Seeing her brought back so many memories, all of them good. The bad ones were forgotten now, and had been for a long time. For him anyway. He and Carole never talked about the past when they spoke. They only referred to the kids, or their current lives. He had been very kind to her when Sean died, he felt sorry for her. It was a tough break for her. She had married a man five years younger than she was, and he had died a young man. Jason had come out for the funeral, and been very supportive to her and the kids. And now here she was, fighting for her own life, two years after Sean had died. Life was strange, and cruel at times. But she was still alive. She had a chance. It was the best news he could give their children. He dreaded telling them. “I'll be back later,” he whispered to Carole as he kissed her again, and the respirator breathed rhythmically for her. “I love you, Carole. You're going to get well,” he said with a decisive look, and then walked out of the room, fighting back tears. He had to be strong, for her, and for Anthony and Chloe. No matter how he felt.

He left the hospital and walked to the nearby Gare d'Austerlitz in the pouring rain. He was soaked by the time he found a cab, and gave the driver the address of the Ritz. He looked as grim as he felt, as though he'd aged a hundred years in one day. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. No one did. And Carole least of all. She was a good woman, a nice person, a great mother, and had been a good wife to two men. One had left her for a tart and the other one had died. And now she was fighting for her life after a terrorist attack. If he had dared, he would have been furious with God, but he didn't dare. He needed His help too much now, and as they drove toward the Place Vendôme in the first arrondissement, he begged God for His help telling the kids. He couldn't even imagine saying the words to them. And then he remembered another call he had to make. He took out his cell phone and dialed L.A. It was almost midnight for Stevie, but he had promised he'd call as soon as he knew.

Stevie answered on the first ring. She was wide awake and had been waiting for his call. It had taken too long, in her opinion, unless his plane had arrived late. She should have heard from him by then if it wasn't Carole. She had been sick with fear for the last hour, and her voice shook when she said hello.

“It's her,” he said, without even identifying himself. She knew.

“Oh my God … how bad is it?” Tears ran instantly down her cheeks.

“It's not good. She's on a respirator, but she's alive. She's in a coma from a head injury. They didn't operate, but she had a hell of a blow. She's still in danger, and they don't know yet how damaged she may be.” He gave it to her straight. He was planning to be gentler with his kids, but Stevie had a right to know the whole truth, and she wouldn't have settled for less.

“Shit. I'll get the first plane out.” But it was a ten-hour flight for her, at best, if the winds were good. And a nine-hour time difference against her. She wouldn't be there till the next day. “Have you told the kids?”

“Not yet. I'm on my way to the hotel. There's nothing you can do. I don't know how much sense it makes for you to come.” She didn't need an assistant right now, and maybe never would again. But Stevie was her friend too. She had been a fixture in their family for years, and his children loved her too, as she loved them. “There's nothing any of us can do,” he said with a tremor in his own voice again.

“I couldn't be anywhere else,” she told him simply.

“Neither could I.” He gave her the name of the hospital and told her he'd see her in Paris tomorrow. “I'll get you a room at the Ritz.”

“I can stay in Carole's room,” Stevie said practically. There was no point paying for another room. “Unless you are,” she said cautiously. She didn't want to intrude.

“I booked my own, and I'll get rooms for the kids. I'll try to get them near Carole's room, so we can be close together. We've got some tough times ahead, and so does she. This is going to be a long road, if she recovers. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like if she doesn't.” He was surprised to realize that he wanted her to live, even if she was severely brain damaged. He didn't care if she was a vegetable after all was said and done, he didn't want her to die, for himself or his kids. They loved her in whatever state she was, and he knew Stevie did too. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good trip,” he said, sounding exhausted, and then hung up. Although it was three A.M. for her, he called his secretary at home after that, and told her not to tell his son, but to cancel all the appointments and meetings he had planned. “I won't be back for a while.” He apologized for calling her in the middle of the night, but she said she didn't mind.

“It's Miss Barber then?” his secretary asked, sounding crushed. She was one of Carole's biggest fans, as a person and a star. Carole had always been lovely to her on the phone.

