by Amii Lorin
Struck speechless by the swiftness of his attack, Vichy stood motionless, her spine rigid with apprehension and the beginnings of a fury of her own. Bette! It had to have been Bette. When she didn't respond, he moved to stand in front of her, hands on his slim, jean-clad hips, his eyes blazing with red sparks, his expression grim.
"Answer me, damn you," he ordered between teeth clenched in rage.
"Yes." Vichy spat the admission at him. "Yes, I'm pregnant… so what?" Her question held a degree of bravado she was far from feeling.
"So what?" he repeated incredulously. "So what?" His lips twisted in an ugly way. "So when were you planning to tell me?"
"You're assuming it's yours?" she retorted, with hard-fought-for coolness. The look that came over Ben's face turned Vichy's blood to ice water.
"Are you looking to get belted?" he snorted. "You know damned well it's mine. Who else could have fathered it?"
"Mark Hartman." The moment his name passed her lips Vichy regretted uttering it. It wasn't fair of her to even verbally involve Mark in this mess. The impact of that name on the man standing in front of her made her doubly sorry she'd mentioned it.
"You are looking to get belted," he threatened softly. "Don't push it, Vich. I'm not in the mood to be hassled." He drew a long, calming breath, then said flatly, "We'll get married as soon as possible."
"No!" Vichy exclaimed. "We will not."
"What the hell do you mean, we will not?" Ben rapped sharply.
"Exactly what I say," Vichy retorted, every bit as sharply. "I won't marry you, Ben."
"I'm good enough to go to bed with, but not good enough to marry? Is that it?" Ben nearly shouted, his tone sounding strangely hurt as well as angry.
His response, so traditionally feminine, should have been funny; Vichy wasn't laughing. In fact, she was very close to tears.
"That's it," she concurred over the constriction in her throat. "Now, if that's all you wanted to see me about, I'll be going." She turned, only to have her arm grasped and her body spun back to him.
Although it hardly seemed possible, Ben looked more furious than before. "You're not going anywhere," he grated. "At least not until we settle this."
"There's nothing to settle," Vichy cried, attempting unsuccessfully to pull her arm from his grasp. "I'm not going to marry you."
His fingers tightened, yet not enough to cause pain through the heavy material of her coat. "And what about the child?" he demanded.
"It's mine. I'll take care of it." Again Vichy gave a sharp tug of her arm. Again she was unable to free herself. "I want nothing from you."
"You already have something from me," Ben corrected her roughly. "And it is as much mine as it is yours, and I want it."
Vichy went numb with a sudden premonition. "What do you mean, you want it?" she asked through lips that had gone bone dry.
"Exactly what I say." Ben's smile closed her throat with fear. His voice matched his smile for grimness. "If you won't share it with me through marriage, I'll take it from you."
"You can't do that!" Vichy cried.
His reply came hard and fast and scathingly. "Do you want to bet?"
"You would say that! No, I don't want to bet, simply because you'd lose."
"No, Vich, I would not." Ben's tone held total conviction.
"But… but you can't!" Vichy stared at him in confusion. "How could you? You don't mean you'd try and abduct…"
"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I mean I'd sue you for custody. I'd win too," Ben added arrogantly.
He was threatening to take her baby! Her baby! Fighting the panic building in her chest, Vichy managed a scornful snort. "I am, or will be, the baby's mother. No judge is going to award you custody if I countersue. And I will."
"And you'll lose," Ben said confidently. It was his very confidence that shook her. Before she could refute his statement, he began firing questions at her. "Have you any money? Are you employed? Do you have any solid prospects of employment? Can you provide a decent home and environment for the child?"
"I—I…" She got no further.
"The answer to every one of those questions is no, and you know it," he cut into her futile attempt at defense. "And every one of those questions would be asked in front of a judge. On the other hand, I can truthfully answer yes to all those questions and more." He smiled almost pityingly, then taunted, "Whom do you think the judge will favor?"
"There's my parents," Vichy cried desperately. "They'll help me."
