Danielle Steel - Changes

“Well, let me know how the film looks.” They stood awkwardly at the gate as the flight was called, and she found herself itching to be held in his arms.

“I will. Take care. And give my love to the kids.” There was a feeling of déjà vu to the scene, but it was more poignant than before. “And Marie and Pattie Lou.” Her voice was soft.

“Take care of yourself. Don't work too hard, Mel.”

“You too.” His eyes reached out to her, but there were no words for the confusion that he felt and he wasn't sure what to do. There was no privacy here, and he still wasn't sure what he felt for her.

“Thank you for everything.” And with that she shook him off guard by quickly kissing his cheek, and walking through the gate, giving him a last wave, and then she was gone, as he stood and stared, and his beeper went off at his side, and he had to hurry to a phone. He couldn't wait for the plane to take off. He called the hospital, and the resident had a question about Marie, she was running a slight temperature, and he wanted to know if Peter wanted any of the doses of her medications varied. He made the necessary changes and walked back to his car, thinking not of Marie, but of Mel, just as her plane took off, and the giant silver bird rose into the air, as Mel stared down at the endless parking lots below, wondering where he was, and if she would ever see him or his children again. And this time, there was no doubt in her mind. She was sad to leave, and sadder still to be going home. Tonight she didn't even try to convince herself that it wasn't true. She just sat staring out the window, thinking of him and the past four days, knowing that she liked him too much and it would get her nowhere. They led separate lives, in separate worlds, in cities three thousand miles apart, and that was just the way things were. And none of that would ever change.

CHAPTER 10

The flight to New York passed uneventfully, as Mel took out a notebook and jotted down notes about the past few days while they were still fresh in her mind. There were a number of things she wanted to touch on in her commentary on the piece. Then at last, feeling drained, she closed the book and lay her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The stewardess had offered her cocktails, wine, or champagne several times, but she had declined. She wanted to be left alone with her own thoughts, and after a while she drifted off to sleep for the last few hours of the flight. The trip from west to east always went too quickly to get much rest, with tail winds pushing the plane along, they made it to New York easily in just under five hours. She woke again with the sound of the landing announcement in her ears, and a stewardess touching her arm, asking her to fasten her seat belt before they would land.

“Thank you.” She looked up at the stewardess sleepily and stifled a yawn, as she fastened her seat belt and then opened her bag to take out a comb. She felt as though she had been wearing the same clothes for days, and wondered again if she would find her suitcase waiting for her in New York. It seemed aeons since she had almost gotten on the plane in L.A. some thirty hours before, and been stopped by Peter's call. And then her mind drifted back to him again. His face seemed to come alive before her again as she closed her eyes, and then forced herself to open them again as she felt the plane land on the runway in New York. She was home. And she had a mountain of work to do for the news and on the film she had done of him and Pattie Lou, and she had lots to do with the girls as well. She had her own life to lead, and yet there was the oddest feeling of regret to be back. She wished she could have stayed longer in L.A., but there was no need, and she could never have explained it to the network in New York.

She found her bag waiting for her in the special-services area of baggage claim, picked it up, walked outside and hailed a cab, and headed for New York City at full speed. There was no traffic at all at six thirty in the morning, and the sun shot darts of gold across the sky, which was reflected on the windows of the skyscrapers that lined the view. As they came across the bridge and headed south on the East River Drive, she felt something stir in her again. New York always did that to her. It was a splendid town. And suddenly it wasn't so bad to be home again. This was where she belonged. It was her town. And as she smiled to herself, she noticed the driver watching her in his rearview mirror with a curious look. As she often did to strangers, she looked familiar to him, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he had had her in the cab before, he thought to himself, or she was the wife of some important man, a politician or a movie star and he'd seen her in the news. He knew he'd seen that face somewhere before, but he wasn't quite sure where.

“Been away long?” He continued to search his mind as he looked at her.

“Just a few days, on the West Coast.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning right at Seventy-ninth and heading west. “I been out there once. But there ain't no place like New York.”

She smiled. New Yorkers were a breed unto themselves, loyal to the end, despite dog poop, debris, crime in the streets, pollution, overpopulation, and the city's myriad failings and sins. Nonetheless, it had a quality one found nowhere else, a certain electricity that touched one to the very core. And she could feel it even now, as she watched the city come alive, as they sped through its streets.

“It's a great town.” He voiced his passion for his hometown again, and Mel nodded her head.

“It sure is.” And suddenly it really was good to be back, and a happy feeling stirred her soul, as they pulled up in front of her house. And she was excited about seeing the girls again. She paid the cab, carried her bag inside, set it down in the front hall, and bounded upstairs to see her girls. They were both asleep, and she walked quietly into Jessica's room and sat down on the bed, and looked at her. Her flame-colored hair was spread out on the pillow like a dark red sheet, and she stirred as she heard her mother's voice and opened one eye. “Hi, lazybones.” She bent down and kissed her cheek, and Jessie smiled.

“Hi, Mom. You're home.” She sat up and stretched and then hugged her mother with a sleepy smile. “How was the trip?”

“Okay. It feels good to be back.” And this time she meant what she said. It did feel good. She had left California behind, along with Peter Hallam, and Marie Dupret, and Center City Hospital, and all that she had done since she left New York. “We did a terrific film.”

“Did you watch them operate?” Jessie was instantly intrigued. She would have given anything to have seen that, although her twin would have blanched at the thought.

“I did. I stayed to watch them do a transplant last night … no, the night before …” The time was all confused now in her head and she smiled. “Whenever it was, it was a success. It was extraordinary, Jess.”

“Can I see the film?”

“Of course. You can come down to the station before we air the piece.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She climbed slowly out of bed, her long legs seeming longer beneath a short pink nightshirt, and Melanie left the room to see the other twin. In her room, Valerie was buried in her bed, fast asleep, and it took several gentle shoves and taps to rouse her at all. Melanie finally had to pull the blanket away from her and tug at the sheets, until at last Val woke up with a sleepy growl.

“Cut it out, Jess …” And then she opened her eyes and saw Melanie instead. She looked surprised and confused, forgetting that her mother was due back. “How come you're home?”