Banish Misfortune

by Anne Stuart

  Elyssa and Hamilton would be godparents—she had long ago decided that, perhaps as a sop to her conscience. That would be their tie, and it would be enough. The baby was hers, her immaculate conception, and she would only share it with those she wanted. This baby wasn't going to belong to anyone else by virtue of blood or an accident of birth.

  It was a mistake going to New York and Jessica knew it was. Everything would have been so much easier if she could have just let them know sometime in the summer that she was a mother, with no embarrassing way to pinpoint dates. But with Hamilton sick, there was no question but that she would go. She would simply have to count on a not very beneficial fate to carry her through the visit relatively unscathed. For the first time in her pregnancy she could be grateful that she had gained so much weight early on. She looked a bit more than five months pregnant, which could only work as a blessing.

  She could hear the telltale sound of the Valiant from far down the road, and she dashed to the window, peering through the frosted pane. It was Cameron, all right, the Valiant chugging and puffing and moving valiantly along as befit its name, with a miserable-looking Marianne by his side. A small, secret smile lit Jessica's worried face as she watched the odd couple approach.

  "The Toyota bit the dust once more," Marianne announced as she scrambled from the front seat before Cameron could move. "I was hiking up the road when he came by." There was a distinct lack of gratitude in her voice, but Cameron only smiled sardonically.

  "A happy Christmas to you, Jessica," he greeted her. "I wanted to wish you Godspeed before you left, and it looks like I've come in handy. Not that your friend will admit it."

  "You have your uses," Marianne said sourly. "I left the kids with Mrs. LaPlante. I figured Burlington on Christmas Eve will be a complete zoo, but this way I can buy some last-minute things without interference." She tossed her head at Cameron dismissingly. "Thanks again."

  "Uh, Marianne..." Jessica began, amusement ripening inside her as she pulled her down coat around her chilled body. "I'm afraid we have a problem."

  "Which is?"

  "I took the Subaru in for repairs. The four-wheel drive is sticking on. I thought we'd be able to drive in the Toyota."

  Cameron's sardonic grin widened, and he made a sweeping gesture toward the venerable old wreck. "Ladies, my chariot awaits you."

  "Damn." Marianne's reaction was heartfelt if tactless. "I don't really need to go in. Why don't the two of you...?"

  "Don't be silly, Marianne. You need to finish your shopping, and this is a perfect chance. That is, if Cameron doesn't mind."

  "Not at all," he said politely, barely hiding his air of satisfaction. "I have a few things to do myself."

  "I don't think-"

  "Don't be ridiculous, you silly woman," Andrew snapped. "I'm not going to compromise you in the space of a busy afternoon. Help me get Jessica's bags and try to be sensible for a change."

  Marianne stood there, obviously torn, and her broad, pretty face was set with stubbornness. Jessica tipped the scales. "Please, Marianne. I need you for moral support. I'm not very happy about going to New York. For one thing, I'm worried about Ham, and for another, they don't know I'm pregnant. You can help me keep my mind off what I'm going to face when I get there."

  Jessica could have almost felt guilty at the way Marianne capitulated if she hadn't known that Marianne wanted a good excuse for being in the intoxicating, dangerous presence of the irascible Scot.

  "Do you think you'll see Peter?" Marianne asked anxiously.

  "I don't know," Jessica said, her voice diffident. "He's married now—I don't really expect to run into him." She smiled, holding up her overnight bag. "And this is all I'm taking. We may as well go." She moved past her friend to climb into the backseat before Marianne could open her mouth in protest. "You take the front seat. I still have to get my purse rearranged."

  There was nothing Marianne could do but glare im-potently at both of them. Jessica busied herself with her overstuffed purse, to avoid both Marianne's accusing eyes and her uncomfortable questions. She'd told her as little as possible about her child's conception, contenting herself with relating her broken engagement and nothing more. Marianne assumed Peter was the father, as Jessica hoped everyone would, and she had no intention of enlightening her.

  "Get in, woman," Andrew growled. "The snow's getting heavier, and we don't want Jessica to miss her plane."

