Danielle Steel - Changes

And they looked like a very distinguished pair as they walked into the Bistro. And the headwaiter gave them a lovely table. Peter ordered their drinks, and the waiter brought the chalkboard to the table, showing them the menu. But Mel wasn't even hungry. All she wanted to do was talk and be near Peter, and she found herself wanting to cling to him numerous times during the evening. And finally after the chocolate soufflé and the coffee, he ordered brandy for them both and looked at her sadly.

“I wish you weren't leaving, Mel.”

“So do I. It sounds crazy, but it's been a wonderful week, in spite of all the hard work.”

“You'll be back.” But God only knew when. She hadn't been to L.A. for over a year before she'd come out to interview him. It was just a fluke that she had come back again so soon.

“I wish we didn't live so far away from each other.” She said it mournfully, like a little girl with a new best friend, and he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.

“So do I.” And then, “I'll call you.” But then what?

It was impossible to find the answers, they had lives at opposite ends of the country, with children, homes, careers, friends. None of it could be stashed into a suitcase and moved. The phone calls and occasional visits would have to be enough for Mel and Peter. It was almost more than she could bear to recognize that fact, as they walked along Rodeo Drive after dinner.

“I wish our lives were different, Peter.”

“Do you?” He seemed surprised. “How?”

“At least we could live in the same city.”

“I agree with you there. But otherwise, I'd say we're pretty lucky, now that we know each other. It's added a lot to my life.”

“Mine too.” She smiled and their hands knit tighter, as they walked, each lost in thought for a little while.

He looked down at her, his hand still in hers. “It's going to be damn lonely around here without you.” He heard the echo of his own words and couldn't believe he had said them, but he had, and he was less frightened of what he felt now. The brandy helped, and a week in her company had been like a gift he had never expected. He had grown fonder of her each day, and the prospect of seeing her go really depressed him, much more than he had expected.

Eventually they made their way slowly back to the car, and he took her back to her hotel, until at last they sat outside, and looked at each other in the lamplight. “Will I see you tomorrow, Mel?”

“I don't have to be there until nine.”

“I'll be surgery at seven. What time does the President's plane leave?”

“At noon.”

“Then I guess this is it.” They both sat sadly, looking at each other and then without saying a word, he leaned toward her and gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. She closed her eyes and felt her lips melt into his, and she felt as though her insides were flying through her ears. She was almost dizzy when he stopped and she clung to him for a long moment and then looked at him and let her fingers touch his face, and then his lips, as he kissed the tips of her fingers. “I'm going to miss you, Mel.”

“Me too.”

“I'll call you.” But then what? Neither of them had any answers.

And without saying anything more he pulled her close to him again and held her for a long time, and at last he walked her back into the lobby and kissed her one last time before she disappeared into the elevator. And then slowly, he walked back to his car, and drove away, feeling something heavy in his heart that he hadn't felt since he'd lost Anne. And he had never wanted to feel that again. It frightened him that he had come to care about her so much. It would have been so much easier if he hadn't.

CHAPTER 15

When Mel arrived at the hospital the next day, she was allowed to go upstairs with a two-man crew and speak to the First Lady briefly, while preparations were being made for the President's removal. They would be leaving the hospital at ten o'clock, arriving at Los Angeles International Airport shortly before eleven, and they would take off as soon as possible after that. The President was doing well, but the First Lady was obviously extremely worried. His condition was stable, but it was difficult to predict what might happen in the air. Nonetheless, he wanted to go back to Washington, and his physicians had approved the plan.

Mel completed the interview and waited in the hallway, until forty-five minutes later when the President appeared on a stretcher. He waved his arm to the nurses and technicians lining the hall, and he smiled gamely and murmured greetings, but he still looked deathly pale, was heavily bandaged and there was an intravenous tube running into his arm. There were a fleet of Secret Servicemen surrounding the gurney, interspersed with doctors and nurses who would be returning to Washington with him. Mel fell into step at a respectful distance, and took another elevator to the lobby, where she joined up with the handful of other select reporters flying east on Air Force One. A separate limousine had been reserved for them, and she stepped into it with one glance back over her shoulder at Center City. She would have liked to have left a message at the desk for Peter before she left, but there was neither the opportunity nor the time, and a moment later they sped away toward the airport.

“How'd he look to you?” The reporter next to her asked briefly, checking some notes while lighting a cigarette with one hand. They were a relaxed group of pros, but nonetheless there was a faint hint of electricity and tension in the air. It had been an endless week for them all, and it would be good to get home and unwind. Most of them were returning to their home base as soon as they reached Washington, and the network had already booked a seat to New York for Mel at ten o'clock that night. She would be picked up at LaGuardia at eleven and taken home. In a way, she felt as though she were returning from another planet. But she was not at all sure she wanted to go home now, as her mind lingered on Peter's words, and his face, and his lips the night before.

“Hm?” She hadn't heard the reporter's question.

“I said how did he look?” The older reporter looked annoyed and Mel narrowed her eyes, thinking of the President as he lay on the gurney.

“Lousy. But he's alive.” And unless something drastic happened on the flight east, or he met with severe complications, it was unlikely that he would die now. He was a very lucky man, as they had all said again and again on the air. Other presidents had not been as lucky with assassination attempts as this one.

There was the usual banter between them on the way to the airport, dirty jokes, exchanged bits of gossip and old news. No one ever gave anything away, but this was not as tense a trip as the one out had been for all of them. Mel thought back to the week before, and to seeing Peter again for the first time. She wondered now when she would see him next. She couldn't imagine another opportunity presenting itself in the near future, and the realization of that depressed her.

The reporter sitting next to her glanced her way again. “You look like the last week got you down, Mel.”

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes averted. “I' m just tired, I guess.”

“Who isn't?”

And half an hour later they boarded the plane and sat in the passenger area in the rear. A sort of hospital-room arrangement had been made for the President toward the front, and none of them were allowed near it. Every hour or so, during the flight, the press secretary would join them and tell them how the President was doing, but it was an uneventful flight for them all and they reached Washington in four and a half hours and had the President settled at Walter Reed Hospital within an hour after that, and suddenly Mel realized that it was all over for her. The network's Washington correspondent had met them at the airport, and after accompanying the President to Walter Reed along with the others who had come from L.A. and glimpsing the First Lady once more, Mel stepped outside to the limousine waiting for her and went back to the airport. She had an hour left before her flight to New York, and she sat down, feeling as though she were in shock. The last week was beginning to seem like a dream and she wondered if she had imagined Peter and the time she had spent with him.