Power of a Woman (33 page)

“She’s going to make it, Stevie,” Bruce replied quickly. “I feel it in my bones. Remember, it has been only a week since she was shot. The fact that she’s been out of intensive care since Sunday is very reassuring to me. What does Mr. Longdon say?”

“That she’s basically doing all right, holding her own. He’s optimistic.”

Derek remarked, “Valentin Longdon has said right from the beginning that it might take ten days, perhaps even two weeks, for Chloe to come out of the coma.” Derek walked to the radio and 368 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

turned it on. “Let’s have some music. Hopefully, that might stimulate her. Sounds
are
important. She needs sounds all around her. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by some of my doctor friends.”

“It’s the swelling in the brain,” Stevie murmured, glancing at Bruce. “That has to go down completely.”

“Yes, so you told me before.” Bending over the bed, he touched Chloe’s shoulder, then sat down in a chair near her. Addressing Derek, he said, “How about a little Shakespeare, old chap? You’re always so thrilling to listen to…it’s that marvelous voice of yours. You could read the London telephone direct-ory to me and hold me spellbound.”

Derek chuckled. “Thanks for those kind words, Bruce. I just spouted a bit of Byron, so let me put my thinking cap on and come up with something else. Do you have any favorites?”

Bruce nodded. “Many. But mostly the Shakespearean tragedies, and I’m not sure they would be appropriate.”

“Why not recite another sonnet,” Stevie murmured. “They’re gentle enough. Anyway, it’s the sound of
your voice
that matters, not what you’re saying. You know she’s your biggest fan.”

Later that afternoon, Gideon and Miles arrived at the hospital, eager to take over from their mother, Derek, and Bruce. They wanted to give their Power of a Woman / 369

mother a respite from her vigil; they were also concerned about their sister, wished to be close to her.

The twins had just driven up from London, where they had been attending Tamara’s funeral on the afternoon before. Taking Stevie to one side, Miles gave his mother a few details about the funeral, reassured her that Nigel was holding up despite the strain and his deep sorrow, and that her grandchildren were all right.

Stevie suddenly found herself weeping again for Tamara. Her death was a waste, senseless. She quickly took control of her emotions; her sole aim at the moment was to try and help Chloe, and she had to be very strong. She dared not give in to her feelings about anything.

It was Miles who said finally, “Come on, Ma, go out for a walk, take a break. You need some air, I’m sure of that. It’ll do you good, even if you just walk around the city.”

“And you ought to eat something,” Derek pointed out.

“Let us go to the Queen’s for tea,” Bruce suggested, looking at Derek. “It’ll do
you
good, old chap.

You’ve been cooped up here all day, too.”

“That’s kind of you, Bruce, but I can’t join you for tea, I’m afraid. I’m aiming to catch the five o’clock Pullman back to London. I have a meeting tomorrow with the producers who are doing the revival of
The Lion in Winter
, and I must be there.”

Turning to Stevie, he explained, “Your mother’s 370 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

going to come up here tomorrow to be with you, love.”

“Oh, why don’t you spend the weekend in London together!” Stevie exclaimed. “I’m all right, really I am, Derek. Bruce is here, and the twins; I’ll be fine.

Certainly I’m well looked after.”

“And Lenore’s coming up tonight,” Gideon announced.

“That’s a nice thought, Stevie,” Derek murmured.

“But I don’t think Blair will agree to it. She wants to be here with you and Chloe. But then, you know that. Shall we go? Shall we head back to the Queen’s? I’ve got to finish packing my overnight bag.”

Stevie became conscious of Bruce’s eyes resting on her, and she put down her teacup and said, “You’re staring at me, Bruce. Do I have a smudge on my face? Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

He shook his head, but continued to look at her thoughtfully, frowning slightly. At last he said,

“Stevie…there’s something I want to talk to you about—” He came to a stop, glanced away for a moment, and there was hesitation, even a kind of diffidence, in his manner.

“Bruce, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Almost nineteen years ago, something happened….” He coughed behind his hand. “I’ve never had the courage to talk to you about it before, Power of a Woman / 371

although sometimes I’ve wanted to do so. I felt it was better to leave certain things unsaid…. But lately I’ve had the need to broach it to you.”