  "No, we wouldn't want that," Jessica murmured, unconvinced, staring at the ticket in her lap with a sinking feeling. "We wouldn't want that at all."

  She'd been deliberately vague about her time of arrival, preferring to arrive at the charming little town house on her own. Elyssa would be there—it had sounded as if she'd moved back in when Jessica had last spoken with her. She'd forgotten to ask about David—indeed, would have gladly continued to forget about David, if only Elyssa would. But maybe he'd be there, after all, along with old Johnson, whose overso-licitiousness had always set her teeth on edge. But no Springer. Elyssa had promised no Springer.

  She stood for a moment outside on the steps in the chilly winter air, hesitating. The branches were bare on the tree-lined street in the East Sixties, and the small, discreet signs of Christmas abounded. A season of joy and cheer, celebrated by an unwed mother and a dying man. It would make a good TV movie, she thought with a wry smile, raising her gloved hand to ring the bell before she could change her mind. But they'd need a handsome hero.

  "Darling!" The door was flung open, and Jessica felt herself pulled into Elyssa's scented embrace, the slender arms clinging like a lifeline. "Thank heavens you're here! I was afraid you'd change your mind, stay in Vermont. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

  To Jessica's surprise she felt her own eyes fill with tears, and she hugged Elyssa back, suddenly very glad she had risked everything to come. "I had to," she said with a watery smile. "You and Ham are my family—I couldn't have Christmas without you." She let herself be pulled into the warm hallway redolent of pine needles and spice, still keeping the down coat close over her expanding body. "How is Ham doing?"

  As Elyssa shut the door behind them she took a moment to compose herself, and Jessica could see the lines of strain, the circles under her dark, liquid eyes. She had always looked so youthful and vibrant, so young and alive, but today Elyssa MacDowell looked every one of her fifty-three years. "Not good, Jessica," she said with a deep sigh. "They're pumping him full of painkillers, blasting him with cobalt, but it just keeps growing. He's lost a lot of weight—don't mention it, okay? I just wish he'd let me tell Springer."

  "Springer still doesn't know?" Jessica questioned carefully. "He's not here?"

  "He has no idea. He's spending Christmas with some friends on Puget Sound—I don't know if he'll even remember to call. It's not fair of Hamilton, not to give Springer the chance—" her voice cracked "—the chance to say good-bye."

  The momentary, suicidally irrational disappointment . that Springer really wasn't going to turn up vanished. "He's that bad?"

  "He's not good. Part of the problem is that he's lost interest. He doesn't seem to feel he has any reason to hold on, and part of me can't blame him. I know it's selfish of me, but I'm not ready to have him die yet. If he could just hold out, go into remission, it could last indefinitely. If not—the doctors can't be very specific—it could be a matter of weeks, it could be six months. His white count is low, and—" She broke off suddenly. "I'll fill you in on all that later. He knows you're here—he can't wait to see you. Let me take your coat and you can go on in. He's sitting up today. Just be prepared for a change." She held out her hands for Jessica's coat.

  There was nothing she could really do to put off the inevitable. The house was sinfully warm, as befitted a place of sickness, and the down coat was turning into a sauna. With an effort at nonchalance she undid the buttons with one only slightly trembling hand and shrugged out of her coat. "Here you go. In the living room, you said?"

  Steeled for a reaction, she felt
absurdly relieved and deflated when the distraught Elyssa didn't even bother

  to look at her very evident belly but simply nodded, turning to hang up the coat. "Go on in," she said again. "I'll give you two some time alone before I bring in the drinks. Dubonnet?"

  A small smile lit Jessica's face at her friend's understandable abstraction. "Perrier, please. I'm not drinking right now." Patiently she waited for a reaction, but none was forthcoming.

  "That's probably not a bad idea," Elyssa said vaguely, making a little shooing motion with her hands. "I'll be in shortly."

  Jessica paused outside the living room, smoothing the rough woolen dress over her rounded stomach, her booted feet quiet on the marble foyer floor. She wasn't quite sure what she expected from her old friend, but she held her breath, pasting a dazzling smile on her face before stepping into the room.

