The Kiss (21 page)

“She doesn't know anyone's there,” Gordon said calmly. He was sure of that, he didn't believe that people in comas heard things, or sensed what was happening. Especially after seeing her, he was convinced that was nonsense, and he was not going to allow the boy to go. It would be insane, and too great a risk for anyone to take him there, he was much too frail to travel, or even leave the house.

“Then why are you going if she won't know you're there?” Teddy asked Sophie pointedly.

“She's not sick,” Gordon said sensibly. “And I think she should. I'll stay here with you.”

“You're not going back, Papa?” Sophie looked shocked, but didn't say anything when he shook his head.

“Not yet. I'll wait till you come home. You can go tomorrow for the day if you want, or spend the night, whatever you prefer.”

“I thought I'd stay a little while, maybe a few days.”

“We'll see how she is, but don't stay too long,” Gordon said, and then left the room. He had no intention of being alone in the house with his son for an extended period of time. He wanted Sophie to take over his care, and she couldn't do that if she was in London with her mother.

Sophie slept in Teddy's bed that night, with her arms around him, and she got up early the next day while he was still asleep. She showered and dressed, and she was ready to leave for the airport by the time he woke up.

“Are you going now?” he asked sleepily. “I want to come.” But he was too tired and weak to move. The night before had taken a toll on him, and he looked less well than he had in a long time.

“I'll be back soon,” Sophie whispered, and then left his room. She went to say good-bye to her father, but he had already left for the bank. A ticket had been arranged for her the night before, and she had a reservation at Claridge's. She knew the name of the hospital where her mother was. St. Thomas' Hospital. And she still had money left over from her trip. Her father's driver was waiting for her outside, and half an hour later she was at Roissy There had been no traffic at all. And Sophie looked far calmer and more mature than she felt.

Her flight landed at noon local time, and a car from Claridge's drove her straight to the hospital. She felt very grown up going there, in a simple navy dress and a pair of shoes her mother had bought for her. Her
hair was pulled back, and she was well dressed, but to anyone who saw her, even at eighteen she looked like a child, with huge frightened eyes filled with sorrow.

The nurses smiled at her when she spoke to them at the desk. She explained who she was, and one of them took her straight to her mother's room. The door across the hall was open, and she saw a man watching her. He had no other choice, they had turned him on his side, and he was looking toward the door, unable to move.

Cautiously, she stepped into her mother's room and was instantly shocked by what she saw there. Her mother looked deathly pale, with a huge bandage on her head. A respirator was breathing for her, and there were monitors and tubes coming from every part of her. Sophie's eyes filled with tears as she approached the bed, and she stood there for a long time just looking at her and touching her hand, and then finally a nurse pulled a chair up to the bed for her, and Sophie sat down. Instinctively, Sophie started talking to Isabelle, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could hear her. She told her how much she loved her, and begged her to live. There was no sign of life from Isabelle. The only thing that moved was the respirator, and the little lines of light on the monitors. There was no other sound or movement in the room. Her mother looked even more terrifying than she'd expected. It was hard to believe she'd survive it.

Sophie sat there for a long time, and then finally, around four o'clock, she walked out of the room. The same man who had watched her go in was looking at
her again. The nurses had told him who she was, but he would have known anyway. She looked like a very young Isabelle.

“Sophie?” he called out, and she started at the sound of her name, surprised that he knew who she was. And she slowly approached and stood in his doorway.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly, she was deeply upset by what she had just seen. He wished he could put his arms around her, for Isabelle's sake, and his own. There was so little he could do for her.

“My name is Bill Robinson. Your mother and I are friends. I was in the car with her,” he said, as though to apologize for her being there at all. “I'm so sorry about what happened.” She nodded, looking at him. She didn't remember her mother ever mentioning his name, but he looked like a nice man, and he was also obviously very badly hurt, but, unlike her mother, he was awake and alive.

“What happened to you in the accident?” Sophie asked carefully, she was afraid to enter the room. And she still didn't fully understand who he was, or why he had been with her mother.

