Danielle Steel - Honor Thyself

“Alan? Why?” She looked guilty and vague.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I just was asking how he was.” And then she smiled at Stevie. “Okay. Cough it up. What's going on?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She was blushing. “He's fine. Great actually. He said to say hi.”

“You are so full of shit you're turning brown,” Carole said, laughing at her. “Something is going on.” There was a pregnant silence in the room. Stevie could never keep a secret of her own. Only Carole's.

“Okay, okay. I didn't want to tell you till I got home. And I haven't made up my mind. I have to talk to him, and see what the conditions are.”

“What conditions?” Carole looked mystified, as Stevie collapsed into a chair like a deflated balloon, with a sigh.

“He asked me to marry him last night,” Stevie confessed with an embarrassed smile.

“On the phone?”

“He couldn't wait. He even bought a ring. But I haven't said yes.”

“Take a look at the ring first,” Carole teased, and Stevie groaned. “Make sure you like the ring.”

“I don't know if I want to get married. He swears he won't screw up my job. He said it will be just like it is now, only better, with papers and a ring. If I do it, would you be my best man, or whatever you call it?”

“I think it's called a matron of honor, if I remember correctly. I'd be honored. I think you should say yes,” Carole volunteered.

“Why?”

“I think you love him,” Carole said simply.

“So? Why do we have to get married?”

“You don't. But it's a nice commitment to make. I felt the same way you do when I married Sean. Jason had dumped me for a younger woman. Matthieu lied to me and himself, and wouldn't leave his wife or his job, and broke my heart. The last thing I wanted was to get married again, or even fall in love. Sean talked me into it, and I never regretted it for a minute. It was the best thing I ever did. Just make sure Alan is the right guy.”

“I think he is,” Stevie sounded glum as she said it.

“Then see how you feel when you go back. You can have a long engagement.”

“He wants to get married on New Year's Eve in Vegas. How tacky is that?”

“Very. But it might be fun. The kids will be in St. Bart's with Jason. I could fly up,” Carole volunteered, and Stevie came over to hug her.

“Thank you. I'll let you know. I'm scared I'm going to say yes.”

“Maybe you're ready,” Carole said, looking at her with affection, trying to reassure her. “I think you are. You've been talking about it a lot lately.”

“That's because he has. He's obsessed with it.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Carole said warmly.

“You'd better be there to hold my hand if I do it,” Stevie said ominously, but she was smiling and looked happy.

“You bet,” Carole promised. “I wouldn't miss it.”

* * *

Carole had dinner with Matthieu again that night. For the first time, they went out. They went to L'Orangerie on the Ile Saint Louis, in the Seine, and she wore the only skirt she'd brought. Matthieu wore a dark suit and had had a haircut. He looked very proper, and extremely handsome, although he was still furious about the comments in the Herald Tribune. He was righteous indignation itself.

“For heaven's sake,” Carole said, laughing at him. “They're right. It's true. How can you be so outraged?” He was like a whore pretending to be a virgin, although she didn't say that to him.

“But no one knew!” He had been so proud of that, and it always irked her. She had hated being hidden and not sharing his life.

“We were lucky.”

“And careful.” He was right, they had been. They both knew they could have turned into a full-blown scandal at any moment. It was a miracle that they hadn't.

They talked about other things over dinner, and the food was delicious. He waited until dessert to open a delicate subject with her. Their future. He had been awake the night before, thinking about it. And the insinuation in the paper did it for him. It was time. They had been clandestine for too long in the past, and deserved respectability at least now, at their age. He said as much to her as they shared a tarte tatin with caramel ice cream that melted in her mouth.

“We are respectable,” Carole pointed out. “Extremely respectable. At least I am. I don't know what you've been up to lately. But I am a very proper widow.”

“So am I,” he said primly. “I haven't been involved with anyone since you left,” he added, and looking at him, she believed him. He had always claimed that she was the only woman he'd been involved with, other than his wife. “The piece in the Tribune makes us look dishonest and sly,” he complained.

“No, it doesn't. You are one of the most respected men in France, and I'm a movie star. What do you expect them to say? Has-been actress and washed-up politician seen going for a walk like two old farts? That's what we are.”

“Carole!” He laughed at what she said, looking shocked.

“They have to sell newspapers, so they tried to make us look more interesting than we are. And they made a lucky guess, or raised a lucky question. Unless you or I tell them, they'll never know for sure.”

“We know. That's enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“Enough to build the life we should have had years ago, and didn't, because I couldn't get out of my own way, and do what I promised.” He admitted it readily now, but hadn't then.

“What are you saying?” She looked worried.

He went right to the point. “Will you marry me, Carole?” He took her hand as he asked the question and looked deep into her eyes. She sat in silence for a long moment, and then shook her head. It took a superhuman effort to do it.

“No, Matthieu, I won't.” She sounded certain, and his face fell. He had been afraid that she would say that, and that it was too late.

“Why not?” He looked sad, but hoped he could change her mind.

“Because I don't want to be married,” she said, sounding tired. “I like my life the way it is. I was married twice. That's enough. I loved my late husband. He was a wonderful man. And I had ten good years with Jason. Maybe that's all you get. And I loved you with all my heart, and lost you.” It had nearly killed her, but she didn't say it. He knew it anyway, and had regretted it for fifteen years. She had gotten over it eventually. He never had.

“You didn't lose me. You left,” he reminded her, and she nodded.

“I never had you,” she corrected. “Your wife did. France did.”

“Now I'm widowed, and retired,” he pointed out.

“Yes, you are. I'm not. Widowed. But not retired. I want to make some more movies, if I get decent parts.” She was excited about that again. “I could be traveling all over the place, just like I did when I was married to Jason, and even when I was with you. I don't want someone at home complaining about it, or maybe even following me around. I want my own life. And even if I don't go back to making movies, I want to be free to do what I want. For me, the UN, the causes I believe in. I want to spend time with my children, and write this book, if I can ever get my computer turned on again. I wouldn't be a good wife.”

“I love you just the way you are.”

“And so do I, love you, I mean. But I don't want to be tied down, or make that kind of commitment. And more than anything, I don't want my heart broken again.” That was the essence of it for her, more than her career and her causes. She was too afraid. She already knew she was in love with him again. It was dangerous for her. She didn't want to abandon herself to him now. It had been too painful last time, although he was no longer married.