The snow was still falling as Isabelle sat in her hotel room and thought of him. And she knew now that he would never call her again. Everything she had seen in his face had spoken of his resolve not to get involved with her again. Only his eyes told her he still cared. She had to accept it now. Even if he had lied to her, this was what he wanted in the end. She had been right months before, there were no happy endings. There were only lessons and losses, and she had had a lot of those.

She was awake most of the night, and when she fell asleep at last, she was dreaming of him. She was in a deep sleep when the phone rang at her bedside at four A.M. It was Bill. Even wrapped in the mists of sleep, she would have known his voice anywhere.

“I'm sorry to call you so late. Were you asleep?” He sounded as tormented as she had felt before she finally went to sleep.

“Just.” She was wide awake the moment she heard his voice. He sounded so agonizingly familiar to her, and then she thought of something. “Where are you?” she asked softly, and heard him hesitate.

“Downstairs. In the lobby of your hotel. I'm as crazy as you are, but I didn't know when you were leaving, and I have to be in New York tomorrow. I thought if you really came all the way from Paris, maybe we should talk.” The insanity of the hour didn't seem to bother either of them.

“I'm glad you're here. Why don'tyou come upstairs?”

She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, and splashed some water on her face while she waited for him to come up. Five minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Bill was looking at her from his chair, and wheeled slowly in as she held the door open for him, and then closed it softly behind him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn't dare.

“I'm sorry to come here at this hour, Isabelle. I couldn't sleep. It was a shock seeing you there tonight. And kind of a crazy thing for you to do.” But he didn't look unhappy about it, he was touched, but upset about it too. It had awakened a myriad of barely sleeping feelings that he had spent months trying to flee. And then seeing her there outside the Kennedy Center in the snow brought it all back to him. “I'm so sorry about Teddy. What happened?”

She sat down on the couch facing him, and told him briefly about her son's final days. There was a catch in her voice as she talked about it, and her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and then she brushed away a lone tear that trickled down her cheek. Without thinking, he held out a hand and touched hers.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled through her tears. “Me too. Other people say it's a mercy for him, and I suppose it is, but he had some happy moments too. And I miss him so much. I never realized how much of my life revolved around him. I don't know what to do with myself now that he's gone, and Sophie is away at school.”

“It'll take time to adjust. You'll get used to it. It's an enormous change for you.” Everything had changed about her life, her home, the divorce, the death of her son, losing Bill. She had done nothing but face agonizing changes in the past year. And so had he. “I don't know what to say to you,” Bill said, looking unhappy. “I never thought we'd see each other again. I didn't think we should. I didn't think I had a right to ruin your life, Isabelle. You deserve so much more than I can offer. You need someone wonderful in your life, someone whole … not someone like me.”

“You are whole,” she said softly, her eyes riveted to him. She wasn't sure yet what he was saying to her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. It sounded like good-bye again, or more excuses about why he couldn't be with her. But at least they weren't lies this time, only what he perceived as the truth, however distorted it may be.

“We both know that's not the case.” He didn't want to remind her of their disastrous attempt to make love in the hospital in London. And unlike his son-in-law, he felt his handicaps presented too big an obstacle to overcome to marry her. And he didn't want to offer her less than that. He was convinced he had nothing to give that would be fair or reasonable for her. He vaguely remembered everything Helena had once told him, but she was young and idealistic too. Maybe love was only for the young. In any case, he had come to the hotel that night to see her, and explain things, and say good-bye to her decently. He at least owed her that, he had told himself before coming to the Four Seasons. He knew that the way he had left her before had been inordinately cruel. And she didn't deserve that either, particularly now after losing Teddy too. “I just wanted to say good-bye to you, and tell you I'm sorry. I never should have encouraged you to go to London. I feel like it was all my fault right from the beginning.”

“You gave me the only real love I've ever had from a man,” she said gently. “That's not something you owe me an apology for, Bill.”

