Heartbeat

by Danielle Steel

  “Done.” He grinned.

  “The deal?” She looked stunned. She had been so lost in her own thoughts, he had startled her when he suddenly turned up standing next to her, and she was almost afraid he could hear her thoughts or guess what she was thinking.

  “No, I didn't make the deal yet. But Mike wants me to fly out to Chicago with him on Monday. We're going to have some very quiet meetings with them, discuss our philosophies, and theirs. And if everything goes all right, which it will, the following week I'll fly back out on my own and make the presentation.”

  “Wow! Steven, that's fabulous!” And he looked as though he thought so too when she kissed him. He allowed himself to have two drinks and he was still beaming from ear to ear when he walked her out to the car when she left for work, and he told her he'd have someone drop him off at home. He told her not to bother to come back to the party after work because he didn't think he'd stay long. And as she drove off, he waved, and went back to see his host again. For Steven, it had been a fabulous evening.

  It had been less so for Adrian, and suddenly all she could think of, even in the midst of Steven's incredible opportunity, was whether or not she was pregnant. The idea tormented her all through the evening news, and she was still preoccupied on her way home, and then suddenly, with a quick swerve, she pulled into the curb and decided to stop at an all-night drugstore. Steven didn't have to know anything. She didn't have to say anything to him. But suddenly she wanted to know …and if not tonight …then sometime soon. If she bought the test now, she could do it anytime she felt brave enough. She could even do it while Steven was in Chicago.

  She bought the kit and had the druggist put it in a brown paper bag that she shoved deep into her tote bag, and then she got back in the Porsche again, and drove back to their apartment.

  Steven was home when she arrived, in bed, half asleep, but with a look of supreme bliss on his face. He was sure that he was on his way to Chicago to make the deal of a lifetime.

  AND IN HIS CONDOMINIUM, STARING OUT THE WINDOW into the darkness on Saturday night, William Thigpen looked anything but blissful. He had written for a while, bought Chinese takeout for himself, he had called his kids in New York, watched TV, and he was actually feeling rather lonely. It was one o'clock in the morning by then, and he decided to take a chance and call Sylvia in her room in Las Vegas. She might be back by then, and at worst, he could always leave a message. The phone rang half a dozen times, and when no one answered it, Bill waited for the message operator to come back on, and when he did, it was a man with a gravelly voice and he sounded half asleep and all he said was “Yeah?” as Bill waited.

  “I want to leave a message for the party in 402,” Bill said crisply.

  “This is 402,” the voice growled, “whaddya want?”

  “I must have the wrong room, I'm sorry …” and then suddenly he wondered.

  “… you expecting a call from somewhere?” The gravelly voice asked someone in the distance, and there were hushed exchanges with a hand over the phone, and then suddenly Sylvia was on the phone, sounding very nervous. She would have been smarter not to take the call, but she hadn't figured that out, and she knew it was probably Bill calling from L.A.

  “Hi …there's been a terrible mixup,” she started to explain as Bill almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “They forgot to reserve half the rooms, and four of us are sharing.” It was beautiful. It was a story worthy of his soap opera, and he was at the center of it, feeling as though he were watching someone else's life instead of his own.

  “This is ridiculous …Sylvia, what the hell is going on?” He sounded like the irate lover, but the odd thing was that he didn't feel it. He felt stupid and as though he'd been had, but the truth was he wasn't even angry. All he felt was dumb and disappointed. They'd had something pleasant for a while, but it was more than obvious now that it was over.

  “I …I'm really sorry, Bill … I can't explain it just now. But everything's gotten mixed up here …I …” She was crying and he felt like a complete fool just listening to her. He had caught her in the act and he was the one who wanted to apologize for being stupid.

  “Why don't we talk about it when you get back?”

  “Are you going to kick me off the show?” He felt sad for her as he listened. He wasn't that kind of man, and it hurt him that she didn't know that.

  “That has nothing to do with this, Sylvia. These are two separate issues.”

  “Okay …I'm sorry …I'll be back Sunday night.”

  “Have a good time,” he said softly, and hung up. It was over. It should never have started, but it had, because he was lazy and she had been convenient, and so goddam sexy. She was a knockout, there was no denying it, and now she was knocking out someone else. And for a minute, Bill found himself hoping that the man with the gravelly voice made her happier than he had. He had very little to give the women in his life. He had too little time for them, and even less interest in getting hurt, and opening himself up to the kind of pain he'd had when he lost Leslie and his children. These arrangements were always easy, but they usually ended like this, or some similar scene. Someone wanted to move on, and the party ended. And he had known for a while that she had wanted something he couldn't give her. Time. Real devotion. Maybe even love. But all he had to offer was kindness and some fun, while it lasted.

  He thought about her for a while, as he stood looking out at the night sky, and then toasted her with a club soda, as he went to bed, thinking about his life. He felt lonely suddenly, and sad that it had ended like this, with a phone call to Las Vegas.

