Family Album

by Danielle Steel

  “Sounds pretty boring to me.” Gail shrugged, “at least he's cute.” He was that, but not in a way that appealed to Anne. She thought Bill the most handsome man in the world, and going home in a cab that night, Vanessa shook her head, as she talked to Jason about it.

  “I don't understand that kid at all. She's practically a child, and there she is married to that old man, running around in diamonds and a mink coat.”

  “Maybe those things are important to her.” Jason couldn't understand it either but he had always thought she was a nice girl. Not as intelligent or interesting as Van, but maybe that was hard to say. She was so young and so withdrawn it was hard to know what she was.

  But Vanessa was shaking her head. “I don't think they are important to her. I don't think she gives a damn about any of that stuff. He just wants to give her all that, and she probably wears it to please him.” She was right on that score, she knew her sister that well, the only one in the family who would have loved the glitter and the furs was Val, and eventually Greg would have liked the good life, if he'd lived, the others had simpler tastes, and their parents did now too, contrary to their early life. But it had no importance for them anymore, hadn't for years, Van knew. “I just don't see what she sees in a man his age.”

  “He's awfully good to her, Van, and not just materially. He can't do enough for her. If she's thirsty, she has a glass of water in her hand before she can speak up, if she's tired he takes her home, if she's bored, he takes her out to dance, to Europe, to see friends … you can't beat that.” He smiled at the girl he loved, suddenly wishing he did more for her. “A guy his age thinks of all that stuff, he's got nothing else to do,” he teased and she laughed.

  “That's no excuse. You mean I don't get a diamond ring the size of an egg?”

  He looked at her soberly as they walked into the house. “Is that what you want someday, Van?”

  “Nope.” She sounded sure of it and she was. She wanted other things in her life. Like him. Maybe a couple of kids one day, eight or ten years down the road. Stuff like that.

  “What do you want?”

  She shrugged pensively as she threw her coat on a chair. “Maybe to publish a book one day … good reviews …” She couldn't think of anything else, and she didn't want to tell him that she might want him and a baby or two. It was too soon to think of that, let alone talk about it.

  “That's all?” He looked disappointed.

  She smiled at him, softening, “Maybe you too.”

  “You've got that now.”

  She sat down on the couch and he lit a fire. They were comfortable here, with their books and papers all around, the Sunday Times still spread out on the floor tangled with his sneakers, and her shoes, his glasses on the desk. “I really think this is all I want, Jase.”

  He looked pleased. “You have mighty simple tastes, my friend.” He held her close, and then, “Are you serious about the book?”

  “I hope so. After I finish school and get a job.”

  He sighed. “It's so damn hard to write them.” He knew that only too well. “I still think we should collaborate on a play.” He looked at her hopefully and she smiled. He had always felt that their styles would mesh well.

  “Maybe one day.” They kissed and he lay her back on the couch and slipped a hand into her blouse. It was a far cry from the scene between Bill and Anne at the Pierre. She was lying on the satin bedspread wearing a marabou-trimmed peignoir as his tongue ran lazily up her thigh, and the diamonds on her hand sparkled in the dim light, just as he touched her where she liked it most, and she arched her back with a moan, as he pulled the peignoir from her and it drifted slowly to the floor. But the feelings were the same. The love, the desire, the commitment to each other through thick or thin. It was all the same, in sneakers, or marabou.

  CHAPTER 39

  In May, Bill and Anne went back to New York for a few days. Anne wanted to see Gail, and he had business there. They stayed at the Pierre again, and he took her to the jewelers he liked best, and insisted on buying her some new things. The weather was beautiful, and she had just bought a beautiful white dress and coat at BendeI's which she wore to lunch with him at Cote Basque, and he was so proud of her as she walked into the room. She was still totally unaware of herself, and she moved like a doe as she approached him across the room, seeing no one stare at her, seeing only his eyes smiling at her. But he saw something else, that same empty, nervous look that had been there for months. He hoped it happened soon, and he knew why it was so important to her. He wanted a baby too, but not as desperately as she did.

  “How was Bendel's today?”

