“How was your trip?” he asked, smiling at her, from a distance. He made no move to come toward her as she stood cautiously in the doorway.

“Fine.” It was as though the past two months hadn't happened. She felt suddenly as though she had only been gone for two days, and he took no notice of the fact that she'd been gone for two months and had nearly died during her absence. Since she had still been comatose when he left her in the hospital in London, she had not seen him since she left Paris. “The nurse was very helpful. It would have been hard to travel without her. The children seem fine,” Isabelle said quietly, if you discounted the fact that Teddy had lost weight and was running a fever, and Sophie had aged five years in two months. Other than that, everything was “fine.” But she knew he wouldn't want to hear about it. As far as Gordon was concerned, matters that concerned the children and the house were not his province or concern.

“How do you feel?” He looked worried as he asked her, which surprised her. She had expected him to want her to pretend that she hadn't been ill at all. He hated illness and sick people so much, he thought it was a sign of weakness when people were ill. And as they both knew, illness of any kind reminded him of his mother, and was painful for him. In his mind, his entire childhood had been hampered and tainted by her illness.

“I feel all right. Just tired. I think it will take me a while to feel like myself again.” She had to see a specialist the following week for her heart and her liver, and the doctor had warned her that if she had headaches, even mild ones, she would have to be seen immediately by a doctor. The doctor in London expected her full recovery to take close to a year, if not longer.

“You look very well,” Gordon said pleasantly, wanting it to be so. For a variety of reasons, he wanted the past two months to have never happened. He still hadn't gotten up to hug her or kiss her. And he made no move toward her as they spoke. He was an entirely different animal from Bill. And once again, she wondered if Gordon was angry at her. He knew of her friendship with him, and Bill had told her that Gordon had banished him from her room. But he asked her no questions, and made no mention of him. She knew that Bill Robinson was now a subject that was entirely taboo between them. Gordon did not have to warn her, she understood it. “Have you had dinner?” he asked coolly.

She shook her head, and as it always did now, it gave her a slightly dizzy feeling. She had to remind herself not to make any sudden moves with her head, at least for a while. “Not yet. I was waiting for you. Teddy's eaten, and Sophie is out with friends.” Gordon frowned as she said it.

“I assumed you'd want to go to bed when you arrived, Isabelle. This has been a long day for you, for your first day out. I have a business dinner tonight, with an important client from Bangkok.”

“That's all right.” She smiled at him. She was still standing near the doorway. He had never actually invited her to come in, and it was a formality she respected. He had always made it clear to everyone that one needed an invitation from him to enter these rooms, and that applied even to her. “I'll have Josephine bring me up a tray. I'm not hungry anyway.” All she wanted was some soup, or maybe toast and eggs.

“I think that's an excellent idea. We'll have dinner tomorrow.” In the past, it wouldn't have surprised her that he had made no particular fuss about her return after her long absence. But now that she knew Bill so intimately and how he treated her, it startled her that Gordon was so distant and so cool. The two men couldn't possibly have been more different. There was no acknowledgment of her illness, no celebration, no flowers. He didn't even come to hug her before she quietly left his room. And she knew she would not see him again that night. She was actually surprised when he stopped in to see her for a minute on his way out. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a white shirt, a navy Hermes tie, and smelled of cologne. He looked like he was going to a dinner party, but she didn't ask him.

“Have you eaten?” For Gordon, the question was a sign of unusual solicitousness, and she was touched by the attention. These were the crumbs of affection she had been satisfied with in the past.

“I had eggs and some soup,” she said politely, and he nodded.

“Get some rest. Don't stay up with Teddy tonight. He has a nurse for that.” She would have liked to be with Teddy, but knew she didn't feel up to it yet.

“He's already asleep,” she told Gordon. She had just checked on him, and gone back to her own bed, before Gordon walked in to talk to her.

