Danielle Steel - The Kiss

“You have to come with me,” Bill said suddenly, grabbing at her arm. “Listen to me…” he said, sounding angry at her. She wasn't listening to him, and she was nearly at the light. “You have to listen to me … Teddy and Sophie need you to go back…. I have to go back to the girls. Come back with me, Isabelle…. We can come back another time.”

She hesitated, but only for a fraction of an instant, as he touched her hand. “What if we don't get another chance?”

“We will someday … but now it isn't time.”

“It is for me. I don't want to go back….” She looked at him imploringly, and he could feel her slip away. “Please, Bill… come with me. I don't want to go alone.”

“I want you to stay with me. I love you, Isabelle. Don't leave me now.” He was crying as he said the words, and he hung his head, not wanting her to see, but she stood there looking at him, and then he looked up and held his hand out to her. “Take my hand … I won't let you go, I swear. You have to come back with me.” And as he said it, she suddenly looked very tired, and she looked back at Teddy and the girls. She hesitated for a long time, and then slowly, she began to inch her way back toward him. It seemed to be a great deal harder to go backward than to move forward. And he could see the light behind her now, as she started to come toward him again. And a moment later, he was holding her in his arms. He was kissing her and holding her and she was smiling at him. Neither of them was sure where they had been, but all they knew was that they had to go back to their children now. And he could feel her hand tightly holding his.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked as they walked along. They couldn't hear the children's voices, but they knew they were waiting for them. It was growing dark, and the light behind them seemed much dimmer now.

“I'm sure,” he said, and kept a tight grip on her hand.

“It's getting late … it's so dark … how will we find our way back?” she asked. She had a sense that they had both gotten lost before, and she didn't want to get lost again.

“Just hold on to me,” Bill said. He could breathe more easily again. The air around them didn't seem quite as thin. “I know the way back.” He put an arm around her then, and they kept walking for a long time. It was Isabelle who was tired now, and Bill who was getting strong.

“I need to stop for a while,” she said. They could both see the rock where she had been sitting before while she waited for him, but he wouldn't let her stop this time. They had to get home.

“We don't have time. You'll be all right. You can rest when we get back.”

And without saying another word, she followed him. It was dark around them by then, but she had a sense that he knew where he was going. All she wanted was to sleep, and lie down by the side of the road. But Bill wouldn't let go of her hand, and he wouldn't let her slow down, and she didn't know how they got there or when, but after a time she had a sense that they were home.

They were in a room she didn't recognize, and she felt safe next to him. There were children everywhere, and she could see Teddy and Sophie laughing with some friends, and Bill's girls were talking to him. And while he was hugging them, Isabelle finally lay down. She knew it was safe to by then, and all she wanted to do was sleep next to him. She looked over at him and smiled, and he smiled back to her. And as she drifted off to sleep, she knew he would always be there with her.

“Jesus, I never thought we'd make this one,” the surgical nurse said to the anesthesiologist as they left the operating room. They had been battling for four hours to keep Isabelle's blood pressure high enough to keep her alive while they were operating on her. Her crushed organs had been repaired, and her arm, and for the first half hour everyone in the operating room had been absolutely certain she would die. She had lost an enormous amount of blood. They had no idea why she'd turned around in the end, if it was the medications they'd administered, the transfusions, the surgery, or just sheer luck. But whatever it was, everyone agreed, it was a miracle she was alive.

“I've never seen a surgery like that. She's damn lucky to be alive,” one of the attending surgeons agreed. “She's not out of the woods yet, but I think she actually might make it. Cases like this restore my faith in God.” He smiled as he left the operating room, dripping with sweat. It had been a long night, and an exhausting uphill fight.

Two of the other nurses were coming out of the surgery next door where they'd operated on Bill, and they looked as tired as everyone else.

“How was yours?” one asked the other.

“We nearly lost him four or five times. He pulled through, but he's got a lot of damage to his upper spine. We had to pull him back again and again. We nearly gave up the last time.”

“Sounds like ours. It's amazing that they survived.”

“How is she?”

“Still critical. And I thought she'd lose the arm. We managed to save it for her. We had a hell of a problem with her liver and her heart. I've never seen so much damage, and seen the patient come out of it alive.”

“It shows that you never know, doesn't it?” It was eight in the morning by then, and both teams went to the cafeteria for coffee and scones, as Isabelle and Bill were wheeled into separate rooms. Both were still in a deep sleep after surgery, and by then Isabelle's handbag had been found. Her room key from Claridge's was in it, the police had called the hotel, and were told that her name was Isabelle Forrester, she was French and had a Paris address. The assistant manager had promised to go to her room immediately to see if her passport could be found, so he could get information on who to call in an emergency. But as yet no one had called.

They had all the information they needed on Bill. His home phone number was in his wallet, and he listed his wife as his next of kin. The desk clerk at the hospital was planning to call Cynthia and tell her about the accident and that Bill had survived.

Bill and Isabelle were both listed as critical. Isabelle's head injury was a factor too, but it was not nearly as severe as her internal injuries. And their greatest fear for Bill was that his spinal cord injury might have compromised his ability to walk, if he survived. It was just low enough, mercifully, that he had avoided total paralysis. The big question for him was going to be the use of his legs. They both had a long stretch of road to travel before their survival would be assured. It had been one of the worst accidents the police had seen in recent years, and eleven people had been killed: the drivers of both vehicles and nine passengers of the bus. For most of the night, as they worked on Isabelle and Bill, the surgical teams had been almost sure the death toll would reach thirteen. Only by a minor miracle were both Isabelle and Bill still alive.

The desk clerk in the ward filed some papers on her desk before she sat down with a sigh. The assistant manager at Claridge's had gone into Isabelle's room, and found her passport, which listed her husband as next of kin. They had the number in Paris, and Bill's number in Connecticut. She hated making calls like that. She took a sip of coffee to steel herself and then dialed Paris first. The phone rang several times before a man answered, and the clerk at the hospital took a breath.

“Monsieur Forrester, s'il vous plaît,” she said in heavily British-accented French.

“I am he,” he said in clipped tones. She recognized the accent as American, and asked him quickly in English if Isabelle was his wife.

“Yes, she is,” he said, sounding concerned. The clerk rapidly told him that she was calling from St. Thomas' Hospital and that Isabelle had been injured in a car accident the night before. She explained that her limousine had been hit by a bus.