Fix You (11 page)

Eleven

November 30
^th
2004

J
oe Garfield sat back in the leather captain’s
chair, folding his arms across his suited chest. His chocolate-brown eyes
surveyed Richard with interest. The lines around them deepened into furrows as
he spoke. “You did well to make the decision so quickly, Richard. If you find a
cancer growing, you have to cut it out before it has time to take hold.”

Richard winced at the mention of the disease. It seemed to
be at the center of his and Hanna’s life. Not that the cancer Joe was referring
to was of the medical kind. It was the discovery that the head of the Real
Estate Division had been taking backhanders from a number of construction
companies. Even so, hearing the word was enough to send Richard’s mind across
the Atlantic.

Things hadn’t been so easy on this side of the pond, either.
Firing half of the executive team in the Real Estate division hadn’t been his
favorite job, and searching for their replacements was proving even more
difficult. He had called the meeting with Joe to discuss their short-term
plans.

“We need to build the division back up quickly,” Richard
stood up and walked over to the large picture window that overlooked the
financial district. “I’m going to appoint an interim head while we let the
executive search team do their job.”

“It sounds like a good plan to me.” Joe nodded his head as
he looked at the organization chart that Richard had left on his desk. “We can’t
afford to take our eye off the ball when it’s such a growth market.”

They’d had this conversation a number of times. They were
both amazed at how real estate prices were increasing exponentially, and the
over-inflation of land values had made them wary. Maxwell Enterprises had
agreed on a strategy of investing in the short-term while keeping their eye on
the market, ready to withdraw at short notice should a downturn threaten.

Richard’s biggest fear was by the time the crash arrived, it
would be too late. He was trying to diversify the company’s interests as much
as possible, but he wasn’t foolish enough to withdraw from such a lucrative
part of his business.

That was why finding the right person to lead the division
was so important.

“Have you heard from Daniel at all?” Joe glanced at the
photograph of the Maxwell family that Richard kept on his desk, picking it up
and rubbing his thumbs over the gilt frame.

“I managed to track him down to a resort near Miami. He’s
adamant that he won’t go back into rehab, and there’s little we can do to make
him.” Richard rubbed his head wearily. It had been a hell of a month, and it
wasn’t looking like things were going to get much better.

“He’s becoming a big liability to this company,” Joe
remarked, putting the frame back on Richard’s oak desk. “We’re going to need a
strategy for cutting him loose; we don’t want to be at his mercy forever.” Joe
laced his fingers together, leaning forward until his elbows were on Richard’s
desk. “He’s an addict, Richard, and you and I both know that he’s never going
to change. I’d hate for us to be here in a few months’ time having an emergency
meeting because he’s sold his share of the company for drugs.”

“The lawyers drew up a first refusal document, so he can’t
sell it without giving me the option to buy.” Richard sighed, his fingers
rubbing harder than ever at his temples. “I can arrange the finance easily
enough if he does want to sell.”

“Maybe you need to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Richard laughed. “You’re making me sound like the Godfather.
This is Daniel we’re talking about, not Sonny Corleone.”

“We just need to be prepared for the worst. There’s no room
for sentimentality in business. Now, I’m going to go home, kiss my wife, and
get ready for this damned gala.”

“You sound as excited about it as I am.”

“Oh believe me, Richard, I’m probably the only person in New
York who is less excited about it than you.”

“Well, old man, I’ll see you at the Astoria at eight. I’ll
be the one in the monkey suit.”

“And I’ll be the one with the most beautiful woman in the
world on my arm, particularly since you couldn’t persuade Hanna to come with
you tonight.” Joe gave him a small smile, knowing that the past months had
placed a huge strain on Richard’s relationship with Hanna. “I’m only sorry that
I won’t get to dance with her. Make sure you pass on mine and Emily’s regards.”

“I will.” Richard walked across the office with Joe, opening
up the large oak door to let him out, closing it softly behind him. Pulling his
cell phone out of his pocket as he walked back to his desk, he checked his
watch before pressing the speed dial.

