On Monday morning, Alaistair and Gabrielle got up at seven o’clock. She had set her alarm, and had the hotel operator call them to be sure. She woke up before the alarm, and took a shower before Alaistair stirred. She touched him gently and he smiled at her the moment he saw her face.
“I’m awake,” he said sleepily.
“So, the snoring was an act?” she teased him. “Incredibly convincing. You’ve got it down to a fine art.” He got up then, and she ordered a light breakfast for them, although she was too nervous to eat, and he wasn’t supposed to eat more than a light meal before the treatment.
They had agreed the night before that he would go on his own, and call her when he was ready to be picked up that afternoon. They were going to keep him for several hours to make sure that there was no untoward reaction to the drugs. There hadn’t been last time but that could change. The professor wanted to observe him himself, and if necessary, Alaistair could spend the night. He was in essence a research subject, but far from the first patient to have this protocol for the same illness. The disease itself was rare, but the professor had treated a number of cases from all over Europe. It was his passion.
Alaistair left the room at eight-thirty looking serious and distracted, gave Gabrielle a hug, and assured her that everything would be fine. He hoped so himself, and was somewhat anxious, but didn’t want to frighten her. She appeared calm when he left and told him to have a good day in school and behave himself with the other kids, and he laughed. After he left, she sat in a chair in the living room of the suite, staring into space and thinking about him.
She had paperwork with her to do for her clients, but it was hard to concentrate. She got very little done, and she started looking at her watch at four o’clock, hoping to hear from him soon. By five o’clock she was worried, but she didn’t want to call him, in case he was still in treatment, or not feeling well. She didn’t know what to expect. She was trying not to panic, when she heard the door open ten minutes later, and Alaistair walked in. He looked tired, as though he had a long, exhausting day, but he smiled as soon as he saw her.
“Why didn’t you call me? I was going to pick you up.”
“The professor drove me home. We seem to have hit it off. He has a reputation for being taciturn and unfriendly, but I think he likes the fact that I’m a doctor. He dropped me off. I’m the only clinical patient he has right now, so I get special treatment.” He sat down in a chair across from her, and he seemed worn out, which wasn’t surprising. The drugs he was given to kill the cancer were very powerful, but he seemed to be weathering it well. The doctor had told him he was lucky. “How was your day?” he asked her, wanting to make the day seem more normal, and to hear about whatever she did.
“I thought about you, and I did some paperwork. How did it go?”
“Astonishingly well. The professor is very pleased, but this is only the second treatment of the big guns, with one middle-of-the-month cocktail in London,” which was milder but also necessary. “We won’t know anything for a while. He thinks you’re an effective part of why I’m doing well. He says the spirit is very important. If you can cure the spirit, often you can heal the disease, or chase it off for a while. Our goal for now is remission, not a cure. That can come later, with new developments. I’d settle for remission. Step by step,” he said with a sigh.
“So would I,” she said, and came over to kiss him. “Do you want something to drink?” She was thinking of tea or fruit juice or even water.
“Something tall and cold would be great. I’m dying of thirst. I couldn’t eat or drink all day. But I’m not hungry.”
“I had a great lemonade this afternoon,” she suggested, and he nodded gratefully.
“Perfect.” She ordered it, and it arrived ten minutes later with a plate of thin butter cookies, which he ate and drained the glass. “Do you mind if I sleep for a bit? I’ll be better tomorrow.” He went to bed and she tucked him in and saw the bandage on his arm from the IV and didn’t comment. He was asleep within minutes, and didn’t wake until midnight. She checked on him regularly, and had time to think again of what she had stepped into. She knew the risks she had taken, and the responsibility she had assumed, to stand by him, and accept him, whatever the outcome in the end. She had no regrets, and was glad she had come.
He was hungry when he woke up at midnight. She ordered him boiled eggs and toast, which was all he wanted, and he went back to sleep as soon as he ate it, and woke up at eight o’clock the next morning. He had slept for fourteen hours and obviously needed it. He seemed surprisingly normal in the morning, he ate a big breakfast and wanted to go out with her. They went for a walk along the river, and stood under a tree to avoid the rain.
“Thank you for doing this with me,” he said gratefully. “It’s a lot to ask of anyone.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. I enlisted,” she reminded him.
