Danielle Steel - Honor Thyself

“Yes, I did.” He was honest about that at least, and he had been honest about the rest of it now too. It proved her right finally, but hearing it even now was painful. She remembered too well how much she had loved him, and how badly he had hurt her. “Power is like a drug to men. It's hard to give up. I was addicted to it. But I was even more addicted to you. It nearly killed me when you left me. But I still couldn't divorce her, or give up my job.”

“I never wanted you to give up your job. That wasn't the issue. But I did want you to divorce her.”

“I couldn't.” He hung his head as he said it, and then looked her in the eye again. “I didn't have the courage.” It was an enormous admission, and Carole didn't answer for a minute.

“That's why I left you.”

His voice was a whisper. “You were right.” She nodded.

They sat together in silence for a long time, and then as he looked at her, her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep. For the first time in a long time, she was at peace. He sat there, watching her, and then he finally stood up, and left the room on silent feet.

Chapter 12

Carole awoke again that night, feeling better after a long sleep. She remembered then that Matthieu had visited her, what he'd said, and she lay in bed, thinking about him for a long time. Despite her spotty memory, he had exorcised a lot of ghosts for her. She appreciated that he'd been honest with her, finally, and told her that she'd been right to leave. It was a gift of freedom to hear that from him. She had always wondered what would have happened if she'd stayed—if she should have waited longer. He had confirmed to her now that it wouldn't have made a difference.

There was a nurse in the room with her when she woke up, and two guards outside her door, thanks to the fuss Matthieu had made. She had called Jason and her children to tell them about the attack. She assured them she was fine, and had been lucky once again. Jason had offered to come back to Paris, but she assured them the police had the matter well in hand. She was still shaken, but told them she was safe. All of them were horrified that she had been the victim of a terrorist incident on the heels of the first one. And Anthony warned her about Matthieu again. He was threatening to come and protect her himself, but she told him all was well.

She lay in bed thinking about all of it in the middle of the night. The terrorist, Matthieu, and the pieces of their history he'd shared. It all left her feeling anxious and unnerved.

She called Stevie then at the hotel, feeling foolish for bothering her, but desperate for a familiar voice, despite the late hour. Stevie had been asleep.

“How's your cold?” Carole asked her. She felt better herself although she was still sick, and shaken by the events of the day. It seemed more frightening now in retrospect.

“Better, I think, but not great,” Stevie said. “What are you doing up at this hour?” Carole told her then what had happened, when the boy with the knife had gotten into her room. “ What? Are you kidding? Where the fuck was the security guy?” Stevie was horrified, as Carole's family had been. It was beyond belief, and would be on the news the next day.

“Out to lunch. They said his relief never came.” Carole heaved a long sigh and lay in her bed, thinking how lucky she had been. “It scared me to death.” She still shook when she thought about it. She was glad Matthieu had arrived right afterward.

“I'm coming over there right now. They can put a cot in your room. I'm not leaving you alone again.”

“Don't be silly. You're sick. I'm okay. They won't let something like that happen again. Matthieu was here, and he raised hell. He must still have some clout. The head of the hospital was up here bowing and scraping in about five minutes. And the police were around for hours. They won't let anything happen now. It just scared me to death.”

“No wonder.” It was hard to believe she had been the victim of two incidents.

The police had said they would come to take a detailed report from her the next day. They hadn't wanted to upset her further by pressing her right after it happened. And her assailant was in custody, so she was safe.

“I remembered him from the tunnel,” Carole said, still sounding shaken, so Stevie changed the subject to distract her, and asked about Matthieu.

“Did the mystery man shed any further light on your affair?” Stevie was still curious about him.

“Yes. I remembered a lot of it myself. I remembered the boy with the knife too,” she said, going back to the attack. “He was in the cab next to me in the tunnel, and he ran away. The suicide bombers must have told him he was going to die. Apparently, he wasn't ready for the seventy-seven virgins he was going to get in Heaven.”

“No, he would rather have killed you. Christ, I can't wait till we get home.”

“Me too,” Carole said with a sigh. “This has been one hell of a trip. I think I got my answers though. If I ever get my memory back, and can learn how to use a computer again, I think I'm ready to write the book. I'll have to add something about all this. It's too good not to use.”

“You think maybe you could do a cookbook next time, or a children's book? I don't like the research you've been doing for this book.”

But the answers she'd gotten about Jason and Matthieu were what she had needed for herself. She knew that now. And better yet, she had heard it from them, instead of guessing and figuring it out on her own.

“What are you hearing from Alan?” Carole asked as they chatted and she started to unwind. It was nice to have someone to talk to late at night. She missed that with Sean. She was starting to remember now, just little bits. Stevie telling her things about him had brought some of it back.

“He says he misses me,” Stevie answered her. “He's antsy for me to come home. He says he's pining for my cooking. He must have lost his memory too. What's to miss? Chinese takeout, or deli food? I haven't cooked a decent meal for him in four years.”

“I don't blame him. I missed you today too.”

“I'll be there tomorrow. And I'm sleeping there tomorrow night.”

“No one's coming after me,” Carole said reassuringly. “All the other guys blew themselves up.” And they damn near blew her up too. “There's no one left.”

“I don't care. I'd rather be there with you.”

“I'd rather be at the Ritz,” Carole laughed, “than at the Pitié Salpêtrière. Hands down. You've got much better room service there.”

“Never mind,” Stevie said firmly. “I'm moving in. And fuck them if they don't like it. If they can't even keep a security guard on your door through lunch time, you need a watchdog over there.”

“I think Matthieu took care of that. They looked scared to death of him. And there are about a million guards in the hall tonight.”

“He scares me too,” Stevie said honestly. “He looks like a tough guy.”

“He is.” Carole remembered that about him. “But he wasn't with me. He was married. He just wouldn't leave his wife. We talked about it today. We lived together for two and a half years. He wouldn't divorce her, so I left.”

“I got into one of those once. They're hard to win. Most people don't. I never did it again. Alan may be an asshole at times, but at least he's mine.”

“Yeah, I guess it took me a while with Matthieu to figure that out. He told me he was leaving her when we met, that his marriage was over, and had been for ten years.”

“They always say bullshit like that. The only one who doesn't know about it is their wife. They never leave.”

“He stayed married to her till last year. He said I was right to go.”

“Apparently. And he divorced her now?” Stevie sounded surprised. At his age, no one got divorced. Especially in France.