Sunset in St. Tropez Read Online Free PDF Page B

mourned the little girl for years, and who still talked about her from time to time. Anne had put it behind her, and instead of grieving for what she had lost, she was satisfied with what she had. But knowing how deeply Robert felt things, she was careful with his emotions, and unfailingly kind. He was the sort of person you wanted to shield from things that hurt him. Anne always seemed just a little better able than he was to take the blows that life dealt.
    “What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked as she slipped into bed beside him in a blue flannel nightgown. She was a handsome woman, not beautiful, but distinguished, elegant, and fine. And in some ways, he thought her even more attractive than he had when they were first married. She had the kind of looks that improved with time. She had worn well as his lifetime companion.
    “Tomorrow, I want to sleep late, and read the paper,” she answered with a yawn. “Do you want to go to a movie tomorrow afternoon?” They liked going to the movies, usually foreign films, or serious ones, which more often than not made Robert cry. When they were younger, she used to tease him about it. Anne never cried in movies. But she loved his tenderness and soft heart.
    “That sounds like fun.” They had a good time together, they enjoyed the same people, the same music and books, most of the same things, even more so now than in their early years. In the beginning, there had been more differences between them, but Robert had shared so much with her that over time, their tastes had merged, and their differences disappeared. What they shared now was intensely comfortable, like a huge feather bed into which they sank, hand in hand, with total ease.
    “I"m glad Pascale found that house,” Anne said as she drifted off to sleep, cuddled up to him. “I think next summer is really going to be fun.”
    “I can't wait to spend some time sailing with you,” he said, as he pulled her close to him. He had felt amorous toward her earlier that night, while they got dressed to go to the Donnallys", but she was so tired now, it would have seemed unfair to try and make love to her. She worked too hard, and pushed herself too much. He made a mental note to lecture her about it the next day, he hadn't seen her this tired in years. And as he held her in his arms, she fell asleep almost instantly, and a few minutes later, he was asleep too, snoring softly.
    It was four o"clock in the morning when he woke up, and heard Anne in the bathroom, she was coughing, and it sounded as though she was throwing up. He could see the light under the bathroom door, and he waited a few minutes to see if she came back to bed. But ten minutes later, there was no sound, and she still hadn't emerged from the bathroom. He got up finally, and knocked on the door, but she didn't answer.
    “Anne, are you okay?” He was waiting to hear her say that she was fine and for him to go back to bed, but there was no sound from within. “Anne? Sweetheart … are you sick?” The dinner Pascale had prepared had been delicious, but heavy and rich. He waited another minute or two, and then gently turned the knob and peeked in, and what he saw was his wife, lying on the floor, her hair disheveled, her nightgown askew. There was evidence that she'd been vomiting, she was unconscious, and her face was gray, her lips almost blue. The sight of her terrified him. “Oh my God … oh my God …” He checked her pulse, and he could still feel it, but he couldn't see her breathe. He wasn't sure whether to try to revive her, or call 911. And in the end, he ran for his cellular phone, returned to Anne rapidly, and called from the bathroom. He had tried to shake her, call her name, but Anne showed no sign of regaining consciousness, and Robert could see that her lips were turning a deep blue. The 911 operator was already on the phone by then, and he gave his name and address and told them his wife was unconscious and barely breathing.
    “Did