Danielle Steel - Honor Thyself

“What about Tahiti?” Chloe said in a single breath. “I can take my vacation in March.”

“Sounds great to me. I don't think I've ever been there. At least I don't think so. And if I have, I don't remember it, so it'll be new to me.” They both laughed at what she said. “We'll figure it out. Any way, I'm hoping to get back to L.A. on the twenty-first. Maybe you want to arrive on the twenty-second. The others aren't coming till Christmas Eve. It's not a lot of time, but it's a start. I'll be in Paris till then.” But she knew Chloe had to catch up on her work at British Vogue , and even work weekends, to make up for the time she'd been away, so Carole didn't expect to see her till just before Christmas in L.A. She wasn't well enough yet to fly over to London to see her. She wanted to take it easy until her flight back to L.A., a trip that would be something of a challenge. Less so now with a neurosurgeon traveling with them.

“I'll come on the twenty-second, Mom. And thank you,” Chloe said. Carole could tell it was heartfelt. If nothing else, Chloe appreciated the effort her mother was making. Maybe she always had made the effort, Carole told herself, and maybe her daughter had never noticed it before, or been old enough to understand it and be grateful. They were both making an effort now, and aware enough to be kind to each other. That alone was an enormous gift, for both of them.

“I'll let you know when I'm back at the hotel. Tomorrow or the day after. I'll call you,” Carole said calmly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Chloe said in a loving tone, and they both hung up after saying that they loved each other.

Carole's next call was to Anthony in New York. He was at the office and sounded busy, but he was pleased to hear her. She told him about going back to the hotel, and how much she was looking forward to seeing him at Christmas. He sounded in good spirits, although he warned her about befriending Matthieu again. It was a recurring theme in every call.

“I just don't trust him, Mom. People don't change. I remember how miserable he made you before. All I remember about our last days in Paris was you crying all the time. I don't even remember what it was about. I just know how sad you were. I don't want that to happen to you again. You've been through enough hard times. I'd rather see you back with Dad.” It was the first time he had said that to her, and it startled her. She didn't want to disappoint him, any more than she wanted to hurt Jason, but she was not going back to him.

“That isn't going to happen,” she said calmly. “I think we're better as friends.”

“Well, Matthieu is no friend,” her son growled at her. “He was a real bastard to you when you lived with him. He was married, wasn't he?” His recollections were fuzzy now, only the negative impression had remained, and it was extreme. He would have done anything to protect his mother from that grief again. Even the memory of it hurt him now. She deserved so much better than that, from any man.

“Yes, he was married,” she said quietly. She didn't want to be put in the position of defending him.

“I thought so. Why did he live with us then?” He had been there most of the time.

“People make arrangements like that in France. They have mistresses as well as wives. It's not a great situation for anyone, but they seem to accept it here. It was a lot harder to get divorced in those days. So people lived that way. I wanted him to get divorced, but his daughter died, and then his wife threatened suicide. He was too high up in the government to get out of his marriage without it causing a major incident in the press. It sounds crazy, but it was considered less shocking to do what we did. He said he'd get divorced, and we were going to get married. I think he really believed we would, there was just never a good time for him to get out. So we left,” she said with a sigh. “I didn't want to go, but I didn't want all of us living that way forever. It didn't seem right. For you, or for me. I'm too American for that. I didn't want to be some-one's mistress permanently, and lead a secret life.”

“What happened to his wife?” Anthony asked, sounding stern.

“She died. Last year apparently.”

“I'm going to be very upset if you get involved with him again. He's just going to hurt you. He did before.” He sounded more like a father than a son.

“I'm not involved with him,” she said, trying to reassure him and calm him down.

“Is it a possibility? Be honest, Mom.” She loved the sound of “Mom.” It still sounded new to her, and filled with love. Every time one of her children said it, it gave her a thrill.

“I don't know. I can't see that happening. That was all a long time ago.”

“He's still in love with you. I could see it the minute he walked in.”

“If so, he's in love with the memory of who I was then. We've all gotten old.” She sounded tired as she said it. So much had happened to her since she got to France. She had so much to recover from, relearn, and digest. It was overwhelming to think about.

“You're not old. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

“Neither do I. I can't even think about something like that right now.” He was comforted by what she said.

“Good. You'll be home soon. Just don't let him start something before you go.”

“I won't, but you have to trust me on that,” she said, feeling like a mother as she said it. No matter how much her son loved her, she had a right to make her own decisions and lead her own life. She wanted to remind him of that.

“I just don't trust him.”

“Why don't we give him the benefit of the doubt, for now. He wasn't a bad man, his situation was just a mess, and as a result, so was mine. I was foolish to get into it, but I was young, hardly older than you are now. I should have realized what would happen. He's French. In those days, Frenchmen didn't get divorced. I'm not sure they do even now. Having a mistress is a national tradition here.” She smiled, and at his end Anthony shook his head.

“If you ask me, it sucks.”

“Yeah, it did,” she admitted. She remembered that clearly now.

They changed the subject then, and he told her it was snowing in New York. And when he said it, the image of snow came to her mind, and she suddenly remembered taking them skating in Rockefeller Center when they were small, when the big Christmas tree was up, and it was snowing. It was just before they went to Paris, and everything was still right in their world. Jason had come to pick them up and had taken them all out for ice cream. She remembered them as the happiest days of her life. Everything had seemed so perfect, even if it wasn't.

“Bundle up,” Carole said to him, and he laughed.

“I will, Mom. You take care too. Don't do anything crazy when you get back to the Ritz, like go dancing.” She hit a blank spot, and didn't know if he meant it.

“Do I like to dance?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

“Like a lunatic. Best dancer on the floor. I'll remind you when I come out for Christmas. We'll put on some music, or I can take you to a club.”

“That sounds like fun.” If she didn't lose her balance and fall over, she thought to herself, dismayed that there were still so many things about herself she didn't know. At least there was someone to remind her.

They chatted for a few more minutes and hung up, after she told him she loved him too. And then Jason called her. He had walked into their son's office just as Anthony was hanging up, and he said his mother sounded pretty good. Carole was touched that Jason called.

“I hear it's snowing in New York,” she said to Jason.

“Like crazy. Four inches in the last hour. They said we'll have two feet of snow by tonight. Lucky for you you're going back to L.A. and not coming here. I heard it's seventy-five degrees there today. I can't wait to come out for Christmas.”