My father steps forward and takes his hand and says, "Robert, thank you for seeing us."
The sitting room is expensively furnished and there are no photographs of James anywhere, which I note.
Senator Hartley sits and my father sits. I sit and Senator Hartley looks at me and then at my father and then he leans back with his arms crossed and says, "You understand how this looked, Phillip. My son in a hospital bed. His name is all over the press. His photograph on every front page." He shakes his head. "I had people calling me asking what kind of family I was getting involved with."
"Robert, I completely understand your frustration and I want to assure you that?—"
"I pulled out of two fundraisers because of this," Senator Hartley continues, talking over my father, so I know whose meeting this is. "Two. Do you know what that costs me?"
"I do and I am deeply sorry and I take full responsibility for?—"
"Nathalie."
I look at him.
Senator Hartley leans forward and looks at me with the assessing eyes he had used the first time we met, the same calculation running behind them. "Your father tells me you haven't abandoned the engagement. That you want to proceed."
He doesn't care about the details of that day, just like my father. He just wants to cover his losses.
I clasp my hands in my lap and I look at him with the expression of a young woman very much in love and very much relieved to be given the chance to say so.
"I never wanted to leave it," I tell him, letting something soft and wounded into my voice. "I know how it looked and I know James was hurt. I will spend however long it takes making it right." I pause. "I love your son, Senator Hartley. I want to marry him. Nothing that happened changes that."
Senator Hartley looks at me for a long moment.
Then he laughs.
He sits back and he laughs and he reaches over and claps my father on the shoulder and says, "There it is. That's what I wanted to hear." He is already smiling, already recalculating, already moving forward toward the version of this that works for him. "Now we can get back to business."
I watch these two men look at each other with mutual relief.
I smile pleasantly at Senator Hartley.
"How is James?" I ask, tilting my head with manufactured worry. "I've been so concerned. I blame myself for not being there, for not protecting him from?—"
"He's in his room," Senator Hartley says, waving his hand with brisk affection. "Better shape than expected. But his legs might not work anytime soon. What a bother!"
"Could I see him?" I ask. "Please. I've been wanting to see him for weeks, I just didn't know if I was welcome."
Senator Hartley stands already, pleased, moving toward the door. "Dear child," he says warmly, "you have your whole life to take care of him."
* * *
James is in the largest bedroom at the end of the hall, propped up against pillows with both legs in casts from hip to ankle and he looks at me with angry eyes when I walk in.
His father and my father come in behind me and Senator Hartley says, "Look who came to see you, son."
James says nothing.
"Nathalie has been beside herself," my father adds, settling into the chair near the window. "She wanted to come sooner but we thought it best to give you time to recover."
I cross to the bed and I look down at James, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there, I should have been with you and instead I just?—"
"She wants to move forward," Senator Hartley says to James. "In fact." He looks at me. "Tell him what you told me."
I look at James.
"I want to get married," I say. "As soon as possible. I don't want to wait." I look from James to his father to my own father with wide earnest eyes. "We can get married in a month."
