25. In a Faraway Land of Bedside Confessions
IN A FARAWAY LAND OF BEDSIDE CONFESSIONS
C hiara Conti blinked at the lights speeding by, her eyes dry, lids scraping the irises like sandpaper. How different this ride was except for Vi’s hand holding hers, the one tether to this world, to this present, stayed steady and warm.
“How long? How long do you think?”
She wondered why she was asking this question when time had never meant anything to her. She herself hated being asked about this. Chiara knew she could never master it. Timeframes constricted her unlike anything else. It would take as long as it would take.
One street after another, one red light, one green light, they would eventually get there. Perhaps even quicker than she’d imagined. And that imagination of hers, tired and unmedicated, stretched and compressed time into weird, unknowable shapes.
She felt like a child.
Are we there yet? How about now?
Vi didn’t seem to hear her, and the steady beat of her pulse in her wrist under Chiara’s fingertips did what she needed it to do most—measure that unfathomable time for her.
Silence stretched again. Vi gently squeezed her fingers, and Chiara burrowed into her neck.
“Arabella called. I don’t know why it was her.”
She heard her own voice like a spectator in a theater observing from the wings. She didn’t bother wondering why she’d said it. She didn’t even care to hear the answer. Just something to say. How silly, how surreptitiously useless and yet such a crutch.
“I caught the phone when you dropped it, baby, and spoke to her.” Vi’s voice was matter of fact, and she again squeezed the hand she was holding reassuringly, as if Chiara completely missing everything that was going on around her was par for the course.
Maybe it was. “As for why, well, they’ve been together for weeks now, Chiara. ”
She raised her head off Vi’s collarbone so fast, her cheekbone connected sharply with the chiseled jaw.
Pain radiated across Chiara’s face, and Vi lifted her hand to cradle her own chin.
Chiara did not even yelp but wanted to reach out to touch the bruise that would surely form on the beloved features. Still, she had to know.
“What do you mean?” Her voice rose a few octaves, the higher pitch somehow sounding even more awful than she felt.
“They’ve been sneaking around pretty much since the day Arabella hired me to do the shoot. I caught them in the Poise offices when I stopped by to sign my contract.”
Vi’s matter-of-fact tone still did nothing to soothe Chiara’s frayed nerves.
“But why didn’t she tell me?”
“Renate.” The name did not sound like a question, but a statement of fact.
“I always thought she didn’t share easily.
I’m not entirely certain that it has anything to do with you.
And Arabella is so smitten, it’s rather endearing.
I think it’s serious between them, so it’s possible Renate was taking her time with it? ”
“ Serious between them… ” Among the anxiety of what was awaiting them at the hospital, Chiara felt a sudden touch of elation.
Her lips stretched, a strange sensation, like her body was moving without her express command.
But she was smiling, and Vi’s own smile answered her tentatively.
Chiara leaned closer and kissed it, that sweet, sweet corner of the full mouth lifting with shyness and hope.
And then she kissed the reddening spot on the sharp pale jaw.
“And Arabella is smitten? How do you know?”
“She really is. It’s very sweet. Such a tough old dame—”
“Hey, hey easy on the mature people there, baby!”
Vi’s smile grew wider, a flash of white teeth gleaming at Chiara with mischief, as the hold on her hand changed, turning more intimate, fingers linking.
“She was the second person to save me. Arabella took one look at Benedict’s dilemma about what to do with me, and proclaimed me her personal project. I always suspected she knew exactly who my parents were and what they did, their reputation preceding them, as always.”
“Vi—”
“Hey, it’s okay. Renate did hire a private investigator to keep Lilien Haus safe from my name alone.
And all things considered, Zizou did not step one foot wrong.
After all, what happened was something nobody could have predicted.
Nobody but me, if only I was smarter.” She gulped and soldiered on.
“When this is over, you and I have things to talk about. I lied to you that morning in Paris. I don’t deserve anything, but you do deserve to know—”
“Shhh…” Chiara murmured and then decided that it was by far not enough of a gesture to stop this barrage of words that seemed absolutely superfluous right now.
And not only because the hospital was coming into view, but also in light of all the revelations tonight.
Trust either worked or it didn’t, and Chiara’s simply did. And that was enough.
So, for the second time within the last few minutes, she pressed her lips onto Vi’s. She chose to ignore that the sensuous mouth tasted of pain this time.
