“You're one lucky woman,” he told her. He predicted that she would have memory lapses for six months to a year, which was what they had told her in Paris too. She wasn't crazy about the doctor, she liked the one in Paris better. But she didn't have to see him again for another month, just to check in. They were going to do another CT scan then, just to keep an eye on her. And physical therapists were going to continue to work with her.
The doctor who impressed both Carole and Stevie was the neuropsychologist Carole saw in the same office immediately after the neurologist, who had been methodical, precise, and very dry. The neuropsychologist was a woman, who bounced into the examining room to see Carole like a ray of sunshine. She was tiny, elfin, with huge blue eyes, freckles, and bright red hair. She looked like a pixie, and was very sharp.
She smiled at Carole as soon as she walked in, and introduced herself as Dr. Oona O'Rourke, and was as Irish as a leprechaun, with a brogue. It made Carole smile just looking at her, as the doctor hopped up on the table like a sprite in her white coat, and smiled at the two women sitting across from her in chairs. Stevie had been in the examining room with Carole for moral support and to help fill in details she might have forgotten or didn't know.
“So, I hear you did some flying around a tunnel in Paris. Pretty impressive. I read about it. How was it?”
“Not as much fun as it was cracked up to be,” Carole commented. “It wasn't what I had planned for my trip to Paris.” Dr. O'Rourke glanced at her chart then and commented on the memory loss, and wanted to know how it was going.
“Much better,” Carole said openly. “It was pretty weird in the beginning. I had no idea who I was, or who anyone else was. My memory was completely gone.”
“And now?” The bright blue eyes saw all, and her smile was warm. She was an added feature they hadn't had in Paris, but Carole's new L.A. neurologist thought the psychological factor was important, and at least three or four meetings with her were required, although Carole was doing well.
“My memory is much better. I still have some holes, but they're nothing compared to when I first woke up.”
“Have you had any anxiety attacks? Trouble sleeping? Head aches? Strange behavior? Depression?” Carole answered no to all of the above, with the exception of the mild headache she'd had that day when she woke up. Dr. O'Rourke agreed with Carole that she was doing extremely well. “It sounds like you were very lucky, if you can call it that. That kind of brain injury can be very hard to predict. The mind is a strange and wondrous thing. And sometimes I think what we do is more art than science. Are you planning to go back to work?”
“Not for a while. I'm working on a book, and I thought I'd start looking at scripts in the spring.”
“I wouldn't rush it. You may be tired for a while. Don't push. Your body will tell you what it's ready to do, and it may bite back if you push too hard. You could get some memory lapses again if you overdo it.” The prospect of that impressed Carole, and Stevie gave her a warning look. “Anything else you're concerned about?” she asked, and waited for Carole's response.
“Not really. Sometimes it scares me how close I came to dying. I still have nightmares about it.”
“That's reasonable.” Carole told her about the attack in the hospital then, by the remaining suicide bomber who had come back to kill her. “Sounds like you've really been through it, Carole. I think you should take it easy for a while. Give yourself a chance to heal from the emotional shock as well as the physical trauma. You've been through an awful lot. Are you married?”
“No, I'm widowed. My children and ex-husband are coming out for Christmas.” She looked happy as she said it, and the doctor smiled.
“Anyone else?”
Carole smiled. “I rekindled an old flame in Paris. He's coming out right after the holidays.”
“Good. Have some fun, you've earned it.”
They sat and talked for a while, and she suggested some exercises to sharpen Carole's memory, which sounded interesting and fun. The doctor was bright and lively and full of life. And Stevie and Carole commented on it when they left the office.
“She's cute,” Stevie commented.
“And smart,” Carole added. “I like her.” She felt as though she could ask or tell her anything if something unusual came up. She had even inquired about having sex with Matthieu, and Dr. O'Rourke had said it was fine and then warned her to use condoms, which made Carole blush. It had been a long time since she'd had to worry about that. Dr. O'Rourke commented with her impish grin that she didn't need to get an STD on top of everything else she'd been through. Carole agreed and laughed, feeling almost girlish again.
She felt relieved as she left the office that she had a doctor she could talk to, in case she felt the effects of the accident differently now that she was home. But so far she was doing well and felt fine. She was looking forward to the holidays with her family and to Stevie's wedding, both of which sounded like fun.
Carole insisted on stopping at Barney's for Stevie's dress on the way back from the doctor's office. Stevie tried on three dresses and fell in love with the first one. Carole bought it for her as a wedding present, and they found white satin Manolos on the main floor. The dress was long and showed off Stevie's statuesque figure. She was getting married in white. They had found a dark green dress for Carole. It was short, strapless, and the color of emeralds. She said she felt like the mother of the bride.
Chloe wasn't arriving till seven that night, so they had the afternoon to putter around the house and get things ready for her. Stevie was going to pick her up, and at the last minute, Carole decided to go with her. They left the house at six. Her florist had delivered a fully decorated Christmas tree at five, and the house suddenly looked like Christmas.
They talked about the wedding again on the way to the airport. Stevie was so excited, and Carole was too.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she said for the hundredth time that day, as Carole smiled at her. They both knew it was the right thing, and Carole said so again. “You don't think I'm crazy, do you? What if I hate him in five years?” Stevie was a maelstrom of emotions.
“You won't, and if you do, we'll talk about it then. And no, I don't think you're crazy. He's a good man, and he loves you, and you love him. Is he okay about not having kids?” Carole asked, looking concerned.
“He says he is. He says I'm enough for him.”
“That'll do,” Carole said.
As they got out of the car, Carole's cell phone rang. It was Matthieu. “What are you up to?” he asked with a happy voice.
“I'm picking up Chloe at the airport. I saw the doctor today, and he says I'm fine. And we found a wedding dress for Stevie on the way back.” It was fun sharing her activities with him. After the night mare in Paris, every minute seemed like a gift.
“Now you have me worried. You're doing far too much. Did the doctor say you could, or are you supposed to rest?”
It was nearly four in the morning in Paris. He had woken up, and decided to call her. She seemed much too far away. He loved hearing her voice. She sounded excited and young.
“He said I don't have to see him again for a month.” As she said it, she was suddenly reminded of when she was pregnant with his baby, and she pushed the thought from her mind. It made her too sad. He had always wanted doctor's reports from her then too, and kissed her belly as it grew. He had come to one of her appointments, to listen to the baby's heartbeat. They had been through a lot together, especially after the miscarriage and when his daughter died. She and Matthieu had history that bound them to each other, even now.
“I miss you,” he told her again as he had the day before. She had been out of his life for fifteen years, and now that she was back, each day seemed interminable without her. He could hardly wait to come. He was leaving the next day to go skiing with his children, and promised to call her from there. He wished that she could join them on the trip, even if she couldn't ski. She had never met his children in the old days and he wanted her to now. She knew it would be bittersweet for her when she did. In the meantime, she was looking forward to spending time with her own.