"Oh, great," Ben scoffed. "You'd lay that kind of responsibility on them at their age." His voice dripped sarcasm. "How very thoughtful of you. You're all heart."
Without her conscious volition, Vichy's free hand moved to cover her still flat abdomen protectively.
"Ben, please, don't do this to me," she begged raggedly. Begging was all she had left. She knew that without any visible means of support, if he carried through with his threat to sue, she would very probably lose.
"How badly do you want this baby?" This time his tightening fingers caused pain in her arm. Refusing to let him see the pain she was feeling, both mentally and physically, Vichy swallowed the gasp that rose to her lips.
"Very badly," she admitted in a whispery voice. Her tautly held body swayed when he suddenly released her. "Very badly," she repeated hoarsely.
"Badly enough to marry me?" Stepping back, he fixed her with a narrow-eyed stare, closely watching for her reaction. "And sleep with me again?" he asked very softly. His close scrutiny was rewarded when her body jerked spasmodically.
"Ben, I told you—" Vichy began in renewed anger.
"There is no other way in hell you'll get to keep it," Ben cut her off brutally. "Hard as it may be for you to believe, I want this child every bit as badly as you do."
"But why?" she cried despairingly. "You have Chad."
Shrugging dismissively, Ben turned away from her. "You may as well take off your coat and sit down," he advised, lowering his long frame into one of the room's two molded plastic chairs. "It's beginning to look as if you're going to be here awhile."
Although Vichy did remove her coat awkwardly with trembling fingers, she did not sit down. She could not; she was far too tense, too nervous. Standing before him, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, Vichy tried again to change his mind by reminding him of his son.
"Ben, you do have Chad," she said with a minimum of control. "Let me have my child."
"All to yourself?" he asked with deceptive quiet. "I'd have no rights at all? No visitation privileges? No say in the way he, or she, is raised?" Ben's lips twisted. "No financial obligations?"
For one wild moment Vichy actually thought the idea of having no financial obligations might sway the argument in her favor, but then his expression told her that for one wild moment she wasn't thinking at all. Still, she had to try one more time. "You do have Chad," she reminded him frantically.
At first Vichy thought he would make no response at all. Then, to her dismay, she saw a muscle ripple in his jaw an instant before his face settled more harshly into place.
"Yes, I have Chad," Ben replied in a tone every bit as harsh as his expression. "And I am his father in every sense of the word but one." He paused, as if not quite sure if he wanted to go on. Then, in words clear and distinct, he said, "I am not Chad's natural father."
Vichy stared at him in sheer disbelief and confusion. Then she gave a nervous little laugh. "But that's ludicrous! You told me you got custody at the time of the divorce. If he wasn't yours, why would you have…"
"I didn't know." His tight voice sliced across hers. "My wife told me in the hall just outside of the room in which the verdict was rendered." He laughed unpleasantly. "She didn't want to be tied down, she said, so she let me believe Chad was mine, knowing I'd fight for him, fight for everything I was worth. She was absolutely right."
Vichy opened her mouth, but he forestalled her questions as though he'd read her mind.
"I had the blood work done. He is definitely n
ot mine." His eyes sharpened on her face. "I will have my own child, Vich. One way or another. It is entirely up to you."
Vichy felt trapped. Trapped in a motel with a man who was totally unbending. Restlessly, she paced the width of the room, once, twice, raking her mind for a way out. If she could get some money, she thought irrationally, she could disappear. If only… Josh! Josh would loan her some money, she knew it!
"May I have some time?" she asked warily, coming to a stop in front of him.
Ben was way ahead of her. "So you can run away again?" he laughed. "You have got to be kidding. I had enough trouble finding you this time. I don't care to repeat the exercise. I'm not your basic Sherlock Holmes type."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Vichy retorted. "You're more the basic gambler type."
"What the hell does that mean?" he snapped, backing her up abruptly as he stood up.
"It—it doesn't matter," Vichy answered vaguely, her mind working on something else. "How did you find me?" She put her thoughts into words.
