“She called you to tell you this?”
Grace laughed. “I know. As if we could pick up where we left off. That’s actually what she said to me. ‘Can’t we be sisters again?’ Connie and Mike moved to Europe, so I guess she feels alone. Lenny said something similar actually, in the garden at Le Cocon. He thought I was going to stay there with him and John. That the three of us could hide out in Madagascar together and live happily ever after. ‘Like old times,’ that’s what he said.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mitch’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. I shot him.” Grace grinned, and Mitch remembered everything he loved about her. She thinks she’s dead inside but she’s not. She’s just hibernating.
Grace stood up and moved toward the window. Mitch watched her, her graceful dancer’s walk, the fluid ballet of her limbs. While he was the cop and she was the fugitive, he’d forced himself to keep a lid on his feelings. Now that it was all over, he could no longer hold them back. Longing hit him like a punch to the stomach.
I love her.
I want her.
I can make her happy.
“What?” Grace turned around and stared at him accusingly.
Mitch blushed. Had he spoken aloud? He must have. He propped himself up higher on the pillows. “I’m in love with you, Grace. I’m sorry if that complicates things. But I am.”
Grace’s face softened. She was fond of Mitch, after all. And he had risked his life to try to save hers. There was no reason to be angry with him. But love? No. She couldn’t love again. Not after Lenny. Love was a fantasy. It didn’t exist.
Mitch said, “I think we should get married.”
Grace laughed out loud. “Married?”
“Yes. Why not?”
Why not? Grace thought about Lenny. About their beautiful wedding on Nantucket, her happiness as a young bride, her hopes and dreams. They hadn’t just been crushed. They’d been incinerated, annihilated, scorched to dust and ashes along with the trusting, happy girl she had once been.
By nightfall, Lenny would be dead.
Grace could no more marry again than fly to the moon.
“I will never get married again, Mitch. Never.”
Hearing her say the words, Mitch knew she meant them.
“I’m leaving.”
Mitch felt his stomach lurch. Panic gripped him. “Leaving? What do you mean leaving? Leaving where? Leaving the room?”
“Leaving the country.”
“No you’re not. You can’t!”
“I have to.”
“But why? Where would you go?”
Leaning forward, Grace kissed him, just once, on the lips. It was a short kiss, not sexual, but loving, almost maternal. It made Mitch want to cry.
“I don’t know where I’ll go. Somewhere quiet and remote. Somewhere where I can live simply and in peace.”
“This is bullshit. You can live simply with me.” He took her face in his hands, willing her to listen to him, to love him, to let herself believe he loved her. “I can do simple. You want simple, you should see my apartment. It’s so simple they repossessed my furniture.”
Despite herself, Grace smiled. It was a tiny chink in her armor. Mitch jumped on it.
“You like that? Hell, if simple’s what you’re into, I’m your guy. I can even do flat broke. Cold Domino’s pizza for breakfast? You got it. With a little more effort I can probably get them to cut off the electricity. We could sit in the dark under a blanket and hum.”
“Stop it.” Grace giggled.
Mitch brought her hand to his lips, kissing each of her fingers in turn. “I tell you what. I’ll forget about marriage if you forget about leaving the country. Just…say you’ll have dinner with me when they let me out of here.”
Grace hesitated.
“C’mon! One lousy dinner. You owe me that much at least.”
It was true. She did owe him.
“All right. One dinner. But I can’t promise you anything.”
FORTY
LENNY BROOKSTEIN LOOKED AT THE STRAPS on the bed and felt his insides liquefy with fear. He told himself it wasn’t death that frightened him. It was dying like this, on someone else’s terms. But now that he was actually here, he realized what a self-delusion that was. I don’t want to die. I want to live.
“No!” He panicked, trying to back out of the room. “I…I can’t do it! Help me!”
Strong, young male hands restrained him. “Easy.”
He forced himself to calm down. The room was clean and white and sanitized, like a hospital. The three men inside it looked like doctors, with their blue scrubs and face masks and their clear plastic gloves. But they weren’t here to heal him.
After all the years of struggle, in the end it had come to this. He would have appealed his sentence had there been even the slimmest hope of success, but Lenny was shrewd enough to know that there wasn’t and too proud to play a game he could not win. Besides, what were ten more years of life in jail worth to him? He’d already lost ten pounds and he’d only been here a matter of weeks. You wouldn’t give the food at Super Max to a dog.
Two of the doctors started to help him up onto the gurney but he shook them off angrily.
“I’ll do it.”
He lay down on the gurney. The doctors fastened the straps. Lenny was embarrassed to find his legs were shaking. He had once controlled a business empire worth more than the gross national product of some countries. Now he was not even master of his own body.
He turned his head and saw the prison rabbi standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. “What’s he doing here? I said I didn’t want anyone.”
The rabbi stepped forward. “They’re going to sedate you in a moment, Lenny. I wanted to give you a chance to pray with me. Or if there’s anything you feel you’d like to say?”
“No.”
“It’s not too late to repent of your sins. The Lord’s forgiveness is infinite.”
Lenny closed his eyes. “I have nothing to say.”
He felt the sharp prick of the IV in his arm. For a second the terror welled up again. He wanted to vomit, but his stomach was empty. His bowels, too, thank God. A few seconds later, the sedatives began to do their work. Lenny felt his heart rate slow, and a warm, sleepy feeling creep over him.
He thought about his mother. She was wearing the one pretty dress she owned, a floral, Liberty print, and she was dancing around the kitchen, and his father was drunk again and yelling at her, “Rachel, get in here!” and then he staggered in and hit his mother and Lenny wanted to kill him…
He thought about the Quorum Ball. It was 1998 and he was untouchable, a god, watching Wall Street’s lesser mortals compete with one another just to be near him, to touch his clothes or hear him speak. He wished his mother could have been there…
He thought about Grace, her trusting, innocent face, her glorious, naked body that had once been his delight. She was talking to him, singing in that sweet child’s voice of hers: I don’t want children, Lenny. I’m so happy as we are. There’s nothing missing, and he opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, and there was nothing missing for him either, but then her face changed and she was old and sad and angry and she was pointing a gun at him, not just pointing but firing, over and over and over, bang, bang, bang, and John Merrivale was screaming NO! but the shots kept coming…
He was on the boat, exhausted, the axe still in his hand. He tried to stand but he couldn’t; he was slipping everywhere. The deck was slick with blood and water from the storm and the boat was lurching, rocking wildly, and he was sure he was going to go overboard. And he looked up and there was the chopper, fighting against the wind like a giant insect, and Graydon lowered the rope and he was climbing, hanging on for dear life, pulling himself up, up into the heavens, and Graydon was gone but his mother was there again, Come on, Len, you can do it, darling. You can do anything you want to… and he cried out, “I’m coming, Ma! I’m coming! Wait for me!” and her arms were around him and he had never felt happier in his life.
THE RABBI LOOKED AT THE DOCTORS. “Is that it?”
“That’s it,” said one. “He’s gone.”
“Not fair, is it?” said another. “For a heartless butcher like him to die with a smile on his face? He should have suffered.”
The rabbi did not reply, but walked sadly away.
EPILOGUE
GRACE WALKED OUT OF THE HOSPITAL and down the street. New York looked its most beautiful in the spring sunshine, as vibrant and alive as she had ever known it. The streets were thronged with people, rushing about the business of life as if it mattered. It was at once familiar and strange, like walking through a dream that she had had many times before.