“Hey.” Hanna’s soft voice coming down the earpiece made him
smile. He sat down in his leather chair, pushing it back on its wheels until he
could put his feet up on his desk.

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s Diana?”

“She’s having a good day, she managed to eat some soup. We
even went for a short walk in the garden.” Hanna sounded wistful, and his fist
clenched in an effort not to throw down the phone and run to the nearest
airport. Christ, he missed her.

“That sounds hopeful. I’m hoping to fly over in the next
couple of weeks, once we’ve managed to sort out the new head of Real Estate.”
Not wanting to burden her with his troubles, he quickly changed the subject, “Joe
asked me to give you his regards. He’s devastated you won’t be dancing with him
at the gala this evening.”

“Oh God, I forgot that was happening tonight, I’m so sorry.”
Her tone turned tearful, and Richard bit his lip in response. “I’m really upset
that I can’t be there with you.”

“Hey, we agreed you wouldn’t feel guilty about this,” he
chided. “You’d only be bored, anyway. I plan to run in, make my speech, and
then hot tail it home.”

“Richard, you know you can’t do that. The only reason the
tables sell for so much is all the women want to get their hands on you for a
dance.”

“There’s only one woman I want to be dancing with tonight,
sweetheart. Since you won’t be there, I’ll just sit this one out.”

“I love you.”

He could almost hear her smile.

“I love you, too. Now try and get some rest.”

RICHARD’S CAR PULLED up outside the
Waldorf-Astoria. As he strode under the gilt-edged canopy and entered the
lobby, he saw his PA waiting for him, wearing a silver ankle-length gown, her
auburn hair swept up and back from her face to reveal her smiling features.

“You’re late.”

“I know.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I only left
the office an hour ago. Have I missed much?”

“Your mother was very disappointed that you weren’t on her
table for dinner, and I’ve had to give your apologies to about a thousand
frustrated ladies who are desperate to mark your dance card.”

“Do dance cards still exist?” He gave her a wry smile. They
began walking toward the Grand Ballroom. Lisa fussed over his bowtie and
jacket, smoothing them down until he was perfectly turned out.

“If they do, then along with the rest of your cards, I’ve
marked them,” she replied dryly. “Your speech is cued up on the screen of the
lectern, and Jon Stewart has done a wonderful job of warming up the crowd. You
just need to get in there and do your thing.”

“You make it sound so easy.” He grinned, batting her hands
away as she tried to smooth down his hair. “And leave me alone, I’m trying to
perfect the hobo look.”

“You’re doing a damn fine job,” Lisa muttered. “And don’t
worry about the speech, nobody will be listening, they’ll have either drunk
themselves into a stupor at dinner, or they’ll be planning who they’re going to
schmooze with next. Think of yourself as the gala equivalent of a B movie.”

Later that evening, he found himself standing at the bar, a
glass of whisky in hand, surrounded by people that he only had a passing
acquaintance with. The 3rd Annual Leon J Maxwell Memorial Foundation Dinner was
being held to raise money for the families of victims of 9/11. It was only the
fact that it was such a good cause that kept Richard anywhere near the Astoria
that evening. With just under a thousand guests present, the foundation hoped
to raise upwards of $3 million during the gala.

“Darling, there you are, I’ve been looking for you all over.
Please don’t tell me you came alone tonight.” Richard looked up to see his
mother approaching, looking resplendent in an emerald-green evening dress, her
hair lying softly against her shoulders.

“Mother.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips softly
brushing her cheek. “And yes, I came alone, you know Hanna can’t leave England
right now.”

“You really should find yourself a partner for times like
these,” she chided, ignoring Richard’s reddening face. “It doesn’t look right
when you turn up without anybody on your arm.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” He drained his whisky, putting the
empty glass on the bar.

“How long is this going to go on, darling? I can’t stand to
see you turn up at these occasions on your own. You really need the support of
a woman. You’re way too busy to be concerning yourself with the small things.”
Caroline brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve. “People are starting to
notice.”

