First Sight (31 page)

She went back to the hotel that night and slept for hours. It was too late to call Jean-Charles when she got back from Newark. And when he left Paris the next morning, it would be too early for her. Due to the time difference, there would be silence between them until he arrived. He had told her not to meet him at the airport. He would meet her at the hotel, and call her as soon as he arrived. As it turned out, she went to bed so early, and slept so deeply, that she woke up just after six o’clock in the morning. She had plenty of time to bathe, dress, have breakfast, and meet him at the airport. She had his flight number, and called her driver at seven o’clock. She told him to meet her downstairs at nine. Jean-Charles’s flight was arriving at ten
A.M.
She just hoped she wouldn’t miss him as he came out of customs, which was always a zoo in New York.

She was pensive on the way to the airport, thinking about him, and all they had said to each other in the past two weeks. They had both allowed themselves to go to the edge of reason. What if in the clear light of day, it was a total bust? They were both well aware that that could happen. She couldn’t wait to see him and find out, although it was scaring her to death. It seemed crazy to have these adolescent feelings at her age.

As his plane landed at Kennedy Airport, Jean-Charles was having the same thoughts. What if it had been his imagination? Or hers? A wild flight of fancy, a mad infatuation that would evaporate instantly the moment they saw each other? They were about to find out. He was glad he still had some time to compose himself, going through customs, and the long cab ride into the city. He wanted to shave and shower before he saw her. And as the plane touched the ground, he saw that it was snowing. Big graceful flakes that were falling slowly from the sky. There was a blanket of snow, added to what had fallen earlier that week. There was a magical quality to it as they taxied down the runway toward the terminal, stopped, and the jetway was attached to the plane.

He was one of the first to leave the aircraft, with the carry-on he had brought with him. He had no bags to claim, all he needed was a stamp in his passport at immigration, and he would be on his way. His heart nearly pounded as he stood in line, got his passport stamped, and walked into the terminal with his head down, thinking about her, and the fateful meeting, and ensuing days, that were about to happen at the Four Seasons in New York.

Timmie was standing just outside the doors leading from customs, leaning against a pillar and intently watching the people coming out. She was suddenly afraid that she would miss him, or perhaps already had. But the flashing sign said his flight was still in customs. She was watching the doors, as she suddenly saw him come out, with his head down, in a navy blue topcoat, and his bag in his hand. She smiled the minute she saw him, and felt her heart leap, as he walked toward her, never knowing she was there. She had no doubt in her mind or heart as she saw him walk toward her. She knew that what she was seeing was her destiny, in the form of this one man.

He was only a few feet away from her, when instinctively, he looked up and saw her. His breath caught, and he stopped, smiling slowly. She took two long steps toward him, as he let go of his bag, and he put his arms around her. People swirled around them, like water in a stream, as Jean-Charles held Timmie tightly in his arms, and forgetting everything around them, he kissed her, and she felt everything in her soul dissolve into his. They stood there for what felt like an eternity as he held her, and could barely pull away from each other, until at last he looked down at her and smiled.

“
Bonjour
, Madame O’Neill,” he said gently as she smiled up at him.

“Bonjour, docteur,”
she whispered back, and felt an overwhelming urge again to tell him she loved him. And instead, she just smiled at him, and everything she felt for him showed in her eyes. “I’m so happy to see you.” Every fiber of her being trembled as she said it. She had never been as happy to see anyone in her life. She had the feeling as she stood and looked at him that a great love story was beginning.

Slowly, with his arm around her, they walked out of the airport, and she found her driver. Jean-Charles kissed her again the moment they got in the car, and they talked quietly all the way into the city. She explained to him about the union negotiations she had been doing, and all the intricacies involved, as he listened with fascination. They talked about his work, his patients, and above all, they talked about how excited they were to see each other, which was obvious just looking at them both.

He checked into the hotel and she followed him to his room, which was on the same floor as hers. They were both on the forty-eighth floor with a spectacular view of the city. And again in his room, he set down his bag, and took her in his arms, as they both became aware that sticking to their plan of abstinence was going to be a greater challenge than expected. Timmie was beginning to wonder if they had been somewhat optimistic about their ability to resist each other. What they were both aware of now was that after their confidences of months before, their many phone calls in the past weeks, and their irresistible attraction to each other, they felt totally at ease in each other’s company, as though they were picking up the threads of an existing, or even long-term, relationship, not a meeting between strangers. They felt like two halves of a single whole that fit seamlessly together. The result was a sense of unity and love that astounded them both, and took Timmie’s breath away, as he held her in his arms again and kissed her. Even after the brief time they had shared, there was no question in her mind that she loved him. And she could see in his eyes that what she felt for him was the mirror image of everything he was experiencing toward her.

They went back to her suite so she could check her messages, and decided to take a walk in the park to get some air. They walked down the snow-covered path in Central Park, with drifts on either side of them, and everything was blanketed in pristine beauty. She threw a snowball at him, which left powdery marks on his dark blue coat, and he gently tossed a handful of the sugary loose snow at her bright red hair. She wanted to run through the snow with him, to be a child again, to share all the joy that neither of them had ever before known until they found each other.

Their faces were bright with the cold, as they walked back toward the hotel, and then on a spur-of-the-moment impulse, he hired a horse-drawn hansom cab to drive them through the park in the winter wonderland all around them. They sat in the cab, with a heavy blanket over their laps, snuggled next to each other like happy children. And afterward, they went to lunch at the Pierre. It was mid-afternoon by then, and they wandered through assorted stores on the way back, and finally got back to her suite, looking happy and relaxed. They hadn’t stopped talking all afternoon, and had held hands throughout like high school lovers. Timmie felt fifteen years old again, and Jean-Charles said he felt twenty. And for her, it was a far happier fifteen than she had ever known or dreamed of. For this infinitely precious moment in time, life was perfect, with him.