"Elementary, my dear," Ben drawled. "First I went to the address you had given me," he paused to smile nastily. "The super told me you'd moved without leaving a forwarding address. That was two weeks ago." He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a way that left her in little doubt he was fighting the need to shake her, or worse. His stance was intimidating, and Vichy backed up a step. Her movement brought a parody of a smile to his face. "Last weekend I drove back down to Atlantic City." He went on calmly. Too calmly. "I went to the hotel management. They refused to divulge any information at all about you." His smile turned sardonic. "By the time I thought of talking to Ken, I wasn't even sure anymore why I wanted to find you."
"But Ken didn't have my parents' address!" Vichy exclaimed.
"But Ken did know the name of your agent," Ben shot back.
"Bernie!"
"Yes, Bernie," Ben retorted. "I flew back out to California yesterday. He didn't want to say anything at first but, after I'd convinced him we'd had a lovers' quarrel, he opened up. He told me all about how you had decided to quit the entertainment business and go home to stay. He also told me where home was." He bowed mockingly. "And here I am, at your service."
"You had no right—" Vichy began angrily.
"I thought I had every right," Ben again cut her off harshly. "I thought the time we'd spent together gave me that right, at least to an explanation of why you took off without a word the way you did."
Vichy stood perfectly still. It was very close, but then, it was always very close: that memory of Ben's laughing, and the woman so eager to kiss him. Shaking her head to dispel the scene, Vichy looked him straight in the eye and lied, "I—I just decided it was time to go home; the affair was over."
"Affair?" Ben's icy tone chilled her. "Affair?" he repeated cuttingly. "Well, sweetheart," he sneered the endearment, "I'm afraid the 'affair' is going to have to continue. That is, if you want to keep this child."
Everything about him told Vichy that argument would be futile, yet she had to try one more time. "Ben, please, don't go through with this. Can't you see how unfair it would be to the child? I mean, to bring a child into a home where there's dissension just would not be fair."
"And you're so sure there will be dissension?" Ben rapped. "We weren't doing too badly in that motel room, you know."
Not as long as I was foolishly believing that I was your only woman, Vichy cried silently. How could I bear to live with you, sleep with you, and wonder day and night how many others there are? Aloud, all she said was, "I don't want to get married. I've been that route. I didn't like the scenery."
"Damn it, Vich!" Ben exploded. "I didn't give you a rough time, he did. If we both work at it, we can make a go of it. We have to." He sighed, and for a fleeting second Vichy thought she saw a hint of sadness, or disappointment, flicker over his face. Then it was gone and his expression was harsher. "Besides which," he sighed again, "there's no other way. You want the child. I want the child. We will just have to share it… legally."
Still Vichy argued. For over an, hour she ranted, raved, and even cried, all to no avail. Ben remained adamant; he would not bend. Either she married him, or she fought him in court. In the end she gave in, as he very likely knew she would.
"All right, all right!" she shouted, when she finally realized he was not going to budge. "I'll marry you, damn you, but don't blame me if we wind up m a divorce court." That she sounded childish, she knew, but at that point she no longer cared. Never had she encountered such an exasperating man!
"How charmingly you accept my proposal," Ben snarled. "If we do wind up in a divorce court, it won't be because I haven't tried." He turned away as if he could no longer bear the sight of her. "We'll get the ball rolling tomorrow morning," he said when he turned back to her.
His face was now washed clean of all expression and his tone was flat, deadly flat. "We'll get married as soon as it is legally possible."
"Tomorrow morning!" Vichy repeated, stunned. "But —but surely you want to go home and prepare Chad, don't you?"
"Chad will accept whatever I tell him," Ben informed her arrogantly. "When I go home, you will be with me. I really hate to say that I don't trust you, Vich, but, I don't." His tone took on iron determination. "I will stay right here, in this very room, until after we are married."
"I am not going to run away, Ben," Vichy sighed. "I know when I'm beaten."
"Sure," he snorted. "Nevertheless, I'll stay here. I think we'll do it Saturday. Now, put your coat on and we'll get things started."
"What can we do tonight?" Vichy squeaked. He was moving much too fast for her and the strain showed in her voice.