  “Pretty good.” She still talked like a child sometimes, but she didn't look like one anymore. She was wearing her hair down, and he had had a woman he knew in L.A. teach her how to put makeup on, and suddenly she looked more like twenty-five than eighteen. Gail had noticed it too, and had obviously approved. She had a new boyfriend now, and was loving New York. Bill still insisted that she stay at the Barbizon, but she was threatening to move out by fall and get her own place, and Anne had been assigned to work on him. “I just bought this today.” She waved at the dress and coat with a perfectly manicured hand, and he noticed that she was wearing the new pearls he had just bought her in Hong Kong. They were huge and almost didn't look real. “You like?”

  “I love.” He kissed her gently on the lips, and the waiter took their order for drinks. He had wine, she had Perrier, and they both ate a light lunch. She loved the quenelles at the Cote Basque, and he had a spinach salad and a steak. They weren't really doing justice to the exquisite cuisine, but he had another meeting to attend, and she was off to Bloomingdale's, and then she was going to meet Gail at school.

  Bill wondered sometimes if she should be going to school too, she needed something more to do than get her nails done and shop and wait for him to come home at night. She needed something more than keeping her temperature chart every day. She had to think of something else, but he was afraid to tell her that. He just kept reassuring her it would happen soon. They had both had one child, so they knew they were each capable of it, it was just a matter of time, the doctor had told her that too. “Have you called your sister yet, sweetheart?” She shook her head vaguely, playing with the cookie she had taken from the tray. “Why not?” She still avoided most of the Thayers, even Lionel, whom he knew she had once loved so much. It was as though she wanted to shut them all out of her life now. She had him, and she wanted nothing else, but he didn't think it was right. It would have broken his heart if Gail had done that to him, although he knew that the Thayers had never been as close to her as he was to Gail.

  Anne shrugged. “Mom said she had exams when I talked to her last week.” It was obvious she had no interest in calling Van. And she never called Valerie in L.A., she hadn't talked to her in months.

  “You can still give her a call. She might have time for a quick drink.”

  “I'll call her tonight.” But he already knew she would not. She would lie around, thinking, counting forward and back … fourteen days from … and the next morning she would wake up at the crack of dawn and take her temperature again. He wanted her to stop and just relax about it all. She was getting so uptight about it she was losing weight. He was thinking of taking her to Europe in July to take her mind off things, and he wanted Gail to come too, but she had a summer job with Pauline Trigère, and she refused to go anywhere.

  “What do you think, sweetheart?” They were strolling up Madison Avenue toward where his meeting was, and he was trying to interest her in the European trip. He had to interest her in something. What if a baby never came, or it took years, she couldn't spend her whole life waiting for that, and it was beginning to dim the pleasure they had shared. It was all she could think about, all she could talk about sometimes, as though she could replace the baby she'd given up. And he didn't dare tell her that she never would, no more than he could replace his wife. He loved Anne just as much, but it was all different now, and once
in a great while, there was still that empty ache of missing her, just as he knew that Anne would always regret that child. He would always remain a lonely void for her, which no one could fill, no husband, no child. He looked at her tenderly. “St. Tropez would be fun. We could rent a boat.” She smiled at him then, he did so much for her, and she was always aware of it.

  “I'd love that. And I'm sorry I've been such a drip. I guess we both know why.”

  “Yes, we do.” He stopped right on Madison Avenue and took her in his arms. “But you have to let Mother Nature take her own sweet time, and besides, it's fun trying, isn't it?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him. But he still remembered how she had cried when she got her last period, and the angry scene they'd had when she told him it was all Faye's fault. That if it hadn't been for her she would have had a three-and-a-half year-old son now, and Bill had looked so hurt…. “Is that what you want?” he had asked, and she had screamed, “Yes, it is.” He felt so sorry for her, he had even suggested they adopt a three-year-old boy, but she wanted their own. She wanted to have “her own baby” again. It was pointless to try and tell her she could never replace the one she'd given up. And she was determined to have a baby by Bill, immediately, if possible. Her mother suspected that when they had lunch one day, and the veiled look in her eyes accused Faye just as they had for years. She had never forgiven her, and possibly never would.