  He lay awake for a long time that night, thinking of the women in his life in recent years, of how little they had really meant to him, how uninvolved they all really were, how meaningless their relationships, how casual their sex lives, and as he fell asleep, he found himself thinking longingly of Leslie for the first time in years, and the kind of relationship they had once shared. It seemed like several lifetimes ago, and it was. He doubted if he'd ever have that again. Maybe you only had that once, when you were young. Maybe you never got a second chance at the real thing, and maybe in the end, it didn't matter. He fell asleep finally, thinking not of Sylvia or his ex-wife …but of his boys, Adam and Tommy. In the end, they were all that mattered.

  SUNDAY FLEW BY IN A FLURRY OF PREPARATION FOR Steven's trip, interspersed with tennis games, and Adrian never touched the kit that sat hidden in her tote bag. She did his laundry for him, made lunch for him and the three friends he had played doubles with, and she said almost nothing to him, but he seemed not to notice. And that night, they went to a movie. She hardly heard anything that was said, and all she could think about, as they sat in the dark reading the subtitles on the Swedish film, was whether or not she was pregnant. It was crazy, in the past two days it had become an obsession with her, and yet she still wasn't that late. But for some reason, she had an odd premonition. She didn't feel sick and her body didn't seem to have changed, except in the ways it normally did when she expected her period. Her breasts were slightly enlarged, her body a little more bloated, she went to the bathroom a little more frequently, but none of it indicated any dire change. And yet, all she wanted now was for Steven to leave. She wanted him to leave the state so that she could find out in peace. She had to know, but she felt sure that if she did the test while he was around, somehow he would know what had happened. She didn't even dare do it after he had left for the airport on Monday. What if he came back? … if he had forgotten something …there she would be in her bathroom with a test tube full of bright blue water … if she was pregnant.

  She still didn't really believe it could have happened to her, they were very careful almost all the time, but there had been one time …one time …almost three weeks before …three weeks …She thought about it all day while she was at work after Steven had left, and she rushed home after the six o'clock news, let herself into the house, ran upstairs, and set the kit up in her bathroom. She did everything it told her to
do, and then she sat nervously, watching the alarm clock in her bedroom. She didn't even trust her wristwatch. If it turned blue, it meant …and it was a ten-minute wait …but within three minutes, the guessing game was over.

  It was not a question of degree, there was no need to ask herself if the liquid in the vial had changed, if perhaps … or maybe … as she stared at it, it was so dark, and so bright, and so definite an answer that there was no question. She stood totally still, and then she sat down on the toilet lid to stare at the bright blue liquid in the vial. There was no doubt in her mind as she looked, she realized that no matter what Steven had or hadn't wanted, how careful they had been, or what they had said to each other over the years …in spite of all of that, as she sat staring at the vial, her eyes welling up slowly with unshed tears, there wasn't a moment's doubt. She was pregnant.

  The only real question in her mind was what Steven was going to say. She was sure he was going to make a fuss, but how big a fuss, and how serious would he be, and would he really mean it? Would he change his mind eventually? Would he readjust to the idea of a child after all? Surely he couldn't have meant all the awful things he had said in the last three years. Surely, one small child couldn't make such a terrible difference. She had known about the pregnancy for five minutes, maybe less, and it was already a baby to her, and she was already arguing for its life, and she was praying that Steven would let her keep it. He couldn't force her to get rid of it, after all. And why would he want her to anyway? He was a reasonable man, and it was his baby. She sat in her bathroom and closed her eyes, as tears of fear rolled slowly down her cheeks. What was she going to do now? She was at the same time happy and sad, and terrified of what to say to her husband. He had always jokingly said that if she ever got pregnant and decided to keep it, he would leave her. But surely he didn't mean it …and if he did? …what would she do? She didn't want to lose him, of course, but how could she give up this baby?

  It was a hellish week for her, spent agonizing over what to say to Steven when he got home, and each time he called with more exciting news of his meetings with IMFAC, Adrian sounded more and more confused, more distant, more distracted, until finally on Thursday night, he asked her what was wrong. She was hardly making sense and he was sure she hadn't listened to anything he'd said. The meetings had gone brilliantly, and he was returning to Los Angeles the next day, but he was going back to Chicago the following Tuesday.

  “Adrian, are you okay?”

  “Why?” Everything stopped as she said the word. What did he mean? Did he know? But how could he?

  “I don't know. You've sounded funny all week. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I'm fine …no …actually, I've been having terrible headaches. I think it's just stress …from work …” And in fact she had felt queasy once or twice, which she was sure was her imagination. But the pregnancy wasn't. She was sure of that. She had even done the test again, just to be absolutely certain.

