Beautiful(29)

She shook her head. “I’ve only seen one friend since I got back from Brussels. I don’t feel ready to deal with that yet. They’re all in fashion, and they’ll be horrified by my face. I came to New York to see you,” she said simply. “I wanted to know what you’re like, and why my mother loved you so much. I don’t think she ever loved another man after you.” But she had the same feeling about him now. His whole face lit up when he talked about Marie-Helene. There were several photographs in the room of him with his wife. She was a distinguished-looking woman, even when she was young. Not a beauty, but a handsome woman. They stood next to each other in the photographs stiffly, like strangers, and neither of them smiled. It had struck Véronique when she glanced at them.

“Your mother and I were soulmates from the moment we met. If I hadn’t been so foolish and ambitious then, we’d have married. But I was in my late fifties when we met, and I wanted to chase the dream before it was too late. It was a dream that evaporated in my hands. I enjoyed my time in the Senate, but it was poor consolation for what we gave up. And by then, it really was too late. It was too late to change my life in my seventies. My wife was ill by then, and our children would have been very upset.”

Marie-Helene had managed well without him. Véronique knew it too. She had never depended on anyone but herself, and had provided a strong, loving foundation for their daughter. Marie-Helene was never needy. She was a proud, intelligent woman who would never have begged him to come back. She had never asked him for anything, and what he had given, he had given from his heart, for their daughter. There had been no room in his life for them then, but he had broken two hearts in the process, his own and Marie-Helene’s.

He asked about her schooling and her friends, and she said that her mother had always been her best friend. He got a sense of the immensity of the loss for her, which was even greater than his own. He asked about the money she had made as a supermodel, and she said that her mother had invested it well for her.

“She had a great head for business,” he complimented her. “We couldn’t see each other, because of the press, but we spoke fairly often. I always asked her advice.” In an odd way they had been life partners for twenty-four years, even though they weren’t together. “My wife and I were very different. She was more interested in her horses than anything. She was a great horsewoman. She hated politics, and she wasn’t even very close to our children. She didn’t have it in her. She was more interested in bloodlines and horseflesh than people.” She got the sense that he had been a lonely man, and increasingly she was understanding the bond between her parents that even time and distance hadn’t been able to sever. She realized that she really had been their love child, in the best sense of the word.

As the afternoon wore on, she could see how tired he was getting, and she didn’t want to wear him out. He started coughing a lot, and she told him she should go. He looked sad when she said it, but he didn’t ask her to stay longer.

“Will you come to see me again?” he asked her, holding both her hands and looking into her eyes, which were identical to his own.

“I will,” she said softly. “Thank you for seeing me today.” She didn’t know what to call him, “Senator” seemed silly, and “Dad” presumptuous, and foreign to her. He seemed to read her mind.

“You can call me Papa, if you like. That’s how your mother referred to me when I played with you when you were a baby.” She smiled and nodded, it sounded just right to her. It was what her friends had always called their fathers. It occurred to her then that now she knew what she had missed. It was bittersweet, as she helped him stand up, and get back in his wheelchair. “You’re a wonderful girl, Véronique. I owe a great debt to your mother. It’s a gift just seeing you today. And you know, those scars don’t make any difference. You’re still a stunningly beautiful girl, and they will probably fade some in time.”

“That’s what the doctors say, but they’re pretty awful.”

“You don’t need to wear that mask, or be ashamed,” he said, as she got ready to put it back on. “I think you’re brave enough to face the world without it. You’re a great deal like your mother. She was the bravest woman I ever knew.” He kissed Véronique’s hand then, and she bent down to kiss his cheek where he sat in the wheelchair. “When are you going back to Paris?”

“Tomorrow night.” The visit had been perfect. Better than she had hoped it would be.

“Come and see me again when you’re back in New York.” He smiled at her, and pressed a bell, and the nurse reappeared. He was beaming when Véronique left him. She walked into the hall, as the nurse wheeled him away. She had a lot to think about, as she got in the elevator and left the building a few minutes later. She had been with him for almost three hours. She walked down Fifth Avenue for a while, thinking about her father. She had no question in her mind now about why her mother had loved him. She was only sorry that they hadn’t made a life together, and he hadn’t been courageous enough to give up his dreams and his wife. But her mother was a wise woman, and he might have resented her if he had. She had set him free, and kept his heart. Theirs had obviously been a great love story, and Véronique was profoundly happy to have met him. She hoped she would see him again, and wished they lived in the same city. His health seemed so precarious that she wasn’t sure they would meet again, but she had taken enough from their visit, that she knew it would keep her warm for a long time. She guessed that her mother had felt that way too, and she’d had Véronique as part of him. That must have helped. She understood their relationship better now. Even at his age, he had immense charm.