“I fractured my neck, and hit my head. But your mom is in a lot worse shape than I am,” he said, looking sad. “I'd give anything to change places with her, Sophie. I hope you know that. I'd give my life for her if I could.” Sophie was touched by what he said, he seemed like a nice man. And she wondered how he and her mother had come to be friends. Her mother never went anywhere, because of Teddy.

“How is Teddy taking it?” he asked. “Does he know?”

“My father told him last night,” she said, feeling strange. It was odd the way he seemed to know them all, without their knowing him. “He's very upset. He had a fever last night, but he wanted to come. I have to go home to take care of him tomorrow. I'd rather stay, but I think he needs me there.” She was stepping into Isabelle's shoes, and Bill wished he could reach out and touch her, she looked so like her mother.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Bill asked, feeling as helpless as she did. There was nothing anyone could do at this point. They couldn't change what had happened to them, and whether Isabelle came out of the coma or not was in the hands of God.

“No, I'm fine,” she said. But she looked unspeakably sad.

“Where are you staying?”

“At Claridge's.”

“My wife and daughters are there. If you have any problem tonight, give them a call.” And just as he said it, Cynthia and the girls walked down the hall, and saw Sophie talking to him from the doorway of his room. He introduced everyone, and then Sophie said she should go. She didn't want to intrude. She thought his daughters looked nice, and guessed correctly that Jane was about the same age she was. Sophie said good-bye politely to all of them, and then walked away down the hall. She was going to come back later that night, to see her mother again. It was all she wanted to do.

“Is that her daughter?” Cynthia asked quietly.

“Yes, it is. She has a son too, but he's very ill.” Cynthia made no comment, and started to straighten up his room, for lack of something better to do. And the girls chatted with him.

They had decided to leave the next day. They were going to Paris for a week, and they were going to come through London to see him on the way home. He thought it was a great idea, and wanted them to have some fun. He and Cynthia had agreed to tell them about the divorce on the way back, and then they could adjust to the idea of it once they went home. He didn't want to spoil Paris for them. And Cynthia was taking them out to dinner that night. They were going to use his membership at Harry's Bar. And just hearing that made him think of Isabelle, and going there with her.

Bill was lying quietly on his back, thinking about her that night, when Sophie came back to see her mother. And this time, she stopped and walked into the room to see how he was.

“How do you feel, Mr. Robinson?” she asked politely as he smiled at her.

“About the same. How are you?” She shrugged, and her eyes filled with tears. It broke her heart to see her mother like that, and there was no sign of her making any progress toward consciousness at all. She was suspended in a faraway, distant place, from which no one knew if she would ever return. The nurses had told him that she could live for years like that, and never come out of the coma before she eventually died. It was a hideous thought and a terrible waste of
an extraordinary woman, and it seemed so desperately unfair. Ever since the accident, Bill had wished that he had died and she had been spared.

“How did you meet my mom?” Sophie asked, standing next to his bed. She had been wondering about it ever since she'd met him that afternoon. Her father hadn't said she was in the car with anyone, and Sophie had been surprised when Bill spoke to her.

“We met a long time ago, at the American Embassy in Paris.” He suddenly needed to talk about her, and he was glad Sophie had asked. “We have lunch a couple of times a year, and we talk on the phone sometimes. And she tells me all about Teddy and you.” Sophie wanted to ask him if he was in love with her, or her mother with him, but as they were both married, she thought it would be rude. But it seemed odd to her that she had never heard about him. Her mother had never mentioned his name.

“Do you know my father too?” she asked, and he smiled, and then invited her to sit down, which she did.

“Yes, I do. I think he's very angry at me since the accident. I think he believes that it would have never happened to her if we hadn't gone out to dinner. I would feel that way too in his shoes.”

“It's not your fault. The nurse said your driver was killed. It's all so terrible. I don't understand how something like that can happen,” and then tears filled her eyes again, “My mother is such a good person, this seems so wrong.”

“Yes, she is a very good person.” There were tears in his eyes too, and he stretched out a hand and held
hers. In an odd way, it was like touching Isabelle, and for Sophie, this man who was a friend of hers was like a way of reaching out to her. They shared an unusual bond through Isabelle.

