Chapter 25
Since I’d spent the whole of the previous day at the spa with Kimi, Sunday was my catch up on chores and call Grandmère day.
After changing my sheets, doing laundry, grocery shopping, and a short run, I called Grandmère.
This had been our routine since I left France.
Sundays was check-in, catch-up, and chat time.
Her phone rang and rang, but she did not pick up. This was out of the ordinary, but I wasn’t worried. It could be that she and Bernard had seized an opportunity to have an adventure, and she’d tell me all about it when I talked to her. I’d try her later.
I pulled out my personalized stationery and wrote an effusive thank you note to Steve Ballanger, making sure to sing the praises of Shanice for her attentive service. It really had been a luxuriously indulgent day, and I wanted him to know I appreciated it.
I decided to make myself a simple omelette for dinner and then sat down with a glass of wine to read a mildly interesting thriller.
By the time I stood up to stretch and rinse out my glass, it was far too late to try calling Grandmère again.
I’d reach her tomorrow, I told myself. Then I went to bed.
Monday morning turned out to be extremely…Monday. A deal I putting together in Spain looked to be falling apart and I had to put out fires, make phone calls, reassure, hold hands, and long for a paper bag to breath into.
Diane brought me a salad to eat at my desk for lunch and stayed long enough to get the highlight reel from the spa day.
She looked a bit put out that she hadn’t been invited, until I pulled out the Luxe bag of goodies I’d received and handed it to her.
Then she squealed with delight and hugged me and went out to her desk to sort through the loot.
On my way home I picked up a pulled pork roll from the local deli for dinner and ate with my files spread out in front of me on the kitchen table, making notes in between bites.
As I cleaned up my dishes, I realized I hadn’t heard from Grandmère all day, and it was, again, too late to call her.
I wrote myself a reminder to call her on a bright pink post-it note and put it on top of my file, so I’d be sure to do it tomorrow.
Tuesday turned out to be Monday 2.0. The patches I’d applied to the deal yesterday seemed to be failing, so I had to redouble my focus and efforts, turning off my phone and telling Diane to hold all distractions.
I only had to work an extra hour late in my crisis management mode, then I packed up and headed home, weary and looking forward to my bath and bed.
As I walked through my front door and hung up my coat, I realized I hadn’t gotten any texts or calls in hours.
Pulling out my phone I remembered I’d turned it off in the morning.
As I turned it on, there was an avalanche of texts and a voice message.
I scrolled through the texts, telling myself I absolutely was not hoping that Jack had texted, and was only slightly let down when I saw none of them were from him.
The voice message was from an international number I didn’t recognize.
I turned up the volume and pressed play.
A bored voice speaking French told me that he was calling from l’Hopital de Paris, a French hospital, and I was listed as next of kin for Lily Lambert and they were calling to let me know she’d been admitted. And that was it.
Time stopped.
My grandmother was in the hospital? I hadn’t been able to reach her for days. What had happened? Was she OK? What would I do if something was truly wrong?
The safety valve on my stress containment field broke and I lost it. Waves of helpless anxiety threatened to pull me under its riptide. I didn’t know what to do. I was paralyzed.
Hardly knowing I was doing it, almost acting on their own, my fingers dialed.
“Hey, Eve!” came Jack’s cheerful voice. I could almost see his sunny smile and wished I could wrap myself in it to stop the shivering.
“Jack,” was all I could get out, and then a fountain of sobs followed.
“Eve, Eve, what’s going on? Honey, are you OK? How can I help?” He tried to soothe my panic and get me to tell him the problem. But I just couldn’t get the words out.
I choked back another round of sobs and managed to say, “Grandmère,” before I lost it again.
“What is it, Eve? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I wailed. “I’ve had my phone off all day and got a voice message from a hospital saying Grandmère had been admitted. I don’t know why! I don’t know if she’s ok. Jack, what do I do if she’s…if she’s…” I couldn’t bring myself to voice my worst fears.
“OK, here’s what I want you to do, Eve. Try to call your grandmother. And if you can’t get a hold of her, call her neighbor. What was his name?”
“Bernard.”
“Right. Call Bernard. And if you can’t reach either of them, call the hospital and see what information they can give you. It could be that it was just a quick check up and she’s not even there anymore.” I nodded, even though I realized he couldn’t see me.
“Have you eaten yet, Eve?”
I shook my head, numbly.
“Eve?”
Oh, right, he still couldn’t see me. “No, I haven’t. I just walked through my front door.”
“OK, go get some food in you. Then go pack a carry-on bag.”
“Pack a bag? What for, Jack?”
“I’ll make the arrangements and be there within an hour to pick you up and take you to the airport. If you’re not able to contact anyone, we’re going to Paris to make sure she’s ok. And don’t forget to put your passport in your purse.”
I sniffed and nodded. “Ok, Jack.”
“I’ll see you soon, hon. Hang on.” And the phone call ended.
Moving like a robot, I went into the kitchen.
While I made a cheese sandwich, I called Grandmère again.
No answer. Bernard. No answer. I called the hospital, and the automatic call routing sent my call to admitting.
The self-important voice on the other end confirmed for me that Lily Lambert had been admitted but refused to give me any other information.
She refused to tell me the date of admission, why she was admitted, or her current state.
“I’m sorry, to protect the privacy of the patients we’re not allowed to give our patient information over the phone.
If you would like more information, you’ll need to come here in person.
” Even when I tearfully explained that I was on another continent, she was unmoved and merely repeated her bureaucratic policy statement.
I longed for a corded phone so that I could slam down the receiver to satisfy my impotent rage.