“Where would you like to go to dinner, my darling?” he asked her, as they relaxed in the living room of her suite. He suggested Café Boulud or La Grenouille, which were the only restaurants he knew well in New York. She knew a variety of more fashionable options in SoHo and the West Village. In the end, they decided on a tiny restaurant she knew, which was warm and cozy. They had days to decide where else to go, to show off, to indulge themselves, and to discover each other.

He left her so she could dress, and went back to his own room to shower and change. She beamed at him when she opened the door to him again an hour later. He looked impeccable and elegant as always, and he was struck yet again by how beautiful she was, with her big green eyes, long red hair, and lithe youthful body. She was glowing. He kissed her the moment he saw her, and followed her slowly into the suite, with his arms tight around her. She was dizzy when they stopped, and her voice was soft with dusky passion. Suddenly, their dinner plans seemed of no interest whatsoever, to either of them, as he stood there kissing and holding her, unable to resist her.

“I’m sorry … I can’t stop …,” he said hoarsely, as she smiled shyly at him. She didn’t want to stop either, and without saying a word to him, she kissed him again, and slowly took off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was a not-so-subtle message, and he pulled away to look at her with a question in his eyes. He didn’t want to do anything she would regret later, and he knew how strongly she felt about his intermediate situation, on the way out of his marriage. “Timmie, what are you doing?” he asked gently.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” he whispered to her, and then said it in French, which felt so much more natural to him, and more real than anything he could say to her in English. “
Je t’aime … tellement …
so much …” She could see in his eyes that he meant it. It seemed stupid now to follow rules and plans that had made sense in the beginning, and made no sense now in the face of how deeply they were falling in love with each other. The boundaries were rapidly dissolving between them. “I don’t want you to do anything that you will be sorry about later. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Will you hurt me, Jean-Charles?” she asked, looking at him sadly. She was asking if he would betray her, if he would never leave his wife, or abandon her one day. Promises that were as fragile as butterfly wings, and could not always be protected. They both knew there were no guarantees in the world, only hopes and dreams and good intentions. They were both people of honesty, integrity, and goodwill. Perhaps it was all one could hope for.

“I hope never,” he said honestly, and she could see that he meant it as she nodded. “And you?”

“I love you … I will never betray you, and hope I never hurt you.” They were the only vows they could exchange at this point in their lives, the promise to do the best they could to stand side by side and protect each other. It was enough for Timmie, and for now it was enough for Jean-Charles as well. No one could see into the future and predict the challenges or pain that would come later. The only question was if they were willing to risk the uncertainty of life, to weather whatever storms came, together.

She said not a word to him then, and walked him slowly into her bedroom, where she unbuttoned his shirt, undid his belt buckle, and gently slid off his trousers, as he undressed her, and within moments, their clothes lay in a heap on the floor, tangled together, and they slid under the sheets together, her long smooth ivory body entwined in his powerful male one. The room was dark, and she could feel the force of his passion for her throbbing next to her, as she ached for him to be inside her.

“Timmie,
je t’aime …
,” he moaned softly, as she almost purred with desire for him, and told him she loved him too. And then suddenly their passion overwhelmed them, irresistible, beyond measure or reason, a tidal wave of desire that swept them both away with such overwhelming force that neither of them could have stopped it, nor wanted to. Timmie gave herself to him completely, her hopes, her dreams, her heart, her body, and he took her with him on a journey of such love and passion that they both knew without question that wherever it led them, they had no choice now but to be together. They both sensed as they lay in each other’s arms that it was destined.

And later, as they lay clinging to each other peacefully, two bodies seeming one, they dozed peacefully, and their dinner plans were forgotten. What had happened was so much better. They had crossed the bridge from uncertainty into a sure love for each other. The tides of passion had brought them there, and what they found now in each other’s arms was a love that had irreversibly bound them together. With luck, and the blessing of the gods, hopefully forever.

Chapter 14

The days Timmie and Jean-Charles shared in New York were magic. They took long walks in the park, went to art galleries, and stopped in funny little restaurants for coffee, or pizza when they were starving. They walked all over SoHo, enjoying its charms and delights, and between times and all night long, they fell into each other’s arms with insatiable passion. Timmie had never made love so often in her life, and Jean-Charles rediscovered youthful powers he had long since thought were forgotten. They made love for hours. They were both in odd time zones from their travels, dozed and slept, woke to make love, took naps in the afternoon once they were sated, and called room service for enormous breakfasts at four in the morning. One night they left the hotel on foot as it began snowing again, and found a truck stop on the West Side, where they ate steak and hash browns at five in the morning.

There was an incredible surreality to it, a sense that they were dreaming. And yet again and again, as they woke up and saw each other, they smiled broadly, and then laughed with the sheer joy of the miracle they were sharing. On Sunday, as Timmie packed her bags, she looked bereft, as he lay in bed and watched her.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said sadly. After living with him for only four days, she could no longer imagine a life without him. This was dangerous, heady stuff, and they were both becoming rapidly addicted to it. He was just as besotted as she was, and just as sad to leave her.

“Nor I,” he said, looking somber. “I don’t want to go back to Paris.” But they both had lives they had to return to. “I will come to California to see you.”

“Do you promise?” She felt like a frightened child as she said it. What if she never saw him again? If he changed his mind, or abandoned her, how would she survive it? She had lost so many people she had loved before that she could no longer bear the thought of that happening to her again. And he understood what he was seeing. Her panic mirrored his own, just as their love for each other was an identical reflection of what each felt for the other. They were perfectly matched in their passion, feelings, and terror.