“I wasn't always nice to her,” Sophie confessed after a while. “I used to get angry at her. She spent so much time with Teddy, when I was younger, I thought she didn't have enough time for me.” It was a way of confessing her sins and the things she regretted now, and he understood.

“She loves you so much, Sophie. She never said anything about you except that you're a wonderful girl.” All he wanted was to reassure her now. It was all he could do for her.

“Was she happy that night?” Sophie asked sadly. “Was she having fun?” It was an odd question to ask him, and all he could think of as she questioned him was their first and last kiss.

“Yes, she was. We went to see a wonderful art exhibit that afternoon, and she was excited about it. And then we went out to dinner. I was here to see the American ambassador,” he stretched the truth a bit for both their sakes, “and we ran into each other at Claridge's and decided to have dinner.” He had no reason to tell this child that they had met in London intentionally and he was in love with her. Isabelle wouldn't have wanted her to know, nor would he. “We hadn't seen each other in a long time.”

“My mother never has much fun. She's always taking care of Teddy, and stays at home.”

“I know. That's what she wants to do. She loves you both very much.” Sophie nodded, and they sat there
in silence next to each other for a while, and then finally Sophie stood up. She still didn't really know who he was, but felt she had found a new friend. She stood smiling at him for a moment before she left, and all he could see as he looked at her was Isabelle, and the woman Sophie would be one day.

“I'll come to see you tomorrow,” Sophie promised him. “I'll be here in the morning before I leave.”

“I'd like that very much. Thank you for talking to me, Sophie.” It had been a moment of comfort in a terribly lonely time for him, more than she knew, or he even understood. Life, as he had known it, was about to change forever. He would never again walk, or jump, or dance, or stroll down the street. His movements, like his life, would be complicated from now on. He had given up his marriage, and lost the woman he loved. He had nothing to hang on to at the moment, and was lost in an open sea with no sign of land around him. It was comforting to spend a few minutes with Isabelle's daughter as they tried to guess where their lives would take them now. Even if he never saw her again, which he knew was a distinct possibility, he was grateful that they had met.

Cynthia and the girls came to say good-bye to him the next morning, on the way to the airport. And Sophie arrived just after they left. She sat with her mother for over an hour, and then came to say goodbye to him. And she noticed that he looked depressed, she assumed because his family had left and he was alone again. She had no idea that it was far more because of her mother. She had no way of knowing that he was in love with her, although she suspected it.

“Good-bye, Mr. Robinson,” Sophie said politely as she prepared to leave. “I hope you'll be better soon.” He didn't ask her if she would be back again, it seemed inappropriate since neither of them knew yet if Isabelle would live.

“Take good care of yourself … for your mom's sake, Sophie. I know she'd be very worried about you now. Be good to yourself, and take care of Teddy,” he said, with tears in his eyes. He sounded like her mother, as though she'd been leaving on a trip. “I'll be thinking about you.”

“I'll say a prayer for you when I go to church,” she said softly. She felt sad leaving him, as though she were leaving a piece of her mother. He was so nice, she was glad they'd been friends, and that she'd had a nice time with him.

“I'll say one for you too.” He reached out and took her hand and kissed it gently, because he couldn't kiss her cheek in the contraption he was in. And then with a shy smile, she left him, and he lay there in his bed, with his eyes closed, thinking of her.

And a little while later, he had himself wheeled into Isabelle's room. She was as silent and removed as ever, but he lay in the bed they rolled next to hers, and he talked to her about his visit with Sophie.

“She's a wonderful girl. I can see why you're proud of her,” he said, as though she could hear him, but he still hoped she did. And then he lay there for a long time, thinking strong thoughts for Isabelle, willing her to reach out and live again. He was tired when they wheeled him back to his room. His frequent visits to her had ceased to cause comment among the nursing
staff. They had come to accept it as a loving gesture he made. No one asked the reason for it, or wondered what had happened between them, and there were a number of nurses who believed that if anything could bring Isabelle back, Bill could.