  And now, on Madison Avenue, she looked sadly at Bill. “Do you think it'll ever happen?” She had asked him that a million times since January, and it had only been four months since their wedding day. They had used precautions until then, no thanks to her, he reminded her several times. But he knew why she wanted to be careless. It was the same thing again. That desperation to have a child, to fill the void, to relive the past differently this time. She had never forgiven herself for giving that child up, or Faye for making her….

  “Yes, I think it will happen, little love. Six months from now you'll be wallowing around like a whale, telling me how miserable and uncomfortable you are, and hating me for it.” They both laughed and he kissed her again and left for his meeting, as she headed for Bloomingdale's, and it tore at her heart when she passed the racks of baby clothes. She stopped for just a moment and fingered them wistfully, wanting to buy something just for good luck, and then afraid it would jinx her instead. She remembered when she had bought little tiny pink shoes when she'd been pregnant before. She had been so convinced it would be a girl, Lionel and John had teased her about it.

  The memory was still painful now, as she walked away, and it hurt to think of John. She wondered how Lionel was. They seldom spoke anymore. Things had never been the same since he had told her parents about Bill, and she seemed to have nothing to say to him now. The last she'd heard, he was still looking for a job at one of the studios, anxious to get back into film. She sighed, and took the escalator downstairs, there was a riot of color everywhere, silk flowers, patent-leather bags, bright suede belts in rainbow hues. She couldn't resist, and came home with bags of it, most of which she knew she'd never wear, unlike the diamond bracelet Bill gave her that night to ease the pain. He knew how unhappy she was about not getting pregnant yet. But he was sure she would. She was healthy and young and just trying too hard, and the doctor had told her as much. He told her so again the week before they went to St. Tropez. “Just relax and don't think of it,” he said, which was easy for him to say. He was fifty-one years old, and had learned to be more philosophical about life.

  Deep down she was still upset but for the three weeks that they played on the beach at St. Tropez, Anne had never looked happier in her life. She wore blue jeans and espadrilles, bikinis and bright cotton shirts, and she let her hair go wild, in a haze of blond bleached even paler by the sun. She was a beautiful girl, and growing prettier by the day. And he was pleased to see she had even gained a little weight, and when they went to Cannes to shop, she didn't fit into her usual size, she had to move up one. And he teased her when she had trouble zipping up her jeans again. He told her she was getting fat, but a question dawned which he didn't even dare voice to her. And in Paris he was sure of it when she was too tired to walk along the Seine, fell asleep on the way to Coq Hardi for lunch, and turned green when he suggested a Dubonnet. He didn't say a word to her, but protected her like a mother hen with a chick, and when they got back to L.A., he reminded her that she hadn't had a period since they left a month before. For the first time in six months, she hadn't even thought of it, and suddenly her jaw dropped as she made rapid calculations in her head, and then grinned nervously at him.

  “Do you think … ?” She didn't even dare say the words and he smiled gently at her. It hadn't taken so long after all. Six months wasn't long at all, except it had been to her, so anxious to conceive.

  “Yes, I do, little one. I've thought it for the last few weeks but I didn't want to get your hopes up, so I didn't say anything.” She squealed and threw her arms around his neck, and he tried to calm her down. “Let's wait till we're sure, and then well celebrate.”

  She went for the test the next day, and when she called them breathlessly that afternoon for the results, they were positive. She was so stunned, she just sat there and stared at the phone, and when Bill came home she still looked dazed, and he whooped with delight. And he noticed, as she wandered around in her bathing suit, that she had already subtly changed shape. She wasn't as angular as usual, everything seemed softer and more round.

  “I am … I am … I am …” She was so excited she danced with glee, and he took her out to celebrate at the Beverly Hills Hotel, but she fell instantly to sleep, as he found himself dreaming of the baby they would have. He was caught up in it too, and he was thinking of transforming the guest room into a nursery. They could put another maid's room over the garage, and put one of the maids there … then put the nurse in what was now the maid's room … his mind whirled around all night as she slept, and the next day he came home for lunch to see how she was and celebrate again. It seemed to make no dent at all in their sex life, and she had never looked happier than she did then. And she constantly spoke of their “little boy,” as though it had to be a boy, to replace the one that was gone … he would have been almost four years old by then, Bill knew….