They both ignored that metallic taste, and the car stopped right before Chiara could deepen the kiss. So she closed her eyes, forehead to forehead with Vi, and took a deep breath, feeling Vi do the same. Just one more second.
Once again, the driver opened the door for them and then they were running.
* * *
Arabella’s connections at Presbyterian proved to be legendary.
They didn’t even need to introduce themselves.
One word, and a tall, stooping man in his sixties with a dignified, if tired, expression gestured for them to accompany him.
Someone addressed him as they passed the nurses’ station and he simply waved them away, Chiara barely catching the nurse’s awed, “…someone important since the Administrator is ferrying people around.”
“Arabella is a huge donor.” Vi didn’t bother to keep her voice as quiet as the nurse’s, since the man stopped in front of the bank of elevators and dipped his head.
“We are very grateful for Ms. Archibald Avant’s generosity. This way, please. I’m afraid I will not be able to go into the ICU with you, as we are limiting the number of people permitted… Nosocomial infections… You understand.”
Chiara nodded numbly. Her breath became shallow and threaded at the mention of the ICU.
The Administrator escorted them up to the fifth floor.
Within seconds, a nurse in a full ICU garb handed them gowns before taking them through a blindingly bright hallway.
Soon, they stood in front of a glass wall, and behind it, hooked up to monitors and endless IVs, lay Renate.
Arabella sat by the bed, her head bent and face hidden in shadows. Chiara hiccuped and suddenly her cheeks were wet, tears falling freely, so fast she wasn’t able to catch them.
They must have made a sound, because behind the glass, Arabella lifted her head, and the exhausted eyes closed with, dare Chiara say relief ? And why relief? Surely not because Renate was dying and Arabella was afraid that Chiara would not make it in time?
Ti prego, Dio…
She so rarely asked anything of the almighty anymore.
A hand that used to be bejeweled, extended and beckoned them in. For some reason, the bony fingers, unadorned with the customary gold and gems, made Chiara’s throat tighten.
Please, please…
But as the door opened to allow them passage, Renate’s eyes opened, and Chiara felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. The pale blue gaze was clear, sharp as always, and when her former sister-in-law spoke, the voice was quiet, yet firm.
“Told her not to call you before dawn. She thinks I’ll die. No chance. I’ve waited for forty years to pay her back. I’m not kicking the bucket before I have my fill.”
Arabella sniffed, trying to hide the obvious sob behind an arrogant sneer, but she couldn’t pull it off.
The tears that had been filling those eyes earlier spilled, and soon everyone in the room was crying.
As she tried to dry her eyes, Chiara thought there had been too many tears in the past five weeks. More than in the past five years.
“Bella, can you…” Renate’s limp fingers gestured to Vi and to the door, and Arabella was in motion instantly.
“Nothing personal, Courtenay. And thank you for being here with Chiara. Or should I say, being with her, period?” Renate tried to sit up and Chiara rushed to her side to help her, only to be waved away as her former sister-in-law settled back on the pillow and rasped, still addressing Vi.
“I’m sorry, you know, for before. And for five years ago.
We will talk. Later? Please go keep Frankie company, before Aoife maims her for annoying the hell out of the staff here. ”
Vi’s wet eyes twinkled.
“And you assume she won’t irritate me ? Of all people?”
Renate’s smile was tired. “I have an inkling you can take her. Out of all people. And all things considered, perhaps you should? Don’t you think?”
Vi lowered her head, and Chiara felt like they were speaking in a language she didn’t understand.
But Vi was already giving her hand another squeeze before allowing Arabella to accompany her back to the other side of the glass and down the long corridor, where Chiara could clearly see a pacing figure.
How had she missed Frankie on their way in?
“Chiara…” Renate’s voice drew her out of her thoughts, as always, gentle yet firm. Chiara swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“I’m here.”
“I can see just fine, Liebling . I’m not dying, no matter what those hacks told Arabella.
They figure if they sell this as them saving me, she will pour even more money down the black hole of this place.
Plus, she lost one of her four husbands in this very ICU.
I’m not doing this to her, even if she deserves that and more… ”
Renate cackled, then closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Chiara reached for her fingers and held them carefully.
“No, no, stop with the maudlin nonsense. I don’t mean any of that.
I realized something in these few weeks with Arabella.
” Chiara raised her eyes in surprise and Renate’s were serious, looking at her with so much intensity she wanted to flinch.
