Chapter 14

14

T here was the man, who went by the name of Cyril, standing by the stone wall that overlooked the Seine. The same scene, but this time it was a different wall, a different part of the Seine. He waited in the bright sunlight, and having finished his cigarette, tossed it below onto the cobblestone walkway that directly bordered the river.

Cyril scanned the area impatiently, and at this cue, Jean didn’t waste any time jogging across the street to join him. “You kept me waiting,” was all the man said.

“I’m sorry. There was a delay in the train schedule. So do you have news on the buyer?”

“Yes, I’m in touch with him. Come, let’s walk.” Cyril surged forward without waiting to see if Jean followed. “The buyer’s a Russian, and he’ll be ready to receive the package when his cargo ship has been reloaded and is ready to return. That’s going to be some time towards the beginning of April. I’ve got the driver in place, but you need to let me know now if you’re sure of your end of the deal.”

“I’m getting there, and I’ll be ready by then,” Jean reassured him. “I’m working on getting through the point of entry so I can come and go without detection. Once I’m through, all that’ll be left is for me to choose the right moment when no one’s around.”

“The place is more fully guarded than it was twenty years ago,” Cyril warned. “I hope you have a better plan than breaking a window or picking a lock. If that were the case, I’d use one of my own men.”

Gaining confidence, Jean shook his head. “It’s all about relationships, and I have two in place that’ll allow me to gain access when I need it.”

Cyril dodged sometourists and walked back next to Jean. “I’ll need to have more specific details before long to make sure there aren’t any screw-ups.”

“As soon as I get a few more items in place—namely figuring out when it’s going to happen—I’ll let you know everything.”

“I’m counting on that.” Cyril nodded in Jean’s direction before taking abrupt leave of him again. This time Jean was less disconcerted by the encounter. It didn’t matter how much more cunning or dangerous Cyril was. Jean knew he had something Cyril did not—the map.

* * *

Chastity fluttered around the hospital room, picking dead leaves off the plant that had been brought in by Maude, tucking the teddy bear sent by her parents next to her son’s arm, only to remove it and put it back next to the window where he would see it when he opened his eyes. She walked back to his side and sat, kissing his cheek with great care and taking hold of his hand.

“Hi, baby,” she murmured. “Now that the room’s in order, shall we continue with our story of Harry Potter?”

She reached over and grabbed her reading glasses mechanically, but she didn’t pull the book out right away. In the week that her son had been in a coma, she hadn’t left his side except to shower. She knew that French law permitted her to extend her paid leave of absence because her son was gravely injured, but she was beginning to accept that her son might be in this state for some time. Then what would she do? She had no family here, and she couldn’t imagine ever leaving him to go back to work. If his coma were of long duration, she would have to—

Oh, I can’t think about that now.

Mr. de Brase—Docteur de Brase—had been in every day since the accident and, almost without realizing it, she had begun to look forward to his visits. He spared those few extra minutes after examining Thomas to provide subtle reassurance. He dropped comments like how the body used the coma to allow itself to heal, and it was by no means a sign he wouldn't wake up. Or he would tell her of a case he handled a few years back where the child was hit in exactly the same way as Thomas, and how the end-result had been better than anyone had hoped. She would have been hard-put to explain exactly why, but her spirits always lifted by the time he left.

“Bonjour, Madame.” A handsome young man with a large smile walked into the room. He came over and shook her hand, speaking in perfect English. “I’m an intern in this hospital, and my name is Dr. Okonkwo. Docteur de Brase charged me with keeping a special eye on your son.” His broad smile caused her own to appear.

“Are you studying to be a neurosurgeon too then?”

“It’s my plan,” he replied. “This is my sub-internship so it’s not too late to decide on a different specialty, but if I can get a residency here, this is the field I would choose.”

“You’re not French,” Chastity observed.

“No, I’m Nigerian. I was studying in Cambridge with Docteur de Brase’s niece, and she made the introductions that allowed me to intern here.”

“Oh, that was kind of him to bring you in,” she said, politely. “You must be fluent in French then.”

“Yes. I went to the Lycée Fran?ais in Lagos.”

“I went to the Lycée Fran?ais in New York.” Chastity smiled. “I guess learning to be fluent in Frenchhas its uses after all, since we both ended up here.”

The intern went over to Thomas and checked the catheter and the stitches, making notes in the patient’s file. “Has he shown any movement that’s new?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He sometimes jerks suddenly, but he did that right from the beginning. The doctor said it’s not necessarily a sign of awareness.”

“That’s tr—” The intern was interrupted.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle.” The viscount strode into the room and clasped Chastity’s hand warmly, before shaking the intern’s. “Samuel.”

“So you were able to come earlier than expected,” the intern observed.

“Yes. My estate manager is quickly getting up to speed, and I’m able to extricate myself more easily these days.” Dr. de Brase smiled at Chastity as he said this. “So, you’ve been introduced to our intern then.”

“I have.”

“Has he reviewed your son’s progress with you?” Dr. de Brase caught her gaze, and Chastity felt her heart spark to life. She was able to breathe again when he lowered his eyes and studied the patient’s chart.

The intern spoke up. “We were just going through the exam. No new movement. His ICP is down to sixteen.” He turned to Chastity, “This is good news. It’s within the normal range.”

“So it was the right decision to avoid the craniotomy then?” She looked back and forth between the two of them, but it was Dr. de Brase who answered.