  The smile faded quickly as Hamilton looked up at her. He'd lost his noble paunch, his rosy cheeks, his vigor. The man that looked up at her still had twinkling eyes, the only sign of life in that pale face, but even his gray beard seemed to have lost its liveliness. The blue eyes smiled at her, meeting her worried eyes, then traveled down directly to her pregnant stomach.

  "How are you, Ham?" she queried softly just inside the doorway.

  "The better for seeing you, little one. Though if my eyes don't deceive me you aren't so little anymore. Come here and kiss me, darling. It's not catching," he said lightly.

  With a sudden rush Jessica ran across the room and threw her arms around his slight, suddenly fragile fig-ure. "You look like hell, Ham," she said gruffly, her voice filled with tears.

  "Well, thank heavens someone has the nerve to say that to me," he replied, his voice equally gruff, as he stroked her shining length of hair, which had grown at a quick rate. "You, on the other hand, look magnificent." He held her away for a moment, and there were tears in both their eyes. "Sultry and fecund and delicious. Is it Springer's?"

  She only blinked. "Of course not."

  "Well, don't bother trying to convince me it was that wimp of a fiance. Peter Kinsey couldn't father anything. So who's the father?"

  She stalled for time by pulling up a chair beside his. "No one you know," she replied tranquilly. "Besides, he's ancient history. This is my baby and no one else's."

  "I always thought you were clever but I didn't think you could manage to pull off an immaculate conception," Ham shot back. "So this isn't my grandchild?"

  Jessica smiled at him. "Your godchild," she said gently. "Yours and Elyssa's. Will that do?"

  He shrugged, but she could see the pleased look in his bright eyes. "I don't know if it's a good thing to saddle a kid with a godfather who's about to kick the bucket. Why don't we have Springer serve as backup?"

  "No!" The word came out with unexpected anguish, but it took only a moment for her to regain her calm. "No, Ham. You're her godfather, no one else."

  "Her, eh? How do you know it won't be a boy?" Ham snorted. "I can tell by the way you're carrying that it's a boy."

  Jessica laughed. "Marianne says everyone becomes an expert on babies when they're around a pregnant woman. What makes you think it's a boy?"

  "You're carrying the same way Elyssa did, with Springer. All in front." Tactfully he ignored her stricken expression. "So I'm going to be a grandfather," he mused, pleased.

  "Godfather," she corrected.

  "Oh, yes, godfather. I always get those two mixed up." There was a devilish grin on his pale face. "You'll have to keep reminding me."

  "Damn you, Ham," Jessica said lightly.

  "Why are you damning my husband?" Elyssa queried as she backed into the room, a small tray of drinks in one slender hand.

  "Come here and meet your new grand—that is, godchild, Elyssa," Ham invited her, then watched with delight as the tray crashed to the parquet floor. "It's going to be a boy."

  "Girl," Jessica corrected, rising from her chair with ponderous grace and helping the shocked Elyssa with the broken glass. "I'll bet you."

  "When's it due?" Hamilton asked desultorily, but Jessica wasn't fooled.

  "In the spring," she said firmly. "And that's as specific as I care to get."

  "All right, I'll bet you a case of Moet that it's a boy. And I guess I'm going to have to live long enough to find out whether I win or lose, won't I, Elyssa?"

  "Certainly," Elyssa said briskly. "I've never known you to welch on a bet, no matter what the cause."

  "No," Hamilton said with relish, "I never have. I'm certainly not about to start now."

  Christmas had never been Springer MacDowell's favorite time of year. It always reminded him of other families, that mystical, fairy-tale world that normal families seemed to be and his family never was. For Katherine's sake he always made an effort, and this year it was more important than ever.

  But this year he felt even less like celebrating. Something was wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. For a week he'd been tempted to take Katherine back East for her first Christmas with her paternal grandparents. He'd thought better of it, of course. But here it was Christmas Eve, and they were condemned to one more weary round of forced festivities at his upwardly mobile ex-wife's town house. And he knew Katherine wouldn't like it much better than he did.

