“Why don't they just put us all out on an iceberg somewhere? That might solve the problem. Then we wouldn't be a problem for anyone, they wouldn't have to be decent human beings, or have any compassion, or even grow up. You know what? I admire the hell out of Jane and Joe for what they're doing. They believe in each other, and they're right. They love each other, and that's worth everything. The rest of it, the chair, or the crutches, or no chair or no crutches, it doesn't mean a damn thing. At least not to me. I don't care if the guy I marry is deaf, dumb, and blind, if he's a good person, and we love each other, and he's a decent human being, then that's good enough for me. This wheelchair wouldn't mean shit to me if someone else were in it instead of me.”

“Good. Then marry me,” Bill teased her, and she sat back in her chair and smiled through her tears.

“You'd be a huge pain in the ass,” she laughed at him. “And your outlook stinks. I still think you should talk to the shrink before you leave, or you're going to do some really stupid stuff.” She was one of Linda Harcourt's patients too, and had done well with her, because she wanted to.

“Like what?” He looked defensive. He liked her, she was a very bright girl, and they had become good friends.

“Like walk out on people who love you, because you think you're a burden to them. Why don't you let them figure that out, instead of deciding for them? You have no right to control what they think, or make decisions for them.”

“Maybe I know better. If you love someone, you want to protect them from themselves.”

“You can't protect people,” Helena said clearly. She had done a lot of work on herself and faced a lot of things, more so than Bill. He had spent all his time lifting weights, and had eventually avoided the shrink. Helena could see that. “People have a right to make their own choices. You can't take that away from them, just like they can't take that away from us. It's a question of respect.”

“Maybe you're right,” Bill said, looking pensive. “I don't have the answers. I just have the questions. And I'm a lot older than you are. Maybe at your age, I'd be braver too. Maybe you're right, maybe Sergio is a shit. But if he is, you're better off without him, and you're better off knowing it now.”

“That, I agree with,” she said sadly, “but it hurts anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said, “it does. But so does life. There's a lot of stuff that happens that hurts like hell. Some people never fail to disappoint you. It's nice to weed them out early on,” he said, and she nodded. He was thinking of Cynthia, and that had had nothing to do with his chair.

“I guess Sergio is one of those,” she said philosophically.

“Maybe next time you'll get a smaller ring, and a bigger guy.” She nodded, and they chatted for a while, and then she went back to her own room, but she reminded Bill again that she thought he should see the shrink before he left. And when Isabelle called him later that night, he sounded troubled. Some of the things Helena had said had confused him again. She was so emphatic about their limitations not making a difference to the people who loved them, that he almost wondered if she was right, but not quite. She was a young woman, and if a man wanted to take care of her, it was one thing. He was a man, and he felt he had to be able to offer more than that.

“You sound tired,” Isabelle said, sensing instantly that he was feeling down. “Did you walk around too much and wear yourself out today?” She had believed him totally, about his being able to walk again. And he looked at his wheelchair feeling guilty as he listened. It was the lie that made it impossible for him to see her again. Like poisoning his food, he couldn't go near it again. But that had been his plan. And he had no intention of backing out now, no matter what Helena said. It had already gone too far, and he still believed that leaving her was the right thing to do. The only question in his mind was when.

“Yeah, I guess so. I have a lot to do before I leave,” he said, sounding vague.

“They did a great job,” Isabelle said, sounding gentler than ever, and as trusting, and just hearing her ripped out his heart. However misguided, what he wanted was to give her the gift of freedom, from a burden he felt certain would ruin her life. And he knew Helena would have told him Isabelle had the right to make her own choice, and he was taking away that right. But he was convinced he knew best, and Isabelle was too kind to ever walk out on him. But for days, she had heard something odd in his voice, and she couldn't tell what. He sounded different and distant and unhappy. All she could guess was that he was nervous about leaving the protected environment of the rehab facility and starting a new life. But now that he could walk again, as far as she knew, it was all going to be so much easier for him, and she was so relieved.