  They spent Labor Day weekend quietly with friends. People were getting used to her now, and although they envied Bill, they didn't make as many cracks as they once did. And she looked more grown up than she had nine months before. Especially now, the pregnancy had given her a certain maturity.

  They were planning to go to New York in the next few weeks, to see Gail, and the doctor said it was all right for Anne to go, but the day before they left, she began spotting lightly, and he put her to bed to rest. She was terrified of what it meant, but the doctor insisted that it happened all the time. Most women had some spotting in the first few months, it meant nothing at all, he said, except that after three days it hadn't stopped, and Bill was growing anxious now. He called another doctor he knew, who said the same thing. But Anne was strangely pale under her tan, mostly from fright. She barely moved from her bed all day long, except to go to the bathroom, and Bill came home for lunch every day to see how she was, and he left the office earlier than usual. They would just have to wait and see, both doctors said, but neither of them was concerned, until after a week of consistent bleeding, late one night she began to have terrible cramps. She woke up with a start, and grabbed Bill's arm. She was barely able to speak she was in such pain, and she felt as though a hot poker were forcing its way through her, pushing everything down between her legs and on her lower back. Bill called the doctor, frantically wrapped her in a blanket, and took her to the hospital. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she held his hand tight, as she lay in the emergency room. She begged him not to leave her, and the doctor let him stay, but it wasn't a pretty sight. She was in terrible pain and bleeding copiously, and within two hours, she lost the baby she had wanted so desperately, as she sobbed in Bill's arms.
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  They put her out and wheeled her away to do a quick D and C and when Anne woke up in the recovery room, Bill was there again, with grief-stricken eyes filled with concern as he held her hand. The doctor had said there was no explanation for it, some fetuses were just wrong and the body eliminated them. It was best that way he said. But Anne was inconsolable as she lay in bed at home for weeks. They told her she could get up, but she had no desire to at all. She lost fifteen pounds, looked like hell, and refused to talk to anyone or go anywhere. Eventually, Faye got word of it in a round-about way. Lionel called Anne to say hello, and Bill told him, and he called Faye, who in turn called Anne to see how she was, but she wouldn't speak to anyone, Bill said in despair. And she flatly refused to see Faye. She got hysterical when Bill even mentioned it, screaming again that it was all her fault, that if she hadn't made her give the other baby away, she would have him now. She hated everyone, even Bill at times, and it was November before he could get her to travel with him again, or go anywhere, and Gail was upset at how drawn she looked when she finally came to New York with Bill.

  “She looks terrible.”

  “I know.” He worried about her all the time, but there was nothing he could do except get her pregnant again, and that could take time. “She took it very hard.” It had already been two months and she never talked about it, but it was easy to see how the miscarriage had ravaged her, and even the jewelry he bought didn't excite her very much. Nothing did. Not even the trip to St. Moritz at Christmastime.

  Finally, in January, she began to revive. It had been a terrible time for her, and the six weeks depression the doctor had predicted for her had turned into three months, but at least she was over it now, for the most part. She was back to her old life, of shopping and seeing a few friends. She called Gail in New York more often again now, and she had set up her temperature charts again, and this time it paid off in two short months. She found out she was pregnant on Valentine's Day, but this time the baby only lasted six weeks, and she lost it on the first of March, two weeks after she found out. Bill braced himself for what she would go through again, but she was quieter about it this time. Silent, withdrawn, she rarely mentioned it, even to him, and in some ways that worried him more. He would rather have seen her cry all the time, at least she would have gotten it out. Instead, there was something closed and dead in her eyes. She put the temperature charts away for good, threw the basal thermometer away, and talked about redoing the guest room in green or blue. It tore at his heart even more than the time before, but there was nothing he could do for her. Late one night, she confessed to him in the dark, that she thought it might be because of all the drugs she took several years before. But that was five years before, he reminded her, and he was convinced it had nothing to do with it. But she clung to her guilts and her regrets, and the memory of the relinquished child. It was obvious she believed she would never have one now, and he didn't even dare argue with her. It put a terrible silent pressure on him now whenever they made love, but at least she wasn't taking her temperature now. That was a relief of sorts.