“Thank you.” It was their last day together, they were both leaving in the morning, but she was going to London in two weeks for the Frieze art fair, and to be with him. He was going to have his mid-month treatment then. He said it was less draining than the one in Paris, which he would have again in a month. She had already started reorganizing her schedule, without telling him, so she could come back to Paris with him in a month for the next treatment there. And they were going to go to his dower house in Sussex when she came to London, after his treatment and the art fair. She had invited him to go to several of the events at the fair with her, and he was looking forward to it. Just as she was to seeing his house in Sussex.
He was still a little tired from the day before, and they took a cab back to the hotel, where he took a nap. But that evening he insisted on taking her out for a nice dinner. They went to a well-known restaurant, and he ate well. And when they got back to the hotel, he looked like himself again. He had recovered rapidly from the treatment. It seemed less rugged than she had feared, but he was a strong man and not given to complaining. She was impressed by how brave he was, and said so.
“I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to know about these things. I urge others to do them, so I can’t very well whinge myself.”
“Yes, you can. You can do whatever you want.”
“Besides, I need to be in form for my patients. I’m damn lucky, I’ve found a good locum tenens,” which she knew now was a relief person for a doctor, “who can give me the time I need to come to Paris for the treatments, and he gives me a day for my mid-month cocktail, and here and there when I need it. He’s a good man, and a cancer survivor himself. So, he’s quite sympathetic. He’s got a smashing Jamaican wife and four very cute kids. He’s one of the lucky ones. He’s a ten-year survivor now. His kids are all very young. He froze his sperm before the surgery, sorry for the details. She went through it all with him. You’d like her. The marriage caused quite a stir in his family. His father is in the House of Lords, very old name, an earl. He’s a viscount, although he doesn’t use it. They’re an amazing couple, and his family has finally come around, but it was rough for them for quite a while, between his parents and the cancer. I’m not sure which was worse. At least we don’t have that to deal with.” He smiled at her. “Are you going to tell your daughters about us?” he asked her, and took her by surprise. She’d thought of it, but it was much too soon. They’d been through enough with their father and his Russian bride.
“Eventually. Not yet.”
“I’d like to meet them when you think the time is right.”
“They’ll like you, but I don’t want them to worry that I’m going to run off and leave them. I don’t see them much, but they like knowing that I’m in one place waiting for them. It doesn’t occur to kids, even at their age, that parents need their own lives.”
He smiled at what she said. “I can see that. I was always very annoyed when my parents had their own plans that interfered with mine, or went on holiday without me. It seemed incredibly selfish of them.” He laughed at the memory. “I don’t think you really appreciate your parents until they’re gone.” She nodded, agreeing with him.
“I didn’t, until I had kids of my own. And then it’s too late most of the time. They’re off to their own lives somewhere else.”
They spent an easy, relaxed evening, and went back to the hotel. Gabrielle had already packed, and she helped him pack when they got to the hotel. They had a last loving night together.
In the morning, he argued with her about who would pay for the room, since he had given up his, and wanted to pay the bill for hers, and had offered to when he invited her to Paris. But it was a very expensive suite and she insisted. She paid for it in the end, and he said that the next trip, if she came to Paris for the next treatment, was on him. She was planning to stay with him in London. He had paid for everything else on the trip, and was a generous man.
He left before she did, to catch the Eurostar, since he was seeing patients that day. He said he felt up to it, although she thought he still seemed tired. The professor had called the evening before to see how he was, and was satisfied with what Alaistair reported to him.
They had a hard time leaving each other, and saying goodbye. She wasn’t used to parting from him yet, and felt an ache of loss as soon as he had left. He called her when he got to the train and checked in, and a few minutes later, she left to catch her flight to New York. It had been a wonderful five days. They had stretched it to have the time together, and his relief doctor in London was willing and needed the money. He had six mouths to feed. He had a title but very little money, so the arrangement suited them both. She felt as though she had already lived half a lifetime with him, what they were going through was so intense, with his illness and the treatment and the uncertainty of the results. She felt like she was falling through space with him, and couldn’t see the ground beneath them yet or where they would land. It was an odd feeling, but everything else about it was right.
She slept on the flight and arrived in New York at two p.m. local time. After going through customs, she was home at four p.m. Veronica called her from L.A. almost as soon as she walked in.
“How was Paris?” she asked, and Gabrielle thought of Alaistair as soon as she said it. She had called him from the cab to tell him she’d arrived safely, and he had just gotten home after a long day of patients, and told her he missed her.
She felt dreamy when she answered her daughter’s question. “It was wonderful.” Veronica didn’t suspect anything. She had no reason to. “And we had a bit of excitement. There was a bomb scare and we spent four hours on the street in the middle of the night.”
