Windmills of the Gods by Sidney Sheldon

“I guess I’ve been out of touch,” Mary said. She remembered what Stanton had said: The President ordered the buildup. “How long can you stay?” Mary asked.

“I’d love to stay forever, but we planned three days here and then we’re on our way back home.”

Douglas asked, “How are you getting along, Mary? I mean about—you know—Edward?”

“I’m getting better,” Mary said slowly. “I talk to him every night. Does that sound crazy?”

“Not really.”

“It’s still hell. But I try. I try.”

“Have you—er—met anyone?” Florence asked delicately.

Mary smiled. “As a matter of fact, maybe I have. You’ll meet him at dinner tonight.”

The Schiffers took to Dr. Louis Desforges immediately. They had heard that the French were aloof and snobbish, but Louis proved to be friendly and warm and outgoing. He and Douglas got into long discussions about medicine. It was one of Mary’s happiest evenings since she had come to Bucharest. For a brief time she felt safe and relaxed.

At eleven o’clock the Schiffers retired upstairs to the guest room that had been prepared for them. Mary was downstairs saying good night to Louis.

He said, “I like your friends very much. I hope I shall see them again.”

“They liked you too. They’re leaving for Kansas in a couple of days,” Mary said.

He studied her. “Mary—you’re not thinking of leaving?”

“No,” Mary said. “I’m staying.”

He smiled. “Good.” He hesitated, then said quietly, “I am going away to the mountains for the weekend. I would like it very much if you came with me.”

“Yes.”

It was as simple as that.

She lay in the dark talking to Edward that night. Darling, I’ll always, always love you, but I mustn’t need you anymore. It’s time I started a new life. You’ll always be a part of that life, but there has to be someone else too. Louis isn’t you, but he’s Louis. He’s strong, and he’s good, and he’s brave. That’s as close as I can come to having you. Please understand, Edward. Please…

She sat up in bed and turned on the bedside light. She stared at her wedding ring for a long time, then she slowly slipped it off her finger.

It was a circle that symbolized an ending, and a beginning.

Mary took the Schiffers on a whirlwind tour of Bucharest, and saw to it that their days were filled. The three days passed too quickly, and when the Schiffers left, Mary felt a sharp pang of loneliness, a sense of being totally isolated from her roots, adrift once again in an alien and dangerous land.

Mary was having her usual morning coffee with Mike Slade, discussing the day’s agenda.

When they finished, Mike said, “I’ve been hearing rumors.”

Mary had heard them too. “About Ionescu and his new mistress? He seems to—”

“About you.”

She felt herself stiffen. “Really? What kind of rumors?”

“It seems that you’re seeing a lot of Dr. Louis Desforges.”

Mary felt a flare of anger. “Who I see is no one’s business.”

“I beg to differ with you, Madam Ambassador. It’s the business of everyone in the embassy. We have a strict rule against getting involved with foreigners, and the doctor is a foreigner. He also happens to be an enemy agent.”

Mary was almost too stunned to speak. “That’s absurd!” she sputtered. “What do you know about Dr. Desforges?”

“Think about how you met him,” Mike Slade suggested. “The damsel in distress and the knight in shining armor. That’s the oldest trick in the world. I’ve used it myself.”

“I don’t give a damn what you’ve done and what you haven’t done,” Mary retorted. “He’s worth a dozen of you. He fought against terrorists in Algeria, and they murdered his wife and children.”

Mike said mildly, “That’s interesting. I’ve been examining his dossier. Your doctor never had a wife or children.”

25

They stopped for lunch at Timi§oara, on their way up to the Carpathian Mountains. The inn was called Hunter’s Friday, and was decorated in the period atmosphere of a medieval wine cellar.

“The specialty of the house is game,” Louis told Mary. “I would suggest the venison.”

“Fine.” She had never eaten venison. It was delicious.

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