“You'd be wise to do the same,” he said, once again not approaching her bed. He rarely touched her, never hugged her, hadn't kissed her in years, and kept a noticeable distance from her when they were in the same room. The only time he was ever affectionate with her was when they were out in public. Years before, she had been fooled by it, thinking he was warming up to her, and then when they got home, he would be cold to her as soon as they closed their bedroom door. Being close to anyone was the hardest thing in the world for Gordon, which was in sharp contrast to Isabelle, who was warm, affectionate, and loving. It was also light-years from what she had just experienced with Bill, who constantly wanted to hold and touch her. “See you tomorrow,” Gordon said, hesitating slightly. For an instant, she thought he might walk fully into the room, and approach her, but without saying anything more, he turned on his heel and left. It was not the marriage she had ever dreamed of having, but there was no point thinking about it now, it was the only one she had. All she had to do now was readjust to it, after her months with Bill. It was no small feat.

A few minutes after Gordon left, she picked up the phone and dialed London. And when the switchboard answered, she asked to speak to Bill. He sounded depressed when he answered, and as soon as he heard her voice at the other end, he beamed.

“I was lying here thinking about you,” he said easily, and his tone was in sharp contrast to the greeting she'd had from Gordon. “How are the children?”

“Wonderful,” she smiled just hearing him. He sounded like a husband on a trip checking how her day was. “They were so happy to see me. Poor Sophie looks exhausted.”

“How's Teddy?”

“Very thin. He's getting fevers again. But he seemed a bit better tonight. I'm going to spend the day with him tomorrow.”

“Don't overdo it. You're not up to full speed yourself yet.”

“I know, sweetheart. How was your day?” It had been awful, as far as he was concerned, but he didn't say that to her. He'd been lonely all day after she left, but he knew he had to get used to it. All they had now were phone calls. Just like the old days. But after nearly two months of living together, the phone calls seemed like so little to both of them. They both longed for the warmth and closeness they had shared.

“It was all right,” he lied. “I missed you. They're trying to get me ready to leave next week. I feel like I'm going to boot camp.” He was going to the rehab center with the most rigorous program, because he thought they might get the best results. His future depended on it, and theirs. And in spite of what they had told him in London about his legs, he was hopeful. He still felt sure that in the States they might tell him something different. He had more faith in them.

They talked for a while about her homecoming, and the kids, and he had had a call from Jane that afternoon, which had cheered him up a little. And it was only at the end of the call that he asked her about Gordon.

“How was he?”

“He was Gordon. He came home late from the office, and he's out tonight. It doesn't matter.” She had left her heart with Bill in London, except for the part of her that belonged to her children. But there was nothing left for her husband. It was too late, and too much had happened over the years. Even if she never saw Bill again, she knew that it was too late for her and Gordon. All they had now was the shell of an empty marriage, the appearance of it, and not the substance.

“Does he seem angry at you?” Bill had been worried about it. He had seemed so angry to Bill during those first days in London.

“No, he doesn't. But he'd never show it. If he is, it'll come out sometime when I don't expect it. That's how he works. He saves things. The payback always comes later.” But she didn't have any sense of it. He seemed detached from her, but he had been for years. There was nothing different about it. It was all very much the same.

“I just don't want him taking it out on you because you were with me during the accident. I know he was very upset about it. With good reason.” And even better reason now, but he didn't know that.

“Did you talk to Cynthia?” she asked, trying to sound casual. She had noticed in London that his wife never called him. He had had several conversations with his lawyer in the hospital in London and had filed the divorce papers without telling Isabelle. “Jane said she's in Southampton. I'll see her when I'm in the hospital in New York.”

“I should hope so.” Isabelle was shocked at her lack of attention.

He promised to call Isabelle the next day then. She said she'd be home all day. It was easy for them now with only an hour's time difference between Paris and London. It would be harder when he was in New York, but Isabelle knew they'd manage just as they had for years. Bill told her he loved her when he hung up, and as she lay in her bed that night, in the house that was supposed to be her home, she felt as though she were in a strange place. She felt as though her home was with Bill in London.