“It was a risk, but one worth taking. If his intra-cranial pressure had gone higher than twenty at any point, we would have rushed him into emergency surgery. I’m glad it didn’t because the surgery can engender other issues, even if it can also save a patient’s life. All in all, I’d say that, given the circumstances, we had the best possible outcome. Now we need to keep waiting. Patiently.” He turned to the intern.

“Samuel have you done rounds with Docteur Bellamy yet?”

“Yes I have, but I wanted to come and see Thomas as you suggested.”

“I’m glad you did.” Dr. de Brase turned to Chastity. “I asked Samuel to start checking in on Thomas regularly to see how he’s doing. That way he can keep me in the loop. I’ll be off after this week because the in-house doctor is returning from his conference.” He added, “I’ll still come in to check on Thomas, though."

She smiled softly at him, touched. “Thank you.”

Dr. de Brase gestured the intern towards the door. “Shall we?” The intern nodded his assent and gave his hand to Chastity. “I’ll come as often as I can. Have me paged if you need anything, or if you want to reach Docteur de Brase directly. I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

As soon as they left, it felt as if the room was closing in. Chastity walked over to the window and looked out over the parking lot. The gray winter weather made it seem late afternoon rather than mid-morning. She didn’t dare call and ask, but she hoped Maude, or even Elizabeth, would come and visit her. She was so lonely. Completely forgetting her plans to read to Thomas, she stared forlornly out the window and watched as tiny snowflakes began to fall. Tiny desolate snowflakes that tainted an icy world with bleakness.

It was the scent of freshly ground coffee that hit her first. Chastity spun around, brushing the tears that had pooled in her eyes, but had not fallen. Dr. de Brase had returned quietly, carrying two porcelain cups, and he gave a tentative smile. “The coffee here is awful, but we have a machine in the back that’s better.” And in timing that could not have been more auspicious,as soon as the words left his mouth, the sun pierced a hole through the clouds and brightened the room.

Chastity smiled up at him even as tears threatened to form again from this sweet gesture. She almost didn’t trust herself to speak, but managed a “thank you.” After he handed her a coffee, he stood awkwardly with his own cup until she gathered her wits and asked him to sit down.

“I wasn’t sure if you took sugar,” he said.

“Actually, I usually take sugar and milk.” She gave a crooked grin. “Sacrilegefor a French person,I know. The black coffee is actually better than the café au lait in the machine here, so I’m getting accustomed to it without milk. And even sometimes without sugar, but yes, I usually take it.” Stop rambling , she scolded herself, and sat.

The silence was not uncomfortable as each one sipped the coffee. Dr. de Brase stretched his legs forward and examined his shoes.

“Tell me how you came to be a neurosurgeon.” Her voice squeaked on the last word, which made her blush. She had forgotten how to be sociable. Dr. de Brase had nothing to set his cup on, and was sitting in a folding chair, but he managed to look elegant.

“My wife—she died when she was young—was interested in medicine from a young age. We sort of grew up together. Went to the same bilingual school in St Germain-en-Laye, and even after my family moved to Maisons-Laffitte, I continued to go there. We were best friends before we even thought about a romantic relationship. She was definitely the one who influenced meto choose medicine.

“She was smart, you see. And I have a competitive nature. If she was going to do something, I was going to do it better.” He chuckled— “although I rarely succeeded. She was completely focused on medicine and wanted to work in South America in one of the poorer communities. At the time, I thought it was what I wanted to do as well. But—”

Dr. de Brase stood and reached over to set his cup on the windowsill before resuming his place. “First, my father died, and I inherited the chateau when I was still in university. Then Miriam and I married young, and she got pregnant with Louis while we were medical residents. She died as a result of a complication from childbirth, so I continued in the medical field alone."

Chastity scanned his face compassionately. “What happened to Louis while you finished studying and started working?”

“My sister brought my niece over to spend time with Louis, and I had a live-in nanny, of course. I spent every minute that I wasn’t working with him.”

Chastity nodded as she processed this. “How did you choose neurosurgery?”

The doctor inhaled, then gave a shrug. “Part of it was chance. I happened to secure an internship in the field. But I was drawn to neurosurgery—probably because my father died of a stroke. Although…if we’re going with that reasoning, I should be in obstetrics to save future husbands from becoming widowers.” He laughed without humor. “The psychologists would be able to explain it all, I’m sure.”

“It does seem logical enough,” Chastity replied in a low tone. “I mean, that you would go into medicine. You’re saving lives no matter what field you’ve chosen.” She finished the last of her coffee and held the cup in her lap. “I just wanted to say thank you—for treating Thomas so gently, and for taking the time to explain things to me. I think that somehow…it has kept the panic at bay. It kept me from going over the edge.” She didn't dare say anything else, but smiled at himthrough the lump in her throat.

Dr. de Brase nodded in response and the ensuing silence gave her some peace that allowed the crippling emotions to ebb away.

After the doctor had gathered the espresso cups with a promise to see her the next day, she went back over tothe window and peered out. The sun had disappeared again, but the weather seemed less sinister. The snowflakes fellplayfully, darting suddenlyto oneside in a gust of wind. Chastity drew in a deep breath, and with it—strength.

She turned to her son andfelt hopeful for the first time, even though there had beenno change in his condition. “Tommy.” She kissed his nose playfully.“Let’s read The Chamber of Secrets.”