“How scary! Was it okay?”
“Yes. They found it in a basement next to the hotel and disarmed it in time.”
“That’s so dangerous, Mom. Maybe you shouldn’t go to Paris anymore.”
“It can happen anywhere these days. But the police were amazing. They were all over the place.”
“Well, be careful. I’m glad you’re back in New York.”
Gabrielle tried to reach Georgie that night too, but didn’t get her. She was always busy, out, with friends, and never picked up her phone. She only communicated by text, and Gabrielle preferred hearing her voice.
And at nine o’clock that night, trying not to go to bed too early, so she could get on New York time, she answered the phone and it was Judythe. She sounded jubilant and excited.
“We wanted you to be the first to know. We’re getting married in December. We hope you can come. We’re going to invite Alaistair too. We were going to wait until spring, but we kind of got a jump start on things,” she said, sounding mildly embarrassed. “I just found out I’m pregnant. It must have happened in Paris that night. The baby is due in June, and I want to get married before it shows.” She said it all in a rush, and Gabrielle smiled. They had almost lost everything, and now they had an abundance of riches. They had each other, a baby, and were getting married. They had been richly rewarded for everything they’d been through to finally be together. They couldn’t ask for more. They had wanted to start a family, and Gabrielle remembered that Judythe was thirty-nine.
“That’s wonderful! Alaistair will be thrilled when he hears. I just saw him in Paris. I got home a few hours ago. This is great news. And I will definitely be there.”
“I haven’t organized it yet, but I’ll let you know the date as soon as I book a room. We only want a few people there. We both had big weddings before. Once is enough,” she said, laughing, and Gabrielle was happy at their news. “We wouldn’t be getting married if Alaistair hadn’t saved him.” But Judythe would have had his baby to console her at least, if her guess about when it was conceived was correct. But now she had them both, Richard and their child.
“I’ll tell Alaistair when I talk to him,” she promised, and was still smiling when they hung up. It was one of those sweet moments that made everyone feel good. A total win-win, which touched and blessed them all. She was happy Judythe had called. And she had reported that Richard was doing great, and his doctor in New York said he was fine. The episode in Paris had saved his life, by putting a spotlight on a problem they hadn’t even known existed and would have killed him if it hadn’t been repaired and the defective valve replaced.
The two weeks Gabrielle spent in New York flew by, seeing clients, bidding in an important Sotheby’s auction, making plans with dealers she wanted to see in London while she was there. In the blink of an eye, she felt like she was packing again.
She planned it to arrive the night before Alaistair’s mid-month treatment in London, and this time she drove him and picked him up, very cautiously driving on what was the “wrong” side of the road for her. Alaistair let her drive his car. She met Geoffrey Mount Westerley, Alaistair’s locum tenens, and found him delightful. They stopped in at Alaistair’s office in Harley Street on their way back from the treatment, and then went back to his place so he could sleep.
He had a loft apartment with a view of the Thames. They had to climb a ladder to get to his bedroom, but it was a perfect bachelor pad, and suited him. He slept late the day after the treatment, and after he woke up, they decided to drive to Sussex for the weekend. She was excited about going there with him, and the art fair didn’t start until Monday, so they had the weekend together, with no other plans. They’d originally planned to go to Sussex after the art fair, but he couldn’t wait to show it to her. And he felt well enough to go and rest there.
It was a beautiful fall morning when they arrived in Sussex, and he parked his hunter green vintage MG outside the dower house. It was a beautiful home with graceful proportions, which would have been adequate on its own, with a small guesthouse beside it. And she could see the grandeur of the manor house in the distance through the trees, with a lake and swans on it between the main house and the dower house. It was a magnificent property, and was a symbol of a bygone era of great elegance and wealth. She could see why he hadn’t kept the manor for himself though, when he’d inherited it as a young man. The manor house was huge, and would have required an army of servants to run it, which was what his family had when his grandfather bought it from a family that had lost their money.
The grounds were beautifully maintained, and she followed him into the dower house, which was cozy and warm, with wood-paneled rooms, and the beautiful antiques he had saved from his parents’ home. It was in sharp contrast to his modern loft in the city. His house in the country looked like a miniature ancestral home, which was what it had been when his great-grandmother lived there. Alaistair had added a number of masculine touches, including a den filled with comfortable oversized leather chairs in front of a large fireplace with a black marble mantel. There were several ancestral portraits, including two handsome ones of his parents, one hanging in the living room and the other in the front hall. He had antique hunting prints in the den. The whole house looked very British and very distinguished. Gabrielle felt instantly at home there, and told him how beautiful it was.