It was almost exactly an hour later when my doorbell rang. I went to the door, my coat on, my luggage packed, and my passport in my purse. I was such a pro traveler that I could pack for a quick trip in my sleep, and that’s just about what I’d done.
I opened the door and stood for a moment to drink in the sight of Jack. Every fiber of my being cried out that this was exactly what I needed, and I flung myself into his arms, sobbing. He gathered me into the warmth and security of a hug and let me cry, clinging to him.
Pulling back slightly, he looked into my eyes with concern.
He wiped my tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs and pulled me back into a hug, his face nestled in my hair.
“We’ll get through this, Eve. I’m here for you.
You’re not alone,” He breathed warmth and strength into me.
He took my carry-on and as soon as I’d locked the door and dropped the keys into my bag, he took my hand and walked me out to the waiting cab.
When we got to the first-class waiting area we sat side by side, Jack’s arm around me, my head resting on his chest. I didn’t have the brain space to wonder whether this was friend appropriate, or whether I was pushing boundaries.
I only knew I needed the contact with Jack as a lifeline, to tether me and ground me.
I felt that without him holding me, I might spin off into space, like a helium balloon that’s lost its string.
We didn’t talk. I appreciated that he didn’t tell me everything would be fine.
He didn’t know. No one knew. He didn’t offer false promises, but he offered his presence to support me, whatever the outcome.
We held hands and boarded the plane in silence. Our seats were separated by a wide armrest, so Jack couldn’t put his arm around me, but we held hands. We declined the offers of food. We set the complimentary sleep masks aside. I was not remotely ready to sleep.
Somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, it hit me hard. I started shaking and tears rolled unchecked down my cheeks. Jack looked like he wanted to hold me but was frustrated that he couldn’t. “What is it, hon?”
The hot tears splashing down onto my chest I whispered, “Everyone leaves me. Everyone leaves.”
“What do you mean? Who left you?” Jack looked torn. He wanted to fix everything, but there was nothing he could do.
“My parents, LCB. What if Grandmère leaves me, too?” I said softly, letting the tears leak out.
Jack leaned over and took both my hands in his.
“Eve,” he said intensely, looking me directly in the eyes, “your parents did not leave you. They were taken from you. You were only ten and it might have felt like abandonment, but I know they would never have chosen to leave you. They were taken from you, and you had nothing to do with that. Hon, you have to know that.”
I blinked back tears. “But LCB left me.” I knew that was true. I knew he chose to leave, that I was not good enough for him.
Shaking his head with frustration, Jack said, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about LCB, Eve. And I think there might be more to it than you know. Will you do something for me?”
“What?” I asked, warily.
“Well, a very wise, wonderful, utterly gorgeous woman that I met once on a plane told me that to face what the future held, I had to forgive what was in the past. That helped me to deal with something very difficult. You might try it yourself.”
“Jack, our situations are totally different. And I told you; I already forgave him. I’ve moved on. And that has nothing to do with my grandmère being in hospital.”
“Eve, you are afraid of abandonment.”
He had me there. I was so afraid of it that it paralyzed me.
“Just do something with me.” When I gave him a suspicious look, he said, “Trust me, Eve.”
I gave one short nod. “What?”
“Close your eyes.” I did. “Good, now I want you to think about the happy times with LCB, the times when you smiled and laughed. Think about how he held you, how he kissed you and made love to you.” Jack paused and waited for me to sort through memories, reliving the thrill I got when LCB smiled at me, when he stroked my hair as we watched a movie together, the intense look he got when studying, and how his face would light up when I walked into the room.
I nodded.
“Ok, now I want you to think about your graduation day. Picture it clearly in your mind, what you see as soon as you graduated.”
I took my time, seeing it in my mind’s eye.
The brilliant blue sky, the soft breeze blowing cherry blossom petals over the crowd.
Ali took my hand and led me to where his father stood, his snowy white robes billowing in the breeze.
He dropped my hand and bowed to his father.
They seemed to be having a conversation just with their dark, intense eyes.
Ali did not seem happy. His shoulders slumped slightly, then he took a breath and stood straight.
He introduced me to his father. I felt like his father was judging me, like I was not good enough for his son.
And then Ali pulled his wife out by her elbow.
Her elbow.
He steered her by her elbow. He never put his arm around her or held her hand. His hand at her elbow was all the physical contact. He did not gaze at her adoringly. He did not look at her face at all as he led her away.
And then he looked back at me. One look that I don’t even remember seeing at the time. One look, but it wasn’t triumphant. He looked…in anguish. Like his father had set fire to his internal organs, but he wasn’t allowed to scream. And then his head turned and he walked away.
A shock slammed into me. A shock so violent it took my breath away.
Ali had loved me. He had never loved his wife. She was a wife in name only. He had taken a wife because his father decreed it, but he didn’t love her. He loved me. He loved me! The knowledge of it washed over me, like a cleansing shower. He hadn’t left me because he wanted to. He’d been forced to.
My eyes flew open with the power of the revelation. Jack was watching me closely. Yet more tears streaming down my face (would I ever run out?), I told Jack, “He loved me. Ali loved me. It was not his choice to leave me.”
He nodded. “I thought so, Eve.”
“How did you know?”
“How could he live with you for two years and not love you? I’d just met you when you swept me away. I figured there had to be something else going on.”
I nodded, mutely, trying to process this new information. It was one simple shift in thinking, but it changed so much. The check wasn’t a payment for services rendered —it was Ali loving me and trying to take care of me.
“So, you see, Eve, your fear of abandonment doesn’t have a leg to stand on. The people who love you will always do their very best to stick around because, honey, you’re worth sticking with.”