“Yes, it is,” he said, in a grim voice. “I'll call Anthony in a few hours. Don't contact him till then. We're going to have a hell of a mess on our hands when the press find out. I just registered her at the hospital under my name, but that won't last. Sooner or later, word will get out, and you know what that's like.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Waterman,” his secretary said as tears filled her eyes. People all over the world were going to be heartbroken for Carole, and praying for her. Maybe it would help. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

“Thank you,” he said, and hung up as they reached the Ritz. He looked up the assistant manager he'd spoken to, at the front desk. He was wearing the formal uniform of the hotel, and met Jason with a sober face.

“I hope you have good news,” he said cautiously, but he could see that Jason didn't. It was written all over his face.

“No, I don't. It was her. We have to keep this as quiet as possible,” he said, slipping two hundred euros into the man's hand. It wasn't necessary, under the circumstances, but was appreciated anyway.

“I understand,” the assistant manager said. And then assured Jason that he would give him a three-bedroom suite across from Carole's. Jason told him Stevie would be arriving the next day, and would stay in Carole's rooms.

Jason followed the assistant manager upstairs. He didn't have the heart to see Carole's room, or the evidence of how alive she'd been so recently. Now she looked nearly dead to him. He walked into his suite behind the assistant manager and collapsed into a chair.

“Is there anything I can get you, sir?” Jason shook his head, and the young Englishman quietly left, as Jason stared miserably at the phone on the desk. He had a brief reprieve but knew that in a few hours, he would have to call Anthony and Chloe. They had to know. She might not even live until they arrived. He had to call them as soon as possible. And he didn't want to call Chloe until Anthony woke up in New York. He waited until seven A.M. New York time. He had showered and paced the room until then. He couldn't eat.

At one P.M. Paris time, with lead feet, he walked to the desk, and called his son first. Anthony was up and about to leave for the office for a breakfast meeting. Jason caught him just in time.

“How's Chicago, Dad?” Anthony sounded young and vital and full of life. He was a great kid, and Jason loved having him work for him. He was hardworking, smart, and kind. He was a lot like Carole, only with his father's keen financial mind. He was going to be a great venture capitalist one day and was learning fast.

“I don't know how Chicago is,” Jason said honestly. “I'm in Paris, and it's not so great.”

“What are you doing there?” Anthony sounded unsuspecting and surprised. He didn't even know his mother had gone away. She had made the decision to leave, right after the last time she talked to him, so he had no idea. He'd been too busy to call her in the past eleven days, which was unusual for him. But he knew she'd understand. He was planning to call her that day.

“Anthony …” He didn't even know where to start, as he took a sharp breath. “There's been an accident. Your mom is over here.”

He feared the worst instantly then. “Is she okay?”

“No, she's not. There was a bombing in a tunnel here two weeks ago. I didn't know until a couple of hours ago that she was a victim of the attack. She's been unidentified until now. I came over last night to check it out. She disappeared from the Ritz the day it happened.”

“Oh God.” Anthony sounded as though a building had just fallen on him. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. She has a brain injury, and she's in a coma.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Anthony was fighting tears and felt about four years old as he asked.

“We hope so. She made it this far, but she's not out of the woods yet. She's on a respirator.” He didn't want their son to be shocked when he saw her. Seeing her on the respirator was overwhelming.

“Shit, Dad … how could this happen?” Jason could hear that his son was crying. They both were.

“Rotten luck. Wrong place at the wrong time. I was praying it wasn't her all the way over. I can't believe they didn't recognize her.”

“Is her face messed up?” If it wasn't, he couldn't imagine that anyone on earth hadn't recognized his mother.

“Not really. She has a cut and a small burn on one side of her face. Nothing a good plastic surgeon won't be able to fix up. Her head injury is the problem. We're just going to have to sit this out.”

“I'm coming over. Have you told Chloe?”

“I called you first. I'm going to call her now. There's a six o'clock flight out of Kennedy, if you can get a seat. It'll get you here tomorrow morning Paris time.”