Chapter 12 #2
As the dates for Francois Vernier’s trip to New York approached, Olivia wondered if he would call her, and if she would be brave enough to see him.
Having contacted him, she had cold feet.
Seeing him made no sense. He was married now, and she was still in a wheelchair.
They had broken up twelve years before, after the accident, and she had ended it for valid reasons, for his sake.
Nothing had changed. It would just be a form of torture to see what they could no longer have.
She made an appointment at the sperm bank to get her mind on other things that were important to her.
She still wanted a baby. She was going to try IUI, and if it didn’t work, adoption.
She didn’t want to try IVF on her own, the hormone shots sounded too debilitating and the process too complicated.
She preferred the more natural route of IUI or adoption.
The other options didn’t appeal to her. She would have preferred to have a baby with a man she loved, but that route was no longer open to her.
At thirty-seven, she wanted to move ahead now.
Her doctor had told her it was best not to wait if she was sure she wanted to have a child, and she was.
She knew it would give deeper meaning to her life, and thanks to her mother she could provide a wonderful life to a child. Olivia glowed just thinking about it.
She had just made the appointment at the sperm bank, and sat thinking about it, daydreaming, when the phone rang and she answered, and Francois’s voice filled the space around her like magic from the past. She was too startled to speak for a minute.
“Olivia?” he said, with the same deep voice full of excitement and energy.
“You’re here!” she said. She could feel her heart pounding, with the same thrill his voice always gave her, and she had to remind herself that he was married.
She hadn’t heard his voice since seven or eight years before, when he called her again to try to convince her to come back to him and she wouldn’t. “How are you?” she asked him.
“Wonderful! I love New York. And I’m happy to talk to you.
I arrived two days ago, and it’s been madness since I arrived.
I didn’t want to call you until I knew when I could see you.
We’re in rehearsals all day.” His life was huge now compared to hers.
“When can I see you?” He sounded eager and happy.
He had a buoyant personality along with his immense talent.
They had had a terrific time working together, and then they fell in love.
They had both been at the top of their game then, with the strength and power of youth.
“You’ve got the busy schedule, tell me what works for you,” she said.
“Is today at six too soon? I won’t finish until then, and we have an eight p.m. rehearsal tonight.
We’re working everyone hard. They have some exceptional dancers.
It’s a wonderful company.” He always liked dancing with the American Ballet Theatre, and Olivia didn’t ask if his wife was there too. She probably was.
“That’s great for me. I’ll have finished my classes by then too.” He wasn’t surprised that she was teaching. He knew she would find meaningful work to do.
“What do you prefer,” she asked, “the Plaza or the Russian Tea Room?” The Russian Tea Room had always been one of their favorite spots.
It was old-fashioned and romantic and traditional, while the bar at the Plaza was dynamic and modern and crowded, with fashionable, powerful people meeting and making deals.
“I know it sounds silly, but I love the Russian Tea Room, if you still like it. It reminds me of Russia in another century. And caviar and vodka doesn’t sound bad,” Francois said with a laugh.
He was an immense success now, and had probably made a great deal of money, undoubtedly highly paid for his productions and his rare performances.
He was a huge star, still dancing at thirty-nine for special appearances.
He wouldn’t for much longer and would only choreograph after that.
“The Russian Tea Room sounds perfect. I haven’t been there in…
since…a dozen years.” Not since before the accident, with him, and she had never had the heart to go back after they broke up.
The memories were too poignant. But going back with him sounded right, to dispel the old ghosts.
They were no longer the same people. They had moved on.
“See you tonight then, six o’clock at the Tea Room,” he said, and they hung up a minute later. Even on the phone, he sounded like a strong summer breeze that had blown through the room.
She dressed and hurried off to work then, and had to struggle all day to focus on her classes.
She finished at five, brushed her hair, and put on makeup in the bathroom of the gym where she held classes.