“I couldn’t give a damn what people are saying.” Richard was
angry, his voice louder than he intended. “Diana is dying, what do you expect
Hanna to do, fly out and leave her on her own?”

“I expect her to stand by her man, just like the rest of us
would.”

“Because appearances always come first,” he said bitterly.

“No, because when you are in love with somebody, you want to
be with them. When was the last time you saw Hanna?”

“I spoke with her this evening.” His words were firm and flat,
and invited no response. Caroline continued, ignoring his warning.

“Well, just think about it. If Hanna can’t accompany you to
important occasions such as this, having a friend to stand in would be a better
option.” Like his own, her words were short. She took another glass of
champagne from a passing waiter before squeezing Richard’s hands. “I don’t mean
to nag you, darling, but I worry about you. When you’re not working you’re
either on a plane or visiting Hanna. A man like you needs somebody to look after
him.”

Her words hit a tender spot. Without Hanna, he felt
incomplete, and to attend functions without her on his arm was difficult. It
wasn’t the fact that single women of a certain age seemed to make a beeline for
him, because he was easily able to swat them off. It was more that he felt her
absence profoundly.

They had been together—as a normal couple—for such a short
time before Diana had found the lump in her breast. In the nine months since,
she had gone through the ups and downs of treatment; hope, fear, and finally
despair. It was understandable that Hanna didn’t want to leave her for any
amount of time because the doctors had given her months, not years, to live. He
wasn’t going to be the selfish bastard who took her away from her dying mother.

Richard felt the sickening feeling of guilt when he wished
that she would fly over and see him, or that they could spend some time alone
in London, without having to be with Diana all the time. An even darker part of
him—one he would never admit to knowing existed—missed their physical contact,
the romance, the love, and especially the sex. If you discounted his hand, he
hadn’t had a fulfilling assignation for quite some time.

“Have you talked about what you are going to do afterward?”
Caroline asked.

“After Diana dies? I don’t think that Hanna can even
conceive of a world without her mother, let alone how she’s going to feel, or
where she’s going to want to live.”

“Will she ever want to move to Manhattan?”

“I don’t know.” Richard shook his head slowly, not wanting
to follow the direction that this conversation was heading. “There are too many
what-ifs and buts to even start to think about the future. I just need to
concentrate on the now, and look after my girl.”

Twelve

February 9
^th
2005

T
he light cream walls were illuminated by the
afternoon sun, dappled by the branches of the tree outside, as it shone through
the window into Diana’s room.
Hanna sat on the easy
chair next to her mother’s bed, watching Diana’s thin body as her chest rose
and fell with rhythmic sleep. Her dry lips emitted wheezing sounds as she
exhaled every ten seconds or so.

The past year had been a slow, downhill ride; sometimes the
gradient had been so low Hanna had thought they were actually making progress.
The diagnosis of stage 4 breast cancer hadn’t fazed her at first. Then
treatment was complicated by metastasis, and the cancer spreading led to words
like
pain management
,
months, perhaps weeks
, and finally
dignity
.
Any hope Hanna had was completely deflated, like a birthday balloon left out in
the cold.

They’d agreed to move Diana to the hospice last week, when
it was clear it was only a matter of waiting. Neither Hanna nor Diana had
wanted those final days to be spent in a sterile hospital environment, and St
Luke’s Hospice—an elegant Georgian mansion set in its own grounds—had offered a
different kind of death. One where Hanna could stay with Diana as much as she
wanted to, where they could walk in the grounds and see the first shoots of
spring bulbs emerging from the grass. One where Diana could die without fanfare
or the constant noise of hospital monitors.

“Is she asleep?” Hanna glanced up to see Claire Larsen
standing at the door. Her gentle eyes crinkled into a smile, taking in Hanna’s disheveled
state.

“She’s been down for a while, she may wake up soon.” Hanna
stood up, realizing her legs had gone numb from the way she had been sitting on
the chair. Her back ached, too. She stretched to try and wake up her body.

“How is she?” Claire walked into the room, carrying a Hermes
bag in one hand, and a Dictaphone in the other. It was a strange combination.

