“No, thanks.”
“Why don't you go lie down for a while? I think you just had your morning exercise.”
“Shit, am I ever going to feel normal again? I wasn't this tired in the hospital. I feel like I died.”
“You did,” Stevie confirmed. She could see that Carole was discouraged, but what she was going through was normal. The change from hospital to real world, however gently handled and carefully masterminded, was like being shot out of a cannon for her. “You'll feel better in a day or two, or maybe even before that. You need to get used to your surroundings, and not being wrapped in cotton wool at the hospital. When I had my appendix out two years ago, I felt about ninety years old when I got home. Five days later I was dancing my ass off at a club. Give it time, kid. Give it time,” Stevie reassured her as Carole sighed. It discouraged her to feel so shaken and weak.
Carole walked slowly into her bedroom, and stood looking around with amazement. She looked at the desk and saw her computer and handbag on it. She felt as though she had left the room hours before to go on her fateful walk. When she turned to Stevie there were tears in her eyes.
“It's such a strange feeling knowing that when I left this room, I almost died a few hours later. It's kind of like dying and being reborn, or getting another chance or something.” Stevie nodded and hugged her friend.
“I know. I thought of it too. Do you want to switch rooms?” Carole shook her head. She didn't want to be indulged or babied. She just needed time to adjust to all that had happened, not only physically, but psychologically as well. She lay down on the bed, and looked around, as Stevie brought her the rest of her tea. She felt better already, lying down. It had been stressful for her seeing the press, although it didn't show. It never did. She looked like a queen as she waved graciously, smiled at them, and walked past, with her long blond hair, and diamond studs sparkling on her ears.
Stevie ordered lunch for them eventually, and Carole felt better after she ate. She luxuriated in a hot tub, in the giant bathtub in the pink marble bathroom, and then lay on her bed again in the heavy pink terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel. It was four o'clock when Matthieu called, and by then she'd had a nap, and felt more herself.
“How is it being back at the hotel?” he asked kindly.
“It was harder than I thought it would be getting here,” she admitted to him. “I was wiped out when we arrived, but I'm feeling better now. I can't believe what a jolt it was. And we ran into some paparazzi at the back door. I probably looked like the Bride of Frankenstein getting out of the car. I could hardly walk.”
“I'm sure you looked beautiful. You always do.”
“One of the paparazzi threw me a rose, which was sweet. It almost knocked me down. The expression ‘you could have knocked me over with a feather’ seems to have taken on new meaning.” He laughed at what she said.
“I was going to ask you to take a walk with me, but it doesn't sound like you're up to it. Would you like a visit instead? Maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow. Or a drive, if you prefer.”
“Would you like to come to tea?” she offered. She didn't feel up to having him to dinner, and wasn't sure she should anyway. Their relationship was tenuous, heavily impacted by the sorrows of the past, as well as the love they'd shared.
“That sounds perfect. Five o'clock?” he suggested, grateful that she was willing to see him.
“I'm not going anywhere,” she assured him. “I'll be here.”
He was there an hour later, in a dark business suit, and his gray topcoat. It had gotten bitter cold that afternoon, and his cheeks were pink from the wind. Carole was wearing the same black sweater and jeans she had worn leaving the hospital, the black suede loafers and diamond studs on her ears. She looked exquisite to him, although very pale. But her eyes were bright, and she felt better as they sat down to tea, pastry, and macarons from La Durée, which the hotel had sent her. He'd been pleased to see the guards on duty outside her room, and noticed hotel security in the hall around the floor. They were taking no chances with her, as well they shouldn't. The incident at the hospital had put everyone on warning that she was at risk.
“How was Lyon?” she asked with a quiet smile. She was happy to see him.
“Tiresome. I had a court appearance I couldn't put off. And I almost missed my train back. The trials and tribulations of an ordinary citizen and lawyer.” He laughed at himself, and was obviously happy to see her too.
She seemed to come alive again as they sat and chatted, and became more animated and more herself. She ate half a dozen macarons, he noticed with pleasure, and shared a coffee éclair with him. He hoped her appetite had returned, she was looking very thin, but not quite as pale as when he walked in. Considering how far she had come in recent weeks, it was remarkable to see her sitting there in diamond earrings and jeans. She'd had her nails done in the room that afternoon. They were a clear pale pink, which was the only color she'd worn for years. He silently admired her long graceful fingers as she sipped her tea. Stevie had left them alone, and retired to her own room with the nurse. Stevie was satisfied that Carole was comfortable alone with him. She had looked at her questioningly before she left the room, and Carole smiled and nodded, letting her know it was all right.
“I was afraid I'd never see this room again,” Carole admitted to him, as they sat in the living room of the suite.
“I was afraid you wouldn't either,” he confessed, with a look of relief. He was aching to take a walk with her, and get her out of the hotel, but she was obviously not ready to venture so far afield, although she would have liked it too.
“I always seem to run into trouble in Paris, don't I?” she said with a mischievous grin, as Matthieu laughed at her.
“I'd say this time was a bit extreme, wouldn't you?” he commented and she nodded, and then they started talking about her book.
She'd had some ideas for it in the past few days, and hoped she could get back to work once she was back in L.A. He admired her for it. Publishers were always asking him to write his memoirs, but he hadn't done it yet. There were a lot of things he said he wanted to do, which was why he was planning to retire in the coming year, to do the things he dreamed of, before it was too late. His wife's death had reminded him that life was short and precious, particularly at his age. He was going skiing with his children at Val d'Isere over Christmas. Carole said regretfully that her skiing days were over. The last thing she needed was another bump on her head, and he agreed. It reminded them both of the fun they'd had skiing together during her time in France. They had gone several times, and taken her kids. He had been a fabulous skier, and so was she. He had been on a national racing team in his youth.
They talked about a multitude of things as darkness fell outside. It was nearly eight o'clock when he got up, feeling guilty for keeping her up for so long. She needed rest. He had stayed quite a while, and she looked tired but relaxed. And then she exclaimed as she looked out the long-curtained windows as they stood up. It was snowing outside, and she opened the window and put her hand outside, reaching toward the snowflakes as he watched her. She turned to look at him with the wide eyes of a child.
“Look! It's snowing!” she said happily. He nodded and smiled at her, as she looked into the night and felt gratitude overwhelm her. Everything had new meaning to her, and the smallest pleasures brought her joy. She was the greatest joy of all for him. She always had been. “It's so beautiful,” she said in wonder, as he stood just behind her but didn't touch her. He was basking in her presence and trembling inside.