"Tell your parents," Ben told her coolly, shrugging into a beautiful vicuna jacket.
"I'll tell them," Vichy said shakily, beginning to panic. "You don't have to go with me."
"I know I don't have to go with you," Ben retorted, "but I am going. I helped make it, I'll face your family with you."
Half sick to her stomach, Vichy drove back to her parents' home, Ben, in the Grand Prix, right on her tail. She found both her parents and Bette in the kitchen having a before-bed cup of chocolate. Bette's cheeks flared red when she saw Ben, and her glance shied away from Vichy's. Biting her lip, Vichy fumbled for words to tell them about her condition.
"Mom, Dad, I—I—"
"Vich is pregnant," Ben said flatly over her inept stammering. "We are going to get married."
As subtle as a machine gun, Vichy thought, inwardly wincing at the expressions of shock her parents could not disguise. Surprisingly, they rallied quickly.
"It happens in the best of families," Luke murmured dryly after a short, tense silence. Getting to his feet, he extended his hand to Ben.
"I'm sorry for my bluntness," Ben apologized, accepting Luke's handshake. "But I figured the best way to get it done was to do it."
Strangely, at least Vichy thought it strange, Luke seemed to not only understand, but to agree with Ben.
"Know what you mean," Luke nodded. "So, when are you to going to tie the knot?"
"Saturday," Ben replied.
"It's best." Luke again nodded.
During this exchange Vichy, Johanna, and Bette stared from one to the other in confusion.
"Well, Johanna, don't you have anything to say?" Luke prodded his wife out of her near trance.
"What's to say?" Johanna asked calmly. "It seems to me you and Ben have already said it all." She drew a deep breath, which told Vichy she was not nearly as calm as she pretended to be. "I would have preferred a different, more conventional wedding for Vichy, but, as you say, these things do happen." She blinked and swallowed hard, and Vichy found herself blinking rapidly. "What plans have you made?" she glanced from Vichy to Ben.
"None really," Vichy admitted.
"Other than to get married as soon as possible," Ben added. "I have a young son at home and I would like to get back to him by the beginning of next week." His smile held heartwarming charm. "I kn
ow he is going to love Vich every bit as much as I do."
Vichy had to gulp back the gasp that rose to her lips. How dare he stand there and lie to her parents like that! When just a few weeks ago he had been celebrating with another woman! Fighting down the urge to slap his lying mouth, Vichy said quickly, "And I know I'm going to love him." I at least mean what I say, she thought smugly. I will try very hard to be a good substitute mother.
Ben stayed for over an hour. Johanna made more hot chocolate, then, the five of them sitting around the kitchen table, they discussed what Vichy and Ben would have to do before they could get married. Although Ben insisted they wanted no fuss, he finally gave in to Johanna's insistence that a small family party be held after the ceremony.
By the time Vichy got into bed, she was so tired she immediately fell into a deep sleep, only to toss and turn most of the night with dreams of herself decked out in full bridal attire, walking down the aisle while a church full of beautiful women laughed and took turns kissing Ben.
Vichy went to the breakfast table the next morning bleary-eyed and dull-witted. She and her mother were alone in the kitchen, as her father was hiding out in the, barn and Bette had long since left to go back to school.
"You'd better have something to eat," Johanna advised, glancing at the clock. "Ben will be here in less then an hour."
How did it happen, Vichy wondered, that her mother spoke so easily of Ben? Oh, he had been utterly charming to her, as well as to her father and Bette, but Vichy had always thought both her parents were shrewd judges of character. Yet all three of them seemed to look on him as something special. Of course, they didn't know him the way she did, she told herself, conveniently forgetting she had thought him very special until the last night of her engagement at the hotel.
"I called Mattie and Josh a little while ago." Johanna startled her with that bit of news. "They will both be here. early Saturday morning."
Vichy had to swallow to dislodge the tightness in her throat. "What did they say? Did you tell them that I'm pregnant?"
"Yes, of course I told them," Johanna sighed. "What could they say? I think Josh was more shocked than Mat-tie." She shook her head. "I really believe Josh thought of you as above that sort of thing."