“She’s been out of it for most of today, but yesterday, she
was lucid for the longest time, we had a great talk. Hey, what’s that?” Hanna
pointed at the small recording machine in Claire’s hand.

“Nothing.” Claire hid her hand behind her back.

Hanna looked at Claire curiously. “What are you two up to?”

Claire laughed; a quiet, tinkling sound that seemed to echo
off the walls. Diana didn’t as much as stir in response to the noise.

“You make us sound like teenage hooligans, Hanna. It’s a
secret. I promised not to tell.”

“You can tell me. I won’t let on.”

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you darling. Stop asking
questions.”

“It’s okay, she’s been sharing
her words of wisdom with me, too. Yesterday she spent hours telling me about
her life, and how she has very few regrets.” Hanna frowned as she remembered
their conversation.

They’d been sitting in the heated
conservatory that overlooked the lawn.

“You were the best thing that
ever happened to me, my darling.” Diana’s voice was thin, and each word was
punctuated by short, sharp breaths. “I was so lucky to have you in my life. I’m
thankful to be leaving you in this world. You’re my masterpiece.”

Hanna smiled, embarrassed at her
mum’s hyperbole. “You may be over-exaggerating a bit, but I’ll take it.”
Looking up, she saw a nurse bring in a tray of tea and water. She placed it on
the coffee table in front of them.

Her mother continued, already
caught up in her memories. “When I married Phillip, I was so in love I could
hardly think straight.” She gestured over to her cup of water, and Hanna held
it to her mouth, allowing her to sip from the plastic straw. “I was so certain
love could conquer all.”

Diana closed her eyes as if she
was remembering her days back in New York. Hanna, desperate for more
information, prompted, “But it couldn’t?”

“No it couldn’t. I should never
have married him, sweetheart. I knew I didn’t want to live in New York, and I
knew I’d hate being a banker’s wife. I really thought love would be enough.”

Hanna blinked, feeling the sting
of tears just under her eyelids. Diana never talked about her relationship with
Hanna’s father; in fact she rarely spoke of Philip at all. Hanna wasn’t sure
whether her mother had been trying to spare her feelings, or whether it simply
hurt too much to articulate. She was beginning to suspect the latter was true.

Diana managed to get her
breathing back under control. “I wish I’d been able to make it work for your
sake. Because I have never, for one single moment, regretted having you. I know
your relationship with your father has never been easy. I have to take the
blame for that.”

“You don’t!” Hanna protested,
taking Diana’s hand in her own. Her skin was cold and papery. “It would have
been so much worse if I’d lived there, and suffered everything you did.”

She looked over at her mother.
She was staring out of the window, watching the birds perching in the bare
branches of the tree to the left of the conservatory. They swooped down,
landing in twos before flying off again to a higher branch. Their tiny wings
fluttered as they moved.

“I broke your father’s heart. I
turned him into a bitter, cynical man, and it was all my fault. I should have
loved him enough to let him go before things went too far.” A tear ran down
Diana’s cheek, leaving a shiny trail along her translucent skin. Hanna simply
sat and held her hand, willing her own tears to dry up.

Wiping at her nose with a tissue,
Hanna tried to get her feelings under control. There was so much they needed to
say to each other over the next few days. They had so little time. Each second
passing was a reminder she would soon be alone, and Diana would be just a
memory. She decided to hide her mother’s words away for now, and reflect on
them when she was ready. To think about them now would unplug the dam. She
wasn’t ready for that.

She looked over at her mother. She was staring out of the
window, watching the birds perching in the bare branches of the tree to the
left of the conservatory. They swooped down, landing in twos before flying off
again to a higher branch. Their tiny wings fluttered as they moved.

“I broke your father’s heart. I turned him into a bitter,
cynical man, and it was all my fault. I should have loved him enough to let him
go before things went too far.” A tear ran down Diana’s cheek, leaving a shiny
trail along her translucent skin. Hanna simply sat and held her hand, willing
her own tears to dry up.