“Forgiveness, Chiara. You either give it, or you don’t.
Love, lust, trust… They are all good and fine.
But forgiveness? If you don’t give that?
Wholeheartedly? All of it? It will sit inside your chest like a stone.
And one day, you’ll reach for it and throw it and break everything you have been building. ”
Renate took a shaky breath, and Chiara knew only her formidable will was keeping her talking. And so she didn’t interrupt.
“Vi… You deserve the truth. So be honest with yourself. With her too. Either forgive. Or forget.”
“I already did—”
“Did you?”
“I love her, Renate. I feel the same way I always have, even in Paris.”
“So you’re the prince…” Renate smiled, and Chiara raised an uncomprehending eyebrow. “Prince to her Cinderella.” The chuckle, exhausted and pained, still sounded self-satisfied. “How the mighty have fallen. A Converse-wearing Cinderella and a Blahnik-adorned Prince. Only you, Chiara…”
Chiara scoffed, but Renate’s face was serious again.
“You love her. Super.” The German accent deepened on the last word.
“Now forgive her. Or let her go. And forgive yourself. Both of you atoning for your imaginary sins.” A disdainful tsk followed and Chiara thought this was a good moment to interrupt, but Renate kept going, barreling over her in a gesture so familiar, Chiara had to smile.
“You think you were wrong in Paris. To allow her to love you. I know. You’ve been making up for it ever since. And she will never stop atoning for everything that happened after. Peas in a pod, the two of you. You love her and she loves you. Amazing. Now, for fuck’s sake, forgive each other.”
Another deep breath, and now the somber eyes were wet as well. “And forgive me, too. With any luck, you already have. Because you have this absolutely dumbass capacity to just up and move on from everything that happens to you, then internalize them ‘til they choke you—’”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me from an ICU bed? Was there a light at the end of the tunnel? Did you get to talk to some supernatural being?”
She tried for levity and saw the bluish lips twitch.
“No deity. No light. Must not be the end yet. But I am sorry. And I ask you to forgive me. Business. That was my line. The one I crossed when I sacrificed your happiness. It was even more stupid than Aoife’s.
At least hers was love.” Renate stopped and motioned for a glass on her bedside that held water.
Her hand was remarkably steady when Chiara helped her drink.
“Mine was family and business. I knew she was cheating, yet I said nothing. In the end, I lost neither, because, first and foremost, you are family. And you built something that’s bigger than Lilien Haus. If not in size, then certainly with how special it is. Iconic. Forgive me.”
Chiara lifted the limp hand she’d been holding and kissed the knuckles.
“Always. Anything. Everything. I love you.”
Renate tugged on her hand. “Say it.” When she let go, Renate splayed her fingers on Chiara’s cheek. The dry skin was now trembling slightly, whether with exhaustion or emotion, Chiara didn’t know.
“I forgive you.”
Renate sighed. “Good, now I can—”
Chiara thought the room tilted.
“No!”
“Sheesh. Sleep! Now I can get some sleep. Get Bella back in here. She can sit in that uncomfortable chair and sigh over me for a few more hours before I send her home to rest. She’s not spry enough to pull the entire day by my bedside anymore, especially after I wore her out the night before in another bedside—”
“TMI! And you did not!” Chiara waved her hands. “No, no, wait. I don’t want to know.” She laid her head on the chemical-smelling sheets, next to Renate.
“You scared me. So much. Don’t die. I need you.”
She knew she sounded childish. She didn’t care. Renate obviously didn’t either, as the trembling fingers stroked her hair, and Chiara closed her eyes.
“I don't intend to. And yes, I realize plans usually don’t factor into all of this. But I don’t imagine I will. If that makes sense? I’m happy for you, though. Even if Frankie is back.”
“Are you going to ask me to be kind to her, too? To forgive her as well?”
“Screw her.” Chiara’s head spun at the uncharacteristic profanity. “No, I’m not even sure she’s truly sorry. Maybe for cheating. But I believe you forgave that a long time ago.”
Renate sighed before making one last effort to speak.
“Chiara, you need to stop thinking it was your fault…”
The fingers moved slowly in her tresses, and Chiara waited with bated breath for what came next. But Renate was silent, and after another minute, the fingers stilled, the breathing evening out, and when Chiara lifted her head, Renate was asleep, her face peaceful.