“I'm sorry I can't be more than I am….” There were tears in his eyes as he looked at her and held her hand. “I'm sorry about all this,” he said sadly, and with that, she leaned forward and kissed him as he sat in his chair, and he gently pulled her toward him, and she sat on his lap as he kissed her. Their kisses were filled with tenderness and passion, and the memory of all they had hoped for, barely tasted, and lost too soon. And as he held her, for an instant he forgot his lost manhood, and felt desire race through him like a tide that could not be turned back, and neither of them had any inclination to. The force of what they felt for each other was irresistible and overwhelmed them both. And suddenly, for one single shining instant, he was no longer afraid. They kissed for a long time, and they were both breathless when he pulled away from her, and without explaining it, or saying anything to each other, she helped him onto the couch, and gently took off his clothes, as he slipped the satin nightgown off her shoulders and it fell to the floor.

For the merest moment he hesitated, but he couldn't stop himself this time. With every ounce of his body and soul, he was starving for her. And this time, there was no question about what happened. He couldn't remember ever making love to anyone like Isabelle, or wanting any woman more. It was everything they had both dreamed of and hoped for, and the kind of longing and openness and passion he had never experienced before in his life. Not even before the accident, or in his youth. There was no one in the world like her. She made him feel like a man again, and they were both overcome by desire.

And afterward, he lay with his arms around her and smiled. His worst fears had vanished, swept away by her tenderness and love. Everything that had just happened between them was better than either of them could have imagined. It was obvious that whatever had remained of his injuries before had been healed. Even if he could not walk, he felt whole, and was.

“Wow!” she said softly afterward as she clung to him, and he smiled. He felt like a boy again in her arms. “That was amazing.”

“So are you.” But after she wheeled him into the bathroom an hour later and left him there, and he emerged fully dressed forty minutes later, she saw a look in his eyes that worried her.

“It was crazy of me to come here,” he said somberly, already in the clutches of guilt and the throes of his own fears. “I shouldn't have done that.” He didn't want to mislead her or give her false hope. He still was adamant that she deserved a better life than he could give her, and making love to her would only complicate things for both of them. He had spent half an hour in the shower, agonizing, and berating himself, but also immensely relieved about what he had shared with her. His legs were gone forever, but his manhood had returned full force.

“I don't see why we shouldn't have done that,” Isabelle said calmly. “We're both adults, we're free. You're divorced, and I nearly am. My divorce will be final in a few months. We don't have young children who might object. We don't have to create problems that don't exist. Life is complicated enough without making it worse. And,” she said seriously, looking into his eyes, “life is precious and short. We could have died together in London, or worse, one of us. We didn't. Perhaps we should not waste the blessing that was bestowed on us.”

“I'm not a blessing, Isabelle,” he said with a look of determination. “Life with a man in a wheelchair is not a blessing, by any means.”

“Life between two people who love each other is.” They had been to hell and back, and Isabelle felt they had a right to a small piece of Heaven together, however unusual it may be. She loved him, just as he was, without hesitation or reservation, and was more than willing to stand beside him for the rest of her life, and wanted to.

“I can't let you do this to yourself, Isabelle,” he said firmly. “I won't do it. No matter what just happened here. I shouldn't have let that happen. It was stupid and irresponsible of me.”

“And human. Do you ever leave yourself room for that? Can't you just let yourself be happy once in a while and not beat yourself to death?” He smiled at what she said, knowing that some of it, if not all, was true. “Why do you have to make this difficult, when it isn't, and doesn't need to be? We love each other. Can't you just let that be enough?” She was making a lot more sense than he.

“Sometimes love isn't enough. You don't know what you'd be getting into, Isabelle.”

“Yes, I do,” she argued with him. It was nearly six o'clock in the morning, and she knew he had to leave soon. “I spent fifteen years taking care of Teddy. I know what caring for and loving someone truly sick means. You're not sick. You're strong and healthy and whole. You can't walk. That makes no difference to me. I wouldn't have cared if you couldn't make love again. That's a lovely bonus, but I would have been willing to live without that too. What we have together means more than that to me.”