Wiping at her nose with a tissue, Hanna tried to get her
feelings under control. There was so much they needed to say to each other over
the next few days. They had so little time. Each second passing was a reminder
she would soon be alone, and Diana would be just a memory. She decided to hide
her mother’s words away for now, and reflect on them when she was ready. To
think about them now would unplug the dam. She wasn’t ready for that.

SLEEP WAS AN elusive commodity for her
those days; she spent most of the night chasing it, and most of the following
day craving it.  That night, she managed to fall off sometime after 4:00 a.m. A
few hours later, she was woken by the dipping of the mattress. She was so
groggy it took some moments for her to realize Richard was lying next to her,
still wearing his suit and his tie, his head resting on the pillow as he gazed
at her.

“Hi.” His voice was a whisper as her eyes opened and stared
at him.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t meet you at the airport—”

“Hush, you needed to get some sleep.” He placed a gentle
finger over her mouth. She kissed it, watching his face as he stared back at
her, unable to mask his concern as he took in her thin frame and drawn
expression. “My father picked me up; we even managed to grab a spot of
breakfast before he dropped me off.”

“That’s nice.”

“He sends his love. They want us to join them for dinner
tomorrow night, if you’re up for it.”

“I don’t know; I may have to be with Mum.”

He pulled her toward him, until her body lay over his. Her
leg hooked around his thigh, and her arm stretched out across his chest. She
closed her eyes and nuzzled into the fabric of his suit, smelling the aroma of
the wool mixed with the sandalwood of his cologne.

“We’ll just play it by ear, okay?” His words were soothing,
and she closed her eyes and submitted to their soft cadence. “We’ll do what we
need to do, and I’ll let them know one way or another. It doesn’t matter, none
of this does.”

She could feel his breathing; his chest gently rising and
falling, making her head move up and down. Without thinking, she undid the
buttons of his jacket and laid her ear against the thin fabric of his shirt
until she could hear his heartbeat hammering against his chest. The heat of his
body seeped through the cotton, warming her cheek, awakening feelings she’d
been suppressing for weeks.

Lifting her head up, she shuffled until her face was next to
his, their eyes so close it was impossible to stare into them without
everything going blurry. Her chest was pressed against him. The need to feel
more shot through her body like a cannonball.

Suddenly she couldn’t get enough.

Her kiss wasn’t gentle. It was hard and fierce, and took him
by surprise. She could feel his eyelids flutter against her face as he opened
them and stared at her, trying to work out what she was doing. For the last few
months, whenever they had been together, she had found herself unable to do
more than hold him, and give him gentle kisses and soft embraces. Sex had been
out of the question.

But now, she could feel her whole body tingling as she
pushed her tongue against his lips, dancing along the skin until he parted them
and touched it with his own. He kissed her back until they were both finding it
hard to breathe. She didn’t pull away. Instead she put her hand around his head
and pulled him closer until she could feel her lungs start to burn.

It was Richard who broke the kiss, unable to speak through
his harsh breaths. A flush of embarrassment covered his cheekbones when he
glanced down and saw his erection was digging in to her hip.

“I’m sorry.” He could barely meet her eyes as he spoke,
instead gazing over her shoulder at the blue wallpaper.

Hanna silently placed her hand under his chin, adjusting his
face until his gaze met hers. She watched as a look of confusion washed over
his features. When she was sure he was looking at her, she leaned in again,
brushing her lips gently against his, increasing the pressure until he could
feel the desperation seeping through her every pore.

Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his pants.
She reached inside and touched the skin of his stomach. The sensation of her
gentle hands against his abdomen did nothing to calm his reaction to her,
making him almost painfully hard.

She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling at his trousers, peeling
her own pajamas off with shaking hands. Her heart raced as she felt her flesh
against his, her response to his naked body visceral and intense. 

“Are you sure? I feel like I’m forcing myself on you,”
Richard whispered.

Hanna pulled him on top of her, her hands reaching for him,
circling around him as she tried to line him up with her body. “You’ve got that
the wrong way round.” Her eyes closed as she felt him enter her, gliding
through her until he was all the way in. “I need this, Richard. I need you,
please don’t stop.”