  Tears stung her eyes as she listened to him. She wanted him to come home now, so she could tell him. She wanted to get it over with, to be honest with him, so he could tell her everything would be okay, and she could relax and have their baby …baby …it was amazing … in a matter of days, her whole life had turned around, and all she could think of was this baby. She had always been perfectly content to give up the prospect of having children, for him, and now suddenly she was willing to turn her whole life upside down for an unknown baby. She was willing to change their apartment, their life-style, her job if need be, give up their den, their quiet nights, their independent freewheeling existence. She was still scared when she thought of it, still worried about what it would be like to finally be a mother, still desperately frightened that somehow she would make a botch of it, and yet in spite of all that, she knew she had to try it.

  She wanted to go to the airport to meet his plane on Friday night, but in the end she had to work late, and she didn't see him until she got back to the apartment. He was unpacking his bags and watching TV, the stereo was on, and the whole place had come to life again now that Steven was home from Chicago. He was humming to himself when she walked in and he smiled when he saw her.

  “Hi, there …where've you been?”

  “At work, as usual.” She grinned nervously, and slowly she approached him, but when he put his arms around her, she held him close, as though she might drown if she left him for an instant.

  “Baby …what's wrong?” He had known something was wrong all week, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. She looked all right to him now, and then suddenly, with a feeling of dismay, he wondered if she might have been fired and was embarrassed to tell him. Maybe with his own job going so well, she was just afraid to say it. And it was such a good job, too, he was really going to be sorry for her if she lost it. “Is it work? …is …” He stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. He didn't know what it was, but he knew instantly that something serious had happened. He pulled her down on the bed next to him with his arm around her, wanting to offer her all the support he could. He could afford to now, his own life was going so well, and Mike had already told him that he would get a huge promotion if the agency actually landed IMFAC. “What is it?”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him, and for a moment she couldn't bring herself to say the words. This should have been the happiest moment of their married life, and yet because of the things he had said to her in the past, this was instead their most frightening moment.

  “Were you fired?”

  She laughed through her tears as she shook her head at him. “No, unfortunately. Sometimes I think that might be a relief.” But he didn't take her seriously. He knew how much she loved her job. It was a great job. He knew that.

  “Are you sick?”

  She shook her head more slowly this time, and her eyes locked on his with quiet desperation. “No, I'm not …” And then she took a quick breath and prayed that he would accept it. “I'm pregnant.”

  There was an endless silence in the room where she could hear her own heart pound and his breathing as he held her, and then suddenly he wrenched away and stood up to look down at her with quiet desperation. “You're not serious, are you, Adrian?”

  “Yes, I am.” She had known it would be a shock to him. It had been a shock to her, too, but it had been an honest error.

  “Did you deceive me?”

  She shook her head solemnly. “No, I didn't. It just happened.”

  “That's unfortunate.” Something in his face turned to ice, and as Adrian looked at him, she felt awash with panic. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That's too bad,” he said quietly with a look of intense chagrin. “I'm sorry, Adrian. That's rotten luck.”

  “I wouldn't exactly call it luck,” she said. “We had a little something to do with it, you know.”

  He nodded, feeling sorry for her, and himself. “I guess you'll have to take care of it next week.” Her blood ran cold as she looked at him. It was that simple to him. Take care of it But it wasn't that simple for her anymore as she stared at her husband.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know what it means. We can't have a baby, for God's sake, you know that.”

  “Why not? Is there something I don't know about? Some terrible hereditary disease, are we planning a trip to the moon? Is there some reason why we can't have a baby?”

  “Yes. A very good one.” He looked adamant suddenly as they stood facing each other across their bedroom. “We agreed a long time ago that we didn't want to have kids. And I thought we both meant it.”

  “But why not? There's no real reason why we can't have kids.” She looked at him pleadingly. “We both have good jobs. We have a good life. We could support a baby easily on our income.”

  “Do you have any idea how much children cost? Education, clothes, medical. And it wouldn't be fair to bring an unwanted child into our life. No, Adrian, it is not right.” He looked terrified, even more so as he
saw that he hadn't convinced her. She knew how extreme he was in his views because of the poverty of his own youth, but their life was entirely different.

  “Money isn't everything. We have time and love and a nice home and each other. What more do you need than that?”

  “The desire to have them,” he said quietly, “and I don't have that. I never have. I don't want children, Adrian. I never have and I never will. I told you that before we got married, and if you turn on me now, I'm not going to stand still for it. You have to get rid of that …” He hesitated but only for an instant. “…the pregnancy.” He refused to call it a baby.

  “And what if I don't want to?”

  “You'd be a fool if you didn't, Adrian. You have a shot at a great career yourself, if you set your mind to it, and there's no way you can do what you do and have a baby.”

  “I can take a leave-of-absence for six months and then go back. A lot of women do it.”

  “Yeah, and eventually they give up their careers, have two more kids and become housewives. And in the end, they hate themselves and their children for it.” He was voicing the worst of her fears, but she still thought it was worth taking a chance and having the baby. She didn't want to give it up just because it was easier not having children. So what if they weren't millionaires? Why did everything have to be so goddam perfect? And why couldn't he understand what she was feeling?