"Thanks. I've had more than my share."
"Go on—Fm driving."
Not that he was drunk. But in a way he felt himself losing control. He struggled to keep the conversation abstract and innocuous. The congress at Montpellier. P. Herbert Harrison. The book Sheila was editing.
"You must love her very much/* said Nicole.
''She's why I believe in marriage/' Bob replied.
"I envy you that faith/' said Nicole Guerin, her manner for the first time slightly wistful.
They drank coffee. It was getting late. The place was quieting down.
**I should really be getting back/' said Bob.
*Tes/' she agreed, and stood up. "You're starting to look uncomfortable. It's either fatigue, your bruise—or my personality."
He thought he should protest. But her triply accurate diagnosis was irrefutable.
"Come on/' she said. "You'll be in bed in twenty minutes/'
The highway was lit only by the moon. She had taken the Route de la Corniche out of Sete, to show him the tranquil shore before returning to Mont-pellier.
"Tomorrow I'll show you some wild forests and extraordinary limestone formations we call causses. They're not quite the Grand Canyon, but they do have a certain savage beauty. Anyway, you'll see."
Will I? thought Bob. Do I have to face temptation again in the light of day? He did not reply, hoping his silence would discourage her from making plans for them.
"Can you see those beaches we're passing?" she asked.
"Yes. They're nice and white."
"And deserted. Doesn't the water look inviting?"
"Yes." He was being polite.
"Tlien why don't we take a swim?"
"Now?"
"Not to exercise," she said. "Tliat would be too American. I mean just run ni the water and get wet."
She turned to smile at him.
He could not answer yes. He did not want to answer no. He simply let her pull the car onto a small dirt road above the long and silent beach.
They got out and walked to the edge of the sea without speaking. Then they stood there.
''Don't worry/' she whispered at last. ''The water's warm."
And unself-conscioudy, she slipped off her clothing till it was all in a tiny pile at her feet.
He gazed at her beauty, silhouetted against the sea and sand.
"Come on, Bob/' she said. Again softly.
And now he felt strangely awkward, standing there . . . overdressed.
She stood motionless in the moonlight, as he began to remove his shirt, his shoes, his socks, his trousers. Everything.
"Let's go," she said, starting into the sea. He followed her, letting the gentle waves splash over him.
All the time he was in the water, and especially when she splashed him playfully, he wondered what would happen next. And yet he knew. It was inevitable now. He was swimming in a starlit sea, thousands of miles from all his values. He knew very v/ell what would happen. And he wanted it.
She took his hand as they walked out of the water.
They stopped, the ocean still swirling around their ankles.
She put her face very close to his. They kissed.
"Come back to Sete with me, Bob/' she whispered, "no strings, just because tonight we both want to be with one another."
And he answered, "Yes."
JjOB HEARD FOOTSTEPS COMING TOWARD HTVI. He
looked up. It was Dr. Shelton, still dressed in surgical greens.
"Mr. Beckwith ..."
Bob stood up, his heart pounding.
"Yes?"
"I think we were in time/' said Shelton. "We'll know in about twelve hours, but Fm pretty optimistic. I suggest you go home and get a little rest."
"Can I see him?"
"I'm not sure if he's awake."
"I don't care. I just want to see him breathing."
"Go ahead then. But don't be upset. He looks a lot worse than he feels. He's in room 400."
Bob started to run.
He was out of breath when he reached the room. He opened the door as quietly as possible. Tlie little boy was propped up in bed, one tube in his nostril, another in his arm. His eyes were half closed.
"Jean-Claude?" he whispered. The boy turned his head.
"Bob," he said hoarsely, "it hurts when I speak."
"Tlien I'll talk and you just nod your head."
He walked slowly toward him.
192
'*You're gonna be okay," he said. ''You had a burst appendix. They had to operate, but it'll be okay. The doctor told me."
For a minute the boy just looked at him. Then, despite the discomfort, he spoke.
'Tm sorry. Bob, I cause you so much trouble."
"Shh. Don't be silly." He stroked his hair to reassure him. "And stop talking. Just nod your head."
He nodded his head.
''Good. Now go to sleep and Til see you in a few hours." He squeezed the boy's hand.
Jean-Claude looked at him and tried to smile.