“I’m so glad you like it.” He looked pleased, as he led her up to his bedroom to set down their bags. There was a big antique four-poster bed made of carved mahogany. “I couldn’t bring myself to give all this up. I grew up with it, and the new owners didn’t want it. They redid the whole house and it’s very modern. This is all very old-fashioned, but it’s familiar and I love it.” And Gabrielle did too. He had dark Persian carpets that wouldn’t show if you brought mud in from outdoors, oversized leather furniture, and dark green velvet upholstery and drapes. It had a masculine touch, but she felt at home there too. “This is where I spend all my weekends. My ex-wife hated it, but the place means a lot to me. I always feel at peace here. It’s like crawling back into the womb. It reminds me of my parents and my childhood, and our family history.” Gabrielle could see why he loved it. It was a beautiful home.
They had bought groceries before they left London, and made lunch in the big old-fashioned kitchen. And afterward, they went for a long walk around the property and came back to admire the swans on the lake. It was a peaceful place, and she relaxed just being there. All the strains of the day were forgotten. Alaistair put an arm around her as they sat on a bench and watched the graceful, elegant birds glide by, with a few ducks swimming along the edge.
“I haven’t brought anyone here in a long time,” he said quietly. “I like being here alone. Or I always did. Now I like being here with you.” Being there made his illness seem unreal, and all their daily concerns. It made their questions about the future seem unimportant. The property and the houses on it had been there for so long that it gave one a sense of permanence and the reassurance that it would always be there. It was a place to calm one’s fears, and they walked back to the dower house together hand in hand. They didn’t say anything to each other, they didn’t need to. Then they went up to his bedroom and made love. There was an overwhelming sense of peace about the place, and Gabrielle lay in Alaistair’s arms for a long time, wishing him long life and health, and hoping that she would be there to share it with him. She could almost feel his ancestors who had lived there before, blessing them, and wishing them well.
They cooked dinner together that night. And the most modern thing in the house was a large television in the den, where he watched sports and movies. They picked a film together, and watched it. And then they went back to bed. It was a blissfully simple life.
They went riding together the next day, over the hills. The new owners allowed him to ride some of the horses in their stables. It gave Gabrielle a feeling of the size and grandeur of the property as they saw it on horseback, and went past the farms, which had once been tenants of his grandfather, in the old days. Now they were rented out, and a few had been sold. They were used as country homes by Londoners more than farms. The whole scene was so picturesque, Gabrielle wanted to stay there forever. It was a magnificent property, and selling it when he had had allowed it to be preserved by people who could afford to run it well.
“They’re not here often. They live in South Africa,” he explained to her. “They intend to retire here one day, or so they say. I’m not sure they ever will, they have a number of beautiful homes, but at least they keep it up, and they love it. I’m happy I still own a tiny piece of the property and can come here.”
“I’m so glad I’ve seen it.” It was an important part of him, and a glimpse into who he was, and where he had grown up. The original owners had been one of the great families of England, who had eventually lost their property and money over the generations, but at least it was still intact, and no one had bought it to turn it into a hotel, or cut it up in small lots for a development. So many old estates had been destroyed or simply disappeared.
They went to bed early again that night, and got up early the next morning. Alaistair did some gardening after breakfast, which he enjoyed, and Gabrielle read a book. They had to tear themselves away when they left on Sunday night to return to London.
“I don’t think I could leave if I lived here.” She smiled at him.
“I have a hard time leaving it myself.” And he was obviously pleased that she loved it so much and understood it.
They were both sad when they got back to his flat in London, and she had a busy day ahead the next day at the art fair. He was going to join her there on Tuesday night, after he finished seeing his patients.
“I’m so glad I saw the dower house,” she said, as they climbed into bed that night. “When can we go back?”
“Whenever you’re here.” He smiled happily. “I’m always happy to spend time there.” He remembered as he said it the battle it had been to get his wife to go there, until finally she refused. She missed the excitement and pace of London, and her friends. She didn’t understand British country life, it wasn’t bred into her as it was in him.
They lay in his comfortable bed that night, side by side, snuggling under the comforter, and she fell asleep, wishing she could stay in London longer, and had more free time while she was there. But she had a business to run, clients to satisfy, and she had less than a week in London to do everything on her agenda. Being with Alaistair had a fairy-tale quality to it, but like it or not, now she had to go to work. And he did too. Real life was nipping at their heels, with all its delights and terrors.