“How's the wedding coming?” she asked a few minutes later, hoping to distract him from whatever was bothering him.

“Cynthia's going crazy. I'm trying to stay out of it. All I have to do is pay the bills. That's the easy part.” The hard part was what he was planning to do to Isabelle. But she didn't know that yet. “How's Teddy?” He rapidly changed the subject. She noticed that he was doing that a lot these days, hopping from one topic to another, as though he was uncomfortable suddenly talking about anything in depth. It was so unlike him, and the conversations they'd shared for nearly five years. She knew him better than he thought, better than he wanted her to.

“He's terrific,” Isabelle said, which reassured him. He could never have ended it with her if Teddy had been failing. She was sealing her own fate by telling Bill he was doing well. “He's never been better.”

“Good.” And then he told her he was going to Washington to look for an apartment the following week. It made her ask him about Paris again.

“Maybe you can come over after the wedding, if you're not too tired. Just for a few days before you start work.” It was a lot to ask of him, but she was afraid he wouldn't have time to do it after that. She knew just how busy things got for him, and would now.

“I'll have to see. I may be starting on the campaign that week.” It was another lie. He wasn't starting on the campaign until the end of June, and he would have had time to come over, but he wasn't walking, and he couldn't tell her that. He had made it impossible for himself to visit her. “We'll figure it out” was all he offered, and when they hung up this time, she was worried. She had the distinct feeling he was avoiding her, and she didn't know why. It had started happening from one day to the next, literally overnight. What she didn't know was that his vagueness had started the day his therapists had confirmed that he would never walk again. That had been the turning point for him. He had always promised himself that when that happened, he would stop calling her, and never see her again. But he couldn't bring himself to stop calling her yet. At her end, Isabelle was worried that she had said something that offended him. But he didn't seem angry at her, just distant. It had been nine months since she'd seen him, and she had no idea when he was going to come to Paris to visit her. And there was no way she could go to Washington or New York to see him. She couldn't leave Teddy for that long or venture that far away.

By the time the wedding came, Isabelle was panicked. He had missed calling her a few times, and when she asked him about it, he said he'd been too busy. He had found an apartment in Washington, and met with the young senator about his campaign. He sounded excited when he talked about that. And for two days after the wedding, Bill didn't call her at all. And for some odd, instinctive reason, she suddenly didn't dare call him. He had suddenly put up walls to keep her out.

It had been a beautiful wedding, and everyone had cried when Joe and Jane exchanged their vows. With Joe in his wheelchair, and Jane standing next to him, holding his hand, it had been incredibly touching. And no one cried more than Bill, sitting in his wheelchair, next to Cynthia, at the end of the first pew.

“Are you okay?” she asked him at the reception. He was sitting next to her, and she found him unusually quiet. “You look stressed.”

“Just thinking about work. I'm leaving the rehab and going to Washington in a few days. You know how I am.” Physically, he looked terrific, but she could see that something was bothering him.

“You seem upset.” In the end, she assumed that it had gotten to him watching his baby get married.

Olivia came and sat with him some of the time, and when Jane was supposed to dance with him, she danced with her grandfather instead while he and Joe watched, smiling at her. It didn't seem to bother Joe, but it bothered Bill. A lot. It was a beautiful wedding, a great party, and everyone had a great time. And as he rode back to the rehab facility that night, all Bill could think about was Isabelle.

He stayed in his room and didn't even go to physical therapy for two days, and then he finally got up the guts to make the call. She was worried about him by then, and he hadn't answered his phone when she finally called him. It had rung several times in the past two days. He knew it was Isabelle. And he just lay on his bed, thinking about her, and wishing he were dead.

“Where have you been?” she asked, with a note of panic in her voice when he finally called. “I thought you went on the honeymoon with them,” she teased. But he could hear that she was worried and hurt and hated himself for it. He knew that the concern she had felt was nothing compared to the pain she was going to feel. After five years of talking to her, it was inconceivable to no longer have her in his life. But he was certain now that it was the final gift that he owed her. “How was the wedding?” she asked innocently, and he sighed.