It was the second-worst lie he had ever told her. The first one was when he told her that he could walk again. “Things have changed since I've been at the rehab facility. We thought it was important for the girls.” One was married and the other was twenty-two years old. How important could it be to two grown women for their parents to renew their vows? But Isabelle didn't ask the obvious, the fact that they'd done it was all that mattered and that she heard.

“When did you decide this?” Her whole body was shaking, but she sounded deceptively calm.

“In the last few weeks.” He sounded almost cavalier and forced himself not to think of what it was doing to her.

“I knew something was wrong.” She was right about that. She knew him well, which was hardly surprising after five years. “Is that why you wouldn't make plans to come to Paris?” It explained it to her now. She knew he was worried about something, she just hadn't known what. “What does that mean for us?”

“I don't think we should talk to each other anymore.” His words hit her harder than the impact of the bus. She couldn't even speak for a moment, and she thought she was going to pass out. She couldn't get air in her lungs, and she could feel her heart for the first time since the accident. It was as though he had dropped a wrecking ball on her, and she was too crushed to answer. But she knew she had to say something. She hadn't expected this. But she could hardly blame him. She had refused to leave Gordon, for Teddy's sake. She had so little to offer Bill, except their calls. It made sense to her for him to recommit himself to Cynthia, no matter how much it hurt her. It seemed right for him, and she loved him enough to want the best for him.

“I don't know what to say. I'm happy for you, Bill.” He had recovered not only his legs, but his marriage, and she wished him well. He could hear that she was crying and he wanted to die. But he knew it was the right thing for her, whether she knew it or not. Only his love for her had led him to do such an awful thing. He knew that with what he'd said, he had destroyed
part of his own heart. It was the ultimate sacrifice he could make for her, and she for him.

“I want you to take care of yourself. Don't let Gordon get the upper hand. Save your ammunition, and if he tortures you, use it on him. He won't bother you after that. As long as Louise's husband is alive, he'll want to stay married to you.” He had thought a lot about it, and it was the only thing he was worried about now. He didn't want Gordon tormenting her, and he would no longer know about it. He couldn't protect her from him anyway, except with his love, which seemed too little to him now anyway.

“It's nice of you to worry about that,” she said, sounding shocked and confused. “I don't understand … you didn't tell me things were better between you and Cynthia. How did that happen? And when?”

“I don't know. Maybe when the kids decided to get married, we figured we needed to clean up our act.” In fact, their divorce had come through in March right after Jane and Joe told them they were getting married. Cynthia appeared to be very serious now with the man she'd been seeing for nine months, and Bill was happy for her.

“I want you to be happy, Bill,” she said generously, “whatever that means to you. And for what it's worth, I love you with all my heart.”

“I know you do,” there were tears rolling down his cheeks, but he couldn't let her hear it in his voice. Her freedom depended on his convincing her, and he was determined to do it right. “I love you too, Isabelle.” He wanted to tell her he always would, but there was no
way he could say that. “Take good care of yourself. If you ever need anything, call me. I'll always be there for you.”

“I don't think Cynthia would like that.”

“Thirty years is a long time. It's hard to walk away from that.” But he had walked away from that too. For similar reasons. But it was Isabelle who owned his heart, and he knew she always would. But only he knew that.

“I'm going to miss you terribly,” she said, beginning to sob. “But I want you to be happy … be happy … be good to yourself, Bill. You deserve so much.” He knew he deserved to burn in hell for what he was doing to her, but he was still convinced that the gift he was giving her was greater than the pain she had now. She'd see that one day, he was sure.

“Good-bye,” he said simply, and then gently hung up, and as Isabelle put down the phone, she began to cry long wracking sobs. It sounded as though someone had died, and she had.

“What's wrong, Mommy?” Teddy came running into her room with terrified eyes. He had heard her from the hall, and he'd never seen her like that. He was breathless when he got to where she sat, after she'd hung up the phone.

For a moment she couldn't speak, but she knew she had to pull herself together for him. “An old friend of mine just died.” She didn't know what else to say to him, and in a way, he had. Bill was dead to her now. Gone. Lost to her. She couldn't imagine living without him, couldn't imagine what her life would be like without his calls. It was like a death sentence in a life
where she already had so little. All she had were her children now. And as Teddy watched, she got up and got her coat and then came to give him a hug. “I'm fine. I'm just sad. I'm going to go for a little walk.” She took him back to his room, and settled him in his bed. And then she went out, and walked for hours. It was nearly lunchtime when she got back, and she looked deathly pale, almost gray. And even Teddy's nurse was frightened for her.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Forrester?” she asked respectfully. In all the years she had known her, she had never seen her look so ill. Isabelle quietly nodded, with a wintry smile. Her eyes were two deep pools of pain.