One Summer in Paris(18)

The fact that she felt the need to get away from Monica made her feel lonelier than she ever had in her life before. “If I cause him stress and then he dies, it’s my fault.”

Guilt. Blame. Responsibility.

An ugly sludge of emotions churned inside her, the same ones she’d felt when her parents had died. She knew you didn’t have to be directly involved to feel responsible. She’d had to live with those feelings, and David was the only one who knew.

David, who was no longer there for her.

David, who would now share secrets with someone else.

Losing that particular intimacy was the most painful thing of all.

A steady stream of people flowed through the revolving door at the entrance to the hospital, and Grace watched, wondering what their stories were. Were they visitors? Patients?

After he collapsed in the restaurant, David had been taken to the nearest hospital and rushed straight to surgery to have a procedure on his coronary artery. Or was it arteries? She couldn’t remember. Grace had sat on a cold, hard chair in a drafty corridor, feeling as if someone had lifted her out of her comfortable life and dropped her in a prison cell.

At some point during the night the doctor had found her, but his words had flowed past Grace like a river rushing over rocks. She’d heard blockage and a few other technical words that had meant nothing to her. She’d tried to pay attention, but her mind had refused to focus for more than a few minutes before wandering back to the fact that David wanted a divorce.

“David should tell Sophie,” Monica said. “He’s the one having the affair.”

Grace forced herself to move. “I’ll deal with that part later. He could be discharged tomorrow.”

“So soon? Please tell me you’re not thinking of taking him home.”

Grace paused with her hand on the door. “I don’t know. I’m taking this minute by minute.”

“Do you think he’ll want to stay—”

“—with her? I don’t know that, either. But if he wants to come home, I don’t see that I have much choice.”

“Of course you have a choice!” Monica exploded with rage and then subsided. “What can I do? I feel helpless.”

“You are helping.” In fact, she wasn’t helping, but that wasn’t Monica’s fault. There was nothing anyone could do. “Thanks for the ride.”

Grace slid out of the car and walked slowly into the hospital. It was the loneliest walk of her life.

Monica was right. They needed to tell Sophie. They couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Hi, Mrs. Porter.” The nurse in charge of the cardiac care ward greeted her from the desk. Grace had virtually lived at the hospital for the past few days. It was hardly surprising that they all knew her.

“Hi, Sally. How is he today?”

“Doing better. Dr. Morton saw him this morning, and she promised to drop by and talk to you both once you arrived. I’ll let her know you’re here.” She reached for the phone, and Grace walked into David’s room.

His eyes were closed, his skin pale but even a heart attack didn’t stop him being handsome.

She remembered what he’d said about feeling as if the best days of his life were behind him. The memory was like a sharp stab. What he’d really been saying was that there was nothing left to look forward to. The life with her wasn’t enough for him.

Forcing herself forward, she walked to the chair next to his bed.

David opened his eyes. “Grace.”

She put her bag on the floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. I guess you’re thinking it’s just punishment. They put in a stent, did they tell you?”

Had they? Maybe. She hoped he didn’t ask her any other questions, but fortunately at that moment Dr. Morton walked in. Elizabeth Morton had a daughter in Grace’s class, so they knew each other from school events.

“Hi, Grace. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” As well as can be expected for a woman who has just been dumped by her husband of twenty-five years. Did Dr. Morton know? How far had word spread? Grace tried to remember who had been in the restaurant that night.

“I’m the patient.” David made a feeble attempt at a joke. “You’re supposed to be asking me how I am.”

Was it her imagination, or did Dr. Morton’s smile cool slightly as she looked at him?

Oh God, Grace thought. She knows.

The thought of female solidarity should have cheered her, but it didn’t. She hated the thought of people gossiping about her. It was so personal. Humiliating.

Everyone would be wondering why David Porter had chosen to leave his wife. They’d be looking at her and speculating. Did she nag? Was she bad in bed?

Maybe they all thought she was boring, too.

She could feel droplets of confidence evaporating like water in sunlight.

“You can go home tomorrow.” Dr. Morton flipped through the notes. She was clinical. Efficient. “We’ll send you a date for a follow-up.” She gave some general advice and then added, “This is a question I find some patients are embarrassed to ask, so I always give the answer anyway. Sex.” Her face was expressionless, but Grace knew she’d never be able to meet her at the school gates without remembering this conversation.

She didn’t want Dr. Morton to talk about sex, but it seemed her wishes no longer counted for anything.