Free Honor Thyself by Danielle Steel Page A

man five years younger than she was, and he had died a young man. Jason had come out for the funeral, and been very supportive to her and the kids. And now here she was, fighting for her own life, two years after Sean had died. Life was strange, and cruel at times. But she was still alive. She had a chance. It was the best news he could give their children. He dreaded telling them. “I'll be back later,” he whispered to Carole as he kissed her again, and the respirator breathed rhythmically for her. “I love you, Carole. You're going to get well,” he said with a decisive look, and then walked out of the room, fighting back tears. He had to be strong, for her, and for Anthony and Chloe. No matter how he felt.
    He left the hospital and walked to the nearby Gare d'Austerlitz in the pouring rain. He was soaked by the time he found a cab, and gave the driver the address of the Ritz. He looked as grim as he felt, as though he'd aged a hundred years in one day. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. No one did. And Carole least of all. She was a good woman, a nice person, a great mother, and had been a good wife to two men. One had left her for a tart and the other one had died. And now she was fighting for her life after a terrorist attack. If he had dared, he would have been furious with God, but he didn't dare. He needed His help too much now, and as they drove toward the Place Vendôme in the first arrondissement, he begged God for His help telling the kids. He couldn't even imagine saying the words to them. And then he remembered another call he had to make. He took out his cell phone and dialed L.A. It was almost midnight for Stevie, but he had promised he'd call as soon as he knew.
    Stevie answered on the first ring. She was wide awake and had been waiting for his call. It had taken too long, in her opinion, unless his plane had arrived late. She should have heard from him by then if it wasn't Carole. She had been sick with fear for the last hour, and her voice shook when she said hello.
    “It's her,” he said, without even identifying himself. She knew.
    “Oh my God … how bad is it?” Tears ran instantly down her cheeks.
    “It's not good. She's on a respirator, but she's alive. She's in a coma from a head injury. They didn't operate, but she had a hell of a blow. She's still in danger, and they don't know yet how damaged she may be.” He gave it to her straight. He was planning to be gentler with his kids, but Stevie had a right to know the whole truth, and she wouldn't have settled for less.
    “Shit. I'll get the first plane out.” But it was a ten-hour flight for her, at best, if the winds were good. And a nine-hour time difference against her. She wouldn't be there till the next day. “Have you told the kids?”
    “Not yet. I'm on my way to the hotel. There's nothing you can do. I don't know how much sense it makes for you to come.” She didn't need an assistant right now, and maybe never would again. But Stevie was her friend too. She had been a fixture in their family for years, and his children loved her too, as she loved them. “There's nothing any of us can do,” he said with a tremor in his own voice again.
    “I couldn't be anywhere else,” she told him simply.
    “Neither could I.” He gave her the name of the hospital and told her he'd see her in Paris tomorrow. “I'll get you a room at the Ritz.”
    “I can stay in Carole's room,” Stevie said practically. There was no point paying for another room. “Unless you are,” she said cautiously. She didn't want to intrude.
    “I booked my own, and I'll get rooms for the kids. I'll try to get them near Carole's room, so we can be close together. We've got some tough times ahead, and so does she. This is going to be a long road, if she recovers. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like if she doesn't.” He was surprised to realize that he wanted her to live, even if she was severely brain damaged. He didn't care if she was a