She had brought a big soft white cashmere sweater and a white coat she had bought recently, shopping with Isabelle at Bergdorf, and black velvet ballerina flats that looked better than running shoes.
She’d worn black slacks, and her hair hung down her back.
Excited to see Francois, she hailed a cab and slid into the back seat as the driver put her chair in the trunk.
She was a pro at managing for herself now, and she arrived at the Russian Tea Room at five to six, got settled in the chair, and wheeled herself into the restaurant.
Francois walked in seconds after she had settled down on the banquette in a booth.
She looked like any other diner sitting there, with the illusion of normalcy.
He spotted her and came straight across the restaurant to her.
He had seen the wheelchair being rolled away, which didn’t surprise him, and she looked no different than he remembered from a decade earlier when he’d last seen her.
She was beaming up at him and he slid into the booth next to her, in a black turtleneck and black jeans, and black boots, and whatever he wore, he looked like a dancer.
His sapphire-colored eyes were vibrant as he held her hands in his.
“Let me look at you,” he said, drinking her in.
“I still see your face when I do jumps, and I can hear you whisper to me ‘Higher!!’ ” He had dark hair and he looked young and strong.
“You look perfect, Olivia. More beautiful than ever.” He kept her hands in his as they talked, and she felt his energy coursing through her.
“Tell me everything about you. What do you do every day? Tell me about your classes. I want to know everything,” he said, and she smiled.
She had almost forgotten the sheer power of being with him, and how he infused that into his choreography and his dancers, who could achieve things they never had before under his tutelage. He had made her a better dancer too.
“I teach at a tiny dance company, but I love it. I design some of the costumes and scenery. I do charity work, and give free dance classes to underprivileged kids. Whatever I can to keep my hand in.” She admired a career like his so much. That had once been her destiny too, but it no longer was.
“You’re happy?” he asked her, as though he needed to know.
“Yes. I have a good life,” she reassured him. And he could see that she did, she looked healthy and well.
“And your family? You know I am in love with your mother.” Her face clouded as he said it, and she squeezed his hands. It was as though, with their hands joined, they became one person and gave each other strength.
“My mother died five months ago,” she said gently, and he looked shocked. Felicia was so youthful and alive when he last saw her, but it had been a while.
“Was she sick?” he asked with tears glistening in his eyes.
“No, she was shot by a deranged person while she was running a marathon. Nine people were killed and she was the first. It was hard for all of us. We’re starting to get used to it, and she left us a lot of surprises.
” She smiled at him, and he wiped a tear from his cheek.
She told him about the books and the farmhouse, and about Spencer York, and he smiled broadly.
“That is so perfect. She was brilliant! Of course she would be a best-selling writer, and in secret. I love it! You must be very proud of her.”
“We are.” Olivia loved that Francois embraced the positive side of their news instead of clinging to the tragedy.
That was how Olivia was trying to live it too.
It was a much better place to be. Francois had been an orphan, with no siblings, raised by an aunt who was a ballerina, so he loved her big family.
“And the farm is really beautiful. She lived there and we didn’t know it, and we just met the man she loved and he is wonderful.
He’s already like a father to us, and we’ve only met him once.
He adored my mother. He still does. And Charlotte and his son are in love. ” She smiled at him.
“And the others, your sisters? Is Charlotte still so fierce? I was always afraid of her.”
“She was fierce, until she met Andy. Now she is much mellower. She’s happy. Quinne just started a film production company. And she’s working on a big series based on one of my mother’s books. The man she lives with is an actor. Veronica just broke up with the man she was with for ten years.”
“Ah, the senator, yes? You told me about him one of the last times we spoke. He sounded elusive, and he was married, as I recall.”
“Yes, and he stayed married. And sadly, Isabelle and Ian are having some problems, they’re trying to work them out. Charlotte has two children, teenagers, and Isabelle has three little ones. So that’s us. What about you? Do you have children?” Francois looked startled by the question.