Stevie stiffened, sat rigidly in the chair without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, bent closer to her, and said in a low tone, “She
is
my daughter, isn’t she?

Chloe is mine?”

Not a muscle moved on Stevie’s face, and her eyes were unblinking. She simply stared at Bruce. And she did not answer him.

Bruce went on swiftly, in the same low, intense voice. “What I did was unthinkable, Stevie, so very, very wrong. I don’t know what came over me that time we were in Amsterdam, buying diamonds. I’ve never been able to forgive myself. Or forget it. I’ve been haunted and troubled for years. I behaved in the most unconscionable manner, and there’s no excuse for my behavior. To take advantage of your…situation…vulnerability…to force myself on you that night…”

You mean rape me, don’t you, Bruce, Stevie thought. Because that’s what you did, you raped me. She did not say this. In fact, she did not speak at all.

Puzzled by her silence, Bruce said in a whisper,

“I’ve loved her so much. Always. My Chloe. My lovely daughter.”

“She is not your daughter, Bruce,” Stevie said in a clear, firm voice.

372 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

Bruce gaped at her, his eyes suddenly filling with shock and disbelief. “But she is. She must be! I figured it all out. The timing, the dates. I thought she was probably born a little premature.”

“No, Bruce, she wasn’t. I was already pregnant by about twelve weeks when you forced me to…forced your attentions on me. And Chloe was actually born late.
She was late by two weeks
. I conceived Chloe in October of 1977, and she was born in July of 1978. My doctor confirmed my pregnancy of two months at the beginning of December. You and I were in Amsterdam a month later, in January of 1978. She’s not yours. There’s not even a question about it.”

“I am not Chloe’s father?” he said in a faltering voice that sounded unexpectedly anguished.

“No, you’re not. It never occurred to me that you believed you were. I thought you were nice to Chloe and treated her so beautifully because you were grateful to me for running the business.”

Bruce shook his head wonderingly. “I’ve hardly been able to live with myself all these years. There were even times when I thought I couldn’t look you in the eye. I’ve been so dreadfully ashamed of myself. To do that to you…my son’s widow…” His voice finally broke and he averted his head, stared off into the distance. His aristocratic face was bereft, etched with dismay and a terrible regret.

Stevie did not know what to say to him. Certainly she was not prepared to comfort him.

Power of a Woman / 373

She had never really forgotten that dreadful night at the hotel in Amsterdam. Or her anger and fear when Bruce had forced himself on her. Why mince words? she thought suddenly. He
raped
me; that is the only word for it.

Growing aware that her father-in-law was emotionally upset, and looked as if he were about to break down at any moment, she touched his arm, let her hand rest on it.

He covered her hand with his and brought his gaze back to meet hers. “I’ve loved you for years, Stevie. I could not say anything to you about that either. I did not dare.”

“Is that why you allowed me such freedom with the business? Gave me such leeway? Let me open the Fifth Avenue store? Because you thought you were Chloe’s father?”

“No. Not at all. I gave you power in the company because you deserved it. I trusted you, and I had immense belief in you and in your enormous ability.”

He sighed heavily. “But I also cared for you.” There was another momentary pause, then Bruce continued in a low voice. “When I first met you I disliked you most fervently, thought you were so wrong for my son and for this family. How mistaken I was, Stevie.

You have been so
right
for this family, after all.

You’ve become more of a Jardine than even I am, if the truth be known. As the years have gone by, you have truly earned my respect and my devotion.

And my love. I care about you and your well-being.”

He looked at her

374 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

intently, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you know what a remarkable woman you are. Formidable, in so many ways.”

Stevie sat back in the chair. She was startled by the things he had just said, and at a loss for words.

She really did not know how to respond.

At long last, Bruce broke the silence. “Who
is
Chloe’s father?” he asked, searching her face, longing to know the truth.

“I’m not going to tell you that.” She stared him down, her gray-green eyes cool, unflinching.

Bruce took a deep breath. “You never forgave me for Amsterdam, did you?” Before she could answer, he exclaimed, “Why do I ask you that? It’s a foolish question. How
could
you forgive me?”

“I didn’t, not in the beginning,” she responded.

“But later on I did forgive you, although I’ve never
really
forgotten what happened. But, somehow, I managed to bury it so deep, it’s never surfaced again. At least, not properly. I suppose I didn’t want to deal with it. Or with you either. We had to work together. My sons are your grandchildren, your heirs. I had to find a way to operate around you.

Self-preservation
, Bruce, that was it really. Everybody is driven by self-interest, and I’m sure I’m no different. I think I deep-sixed the memory of Amsterdam in order to function in the family, and at Jardine’s.”

“I’m so very sorry, Stevie. Will you accept my apology now, after all these years?”

“Yes, I will. I do.” She attempted a smile with-Power of a Woman / 375

out much success. In a quiet voice, she continued.

“You’ve been wonderful to Chloe, and I do want to thank you for that.”

“I believed her to be my daughter. I made her mine in my head and my heart. And in many ways, she
is
mine, actually. I’ve loved her far too much, do love her very much, so that it would be impossible for me to stop loving her now. She is a part of my life, part of me, part of my soul.”

Stevie couldn’t help being touched by his words.

After a moment, she acknowledged, “I know what she means to you, Bruce.”

“I thought she was a Jardine by blood, and so I treated her as a Jardine,” he said. “And she became one. A Jardine she will always be, Stevie. Nothing can alter that now.”

Stevie sat alone in Chloe’s hospital room, holding her hand, staring at her daughter’s face, studying it closely. She knew she had done a most terrible thing.

She had denied two people the knowledge of each other. Chloe’s father. And, more important, Chloe herself.

How Chloe had longed to know who he was.

Only a few months ago, at Thanksgiving, she had been fussing about it, discussing it with Derek and Blair, and anyone else who would listen. How badly her daughter had
needed
to know who John Lane was.

376 / Barbara Taylor Bradford

I should have told her the truth then, Stevie thought. She has every right to know about him.

Everything there is to know. I have been so wrong.

How could I have done such an awful thing? Suddenly, she was awash with guilt, and she knew she would have to live with that for many months to come, perhaps longer.

She sat there for a long time, holding her daughter’s hand, willing her to come out of the coma, willing her to live, willing her to flutter an eyelash or move a finger.
Anything
…just so long as there was a sign, however tiny, that Chloe’s condition was changing, improving.

Imperceptibly, Stevie felt a sudden twitching of Chloe’s fingers in hers. She looked down at her daughter’s hand swiftly, but it lay there inert and still. She had only imagined that it moved.

Leaning back against the chair, Stevie closed her eyes. Silently she prayed:
Oh, God, please let her get
better. Please let my beloved child come out of this.

Let her be whole and well again
.

Stevie prayed for a long time. And then she made a silent promise to Chloe. She vowed to her daughter that she would tell her the truth about the man who had given her life. She owed her that. Yes, she would finally tell her who her father really was.

The following morning when Stevie returned to the Brotherton Wing with Miles, the neurosurgeon, Valentin Longdon, was waiting for them.

Power of a Woman / 377

The moment she saw the smile on his face, Stevie knew that the news was good.

“Chloe’s come out of the coma!” she exclaimed, her eyes riveted on his face.

“Not exactly,” Valentin Longdon answered. “But the nurses tell me there’s been some movement. In fact, she’s had a restless hour, moving around in the bed, and she has also moved the fingers of her left hand.”

“I thought she did yesterday,” Stevie told him,

“but when I looked at her hand, it was still
lifeless
.

I thought I’d imagined it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Mrs. Jardine. I was just about to tell you that when I went in to see her a few minutes ago, she opened her eyes.”

“Oh, thank God for that! And thank you, Mr.

Longdon, for all that you’ve done for my daughter.”

“Let’s go in and see her.” The neurosurgeon opened the door, showed Stevie inside.

When Stevie reached the bed she immediately swung around and stared at the doctor. “Is she sleeping? Or has she fallen into the coma again?”

she asked anxiously.