  Maybe after Christmas they could go East. And maybe Jessica Hansen might possibly have surfaced. Though why such a thought should cheer him was a mystery. But it did. He looked out into the Seattle drizzle with a tiny bit more holiday spirit. Maybe New York for the New Year.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "I hope you don't mind, but I've put you in Springer's room," Elyssa said, leading the way up the staircase that had narrowed by the time they got to the third floor. "I'm in the bedroom you usually use, and Johnson's been staying in the other bedroom."

  "Where is Johnson?"

  Elyssa shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Who knows? He tells Ham that he can't bear to be around death and suffering—he's too sensitive for it. So we don't see much of him, which is just as well, I suppose."

  "And David?"

  Elyssa sighed. "I don't know about David. He'll have to accept that Ham is a prior responsibility. I can't just abandon him, leave him to die alone in pain and misery."

  "But David thinks you should?" Jessica drawled, letting her tone of voice carry just a trace of censure.

  "Let's just say he thinks our relationship should come first," she temporized.

  "You mean he thinks his relationship should come first."

  "Don't, Jessica! I'm having a difficult enough time as it is. I haven't seen him in days, it's Christmas Eve, and I miss him."

  Relenting, Jessica put a soothing hand on her friend's arm. "Then why don't you go to him?"

  "I can't leave Ham."

  "Of course you can. I'm here; I'll take care of him if he needs anything. He isn't in any medical danger right now—there's nothing you can do that I couldn't do just as well. Why don't you grab a bottle of Moet, stop by a delicatessen and show up on his doorstep with a midnight feast?" Much as it galled her to encourage Elyssa's relationship with that pig, she couldn't stand her friend's unhappiness. First Marianne and Andrew, now Elyssa and the detested David. She certainly seemed to be becoming a sentimental matchmaker in her old age.

  Doubt and excitement played over Elyssa's expressive face, and she suddenly looked ten years younger again. "Would you mind terribly, Jessica?" she breathed. "You just arrived, and I was looking forward to sitting around catching up on what's been happening to you. And if you think you're going to avoid telling me all about my godchild you have another think coming."

  "I'll tell you all about her—we'll have plenty of time. In the meantime, why don't you go put on something pretty and sexy, and fix your makeup while I call you a cab? You can make it up to his place by midnight if your hurry."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. Hurry up, Elyssa. And Merry Christmas."

  Elyssa paused long enough to give Jessica an exuberant hug, then sped down the s
tairs like a teenager. "Merry Christmas, darling," she called back.

  With a distant, satisfied smile on her face, Jessica steeled herself to enter Springer's room. The reality was a relief and a disappointment. It was a large room, with lots of windows looking out at the taller buildings and the bright Christmas lights, and very little furniture, no pictures, nothing to signify that anyone in particular called this room his own. Elyssa had tried to personalize it with a small, delicate Christmas tree to welcome her, the tiny white lights glowing in the cavernous room. The huge bed was the only thing that made her think of Springer, both because of its size and for other, less comfortable reasons.

  There was a telephone on the bedside table, and she quickly called a taxi for Elyssa before she headed in for a long, relaxing shower in the adjoining bathroom. It was past midnight by the time she emerged, shoulder-length hair wet, face scrubbed, her rounded body wrapped in a thick flannel nightgown. For a moment she considered going back down to the kitchen and warming some milk, then thought better of it. She had finally developed a taste for milk during the past five months, but the thought of Ham's kitchen at midnight brought back too many memories, memories that were safely buried in the back of her subconscious. At that point she didn't even remember what Springer MacDowell looked like.

  Curling up in the oversized bed, she pulled the down quilt around her, turning off the bedside light to stare at the twinkling Christmas tree in the corner. How were Cameron and Marianne progressing, she wondered. Had Marianne conquered her distrust enough to ask him to share their Christmas dinner? Or were the two of them alone, miserable, wanting to be with the other? Except that Marianne was too stubborn to ever admit it, Jessica thought with a sigh. And Cameron too cagey to push things. No, they were probably alone, and sound asleep on Christmas Eve. As she soon would be. Punching up the pillows behind her, she pulled the comforter closer, placing a soothing hand over the sleeping baby inside